Page 17 of Mated To The King's Gamma
“What is Kyson? Can’t bear to see your mark on my flesh yet revel in hers? No! I won’t allow it!”
“Then I kill her.” he sneers, and Peter screams.
“You said lashes! You are already killing her. Look at her!” I scream furiously in his face. He seems taken aback but does look at her back, her flesh torn open and blood pooling at her feet.
“Enough or I take her place,” I tell him, and he stares at me. His eyes narrow, and I can see the fury behind them, the argument I know that is coming, but here with witnesses, he refuses to give a show to them. He wants us a united front, but I will not stand by this a moment more. I never agreed in the first place but understood it had to happen, but he said he wouldn’t kill her, and any more lashes would.
We stand off, neither willing to bow to the other, and the air between us turns tense.
“Know your place, My King. Landeena’s word is final.”
“Not over me it’s not, My Queen. You may be Landeena, but I am your mate, and Alpha hierarchy still holds weight,” he snarls.
“Want to test that theory?” I ask him, though it is a test. I have come to notice he will back down when my title comes into play, making me realize I am so much stronger than him. He seems surprised, and his eyebrows rise, my assumption correct. With hierarchy, the Alpha is always most assertive, the most dominant in a mate bond, but not against a Landeena, and that realization is eye-opening when he takes a step back from me.
“Just remember, you may have power. That doesn’t mean you know how to use it.”
“Yet, Kyson. Not yet. But I think you and I both know you are dreading the day I do,” I tell him, and he growls.
“Release her!“ he snaps before turning his gaze back to me. “Cover up!” he snaps, turning on his heel and storming off.
9
I shouldn’t be here, I should be down there watching that bastard take his punishment, paying for his sins, But Abbie and I have done nothing but argue., and I can see if I go down there and stand by my king’s side, she wouldn’t forgive me.
Sitting here I feel useless, and Tyson’s crying is beginning to give me a headache.
“He wants his blanket,” Abbie tells me, and I ignore her. I love her to death, but she babies him far too much and he is spoiled rotten.
“Gannon, he won’t sleep without it.”
“He can go one night without it, Abbie, it won’t hurt him,” I tell her.
Hearing a knock at the door, I glance over at it, and so does Abbie. She looks back at me, and I sigh, forcing myself up from the bed and moving toward the door. I answer it, and Abbie gets to her feet to move toward the door before freezing mid-step when she spots Azalea. Abbie groans, unable to go to her, and the longing on her face is evident.
“Man, you need to find a way to remove the command,” Abbie says, flopping back on the floor next to Tyson, who is playing with some wooden blocks. Azalea walks into the room while I remain frozen, unable to myself, not expecting the visit. Azalea leans down, kissing his head and messing Tyson’s hair before sitting beside him. I glance at the door, half expecting Kyson to be with her, but he is nowhere in sight. Turning back to them, I go toward the bed, having to take a wide berth so as not to step toward my queen.
“I heard the king made you watch?” Abbie asks as Azalea chews her lip and nods.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t watch that. I could kill him for making you!” Abbie growls, and I growl at her, annoyed because I should have been down there, not Liam, though he would have come just to watch, regardless, nothing that man loves more than seeing the pain in another’s eyes.
“Mind your tongue, love,” I tell her, and Abbie rolls her eyes at me as I lie back on the bed, trying to ignore them and offer them privacy.
They talk for a little while, but I can tell it is straining on Abbie because she can’t move toward her and has to consider her intentions when moving around our own room.
“Can you go into town for me?” Abbie asks me. I sigh and force myself to get back up.
“He needs to learn to sleep without it,” Abbie shoots me a look.
“Gannon!”
“Fine,” I growl, leaning down to take Tyson. I prop him on my hip.
“What’s in town?” Azalea asks.
“That microfiber blanket. It tore in the wash,” Abbie tells Azalea. Tyson has sensory issues, and certain things irritate him. To Tyson, it is a comfort thing. However, he can’t cart a blanket around all the time and needs to learn other coping mechanisms.
“I think there is one in the room Kyson made up for a baby room for me, across from his old quarters,” Azalea tells me. I don’t want to ask her to retrieve it and am about to tell her as much, when we all peer toward the door as it is pushed open, and Kyson steps inside.
