Traded To The Lycan King

I push the fabric away from her leg, fighting her as she tries to squirm away. She is fading in and out of delirium, unable to differentiate reality from wishful dreams. There is no open injury on her leg, no bone cutting through her skin or breaking of the flesh as I search for the cause. She has to have an infection. Her fever is astronomical, sweat drenching her hair and dripping down her brow as she heaves for air.

"Where does it hurt?" I ask her just as her head lulls back and her eyes roll into the back of her head. "Shit."

I take the sleeping baby, gently setting him to the side before doing a full assessment of her body. She has minor cuts and scrapes on her arms, but nothing that looks dangerous or even infected. Bile rises in my throat as I try to grasp for any idea what the hell is going on. The wizard is dead, so it can't be him using a spell. And I do not smell anything plant wise that could cause this type of illness.

Kyra mumbles, her head falling from side to side as she winces and groans out in pain. I hate to admit it, but I wish Marcos was here to help. Her groans grow loader, stirring the sleeping baby who seems to feed off her chaotic energy. I drag my hands through my hair, frustration seeping into my bones like freezing rain that precedes an upcoming blizzard.

I look away and grunt in annoyance before I lean forward again, dragging my hand over her foot as I lean forward and study every single section. Every dip, I gently rub, ensuring something is not embedded where I can not find it. My hand roams over her soft skin, my damn lycan crying anxiously in my head, begging for answers too.

As I move toward her waist, I freeze. A small cut in her skin under her shirt has me pushing it up and gaping. How can something so small, barely visible, be the root of such pain? There just over her hip bone is a scrape, red, bulging and webbing across her stomach. It seems to throb, growing darker and lighter, as if it has a pumping heart of its own.

"What the hell?" I mutter, my fingers tracing over it, the bumps weaving out further with each pulsation. It has to be a poison, one I know nothing about, but for it to be coming from such a tiny injury, and no magical beings around, poison is my only option. Kyra groans, her muscles tightening as her abdomen tightens and her fingers clench together.

"I got you, Ky." I murmur, dragging her closer to my body, praying the mate bond will do what it can to ease some of her pain while I try to come up with a plan. What the hell would Marcos do in this situation? Probably something stupid that would seem like he is making a pass at Kyra.

Just the thought of him doing it makes me want to punch a tree, but then, ever so slowly, it dawns on me. I will have to be the one who sucks

to myself. The last thing I need is for her to come to and look

The sparks explode and I have to squeeze my eyes shut, reminding myself I am saving her life. This is not the moment for my lycan to go crazy or for my body to assume things that would be offensive to

lips a little wider, gazing up at her as she seems

her, spitting to the side before stooping back down again, sucking harder, faster in fear I am too slow to save her. Thin fingers wrap into my hair, gripping a tight as her soft painful cries turn to a moan as she arches her back, her stomach lifting from the ground. I

my heart racing as try

I ask her, my voice husky as I try to control

She croaks, pressing her head back into the dirt. "What the

not entirely sure yet."

it out

made it clear I will do everything to make sure you

the baby?"

Kyra exhales, dragging