Traded To The Lycan King

Kyra's lips purse as she breathes softly through them, her hair still caked to her forehead and cheeks from where she was sweating. I want nothing more than to sweep the strands from her face, caressing her still flushed skin. But I hold back, refusing to allow myself these small stolen moments. Then again, if stolen moments are the only moments we are destined for, is it wrong to act on them? She mumbles as she adjusts her position with my arm up, allowing her to move as she twists her body toward me. Her chin tilts up, putting the full force of her spectacular freckles on display.

There is no force strong enough in the world to stop me as my fingers gently brush over her brow, freeing her face of the sweat dried hair. Heavens, she is so perfect. More so than when she left. Kyra would have worn me down in a week had she stayed. My ability to tell her no, to see her in pain, would have seen me rejecting any mate that came my way.

I don't know if I did the right thing by rejecting her and ignoring her. I was trying to protect her from the hurt of knowing she wasn't fated to be mine. That little voice in the back of her head saying there is someone else better for me than her. And I was trying to save myself from the fear of finding someone else while I was with her.

"You stayed," she whispers, startling me as I yank my hand back and clear my throat.

"I thought you wanted me to?" I ask, a nervousness causing me to swallow a growing lump in my throat. What if she asked only because she was poisoned and she doesn't remember?

"No, I know it's just that..." She frowns, and looks down at the baby in her arms. "I just figured you would run off after we fell asleep."

"You were shivering." I lie, clearing my throat yet again, and I sit up and look away. Why am I feeling like I need to lie to her? Kyra is well aware that we are mates, I have told her as much and it seems a mately duty to do as she asks.

"I must have been cold." She whispers, but I can hear the doubt in her voice. When I turn to look at her, she is sporting a ghost of a smile. Her eyes watch me closely, peering through me as if she can read my every thought. Kyra knows why I stayed, and she knows why I lied.

"Probably." I mutter, pushing myself up to stand as I turn and look for something to do, anything to do.

"What do you think was used to poison me?" She asks, sitting up as the baby fusses, flailing his little arms.

"That is a good question." I mutter, moving around the trees to find the dead wizard we had discarded earlier. I squat down, pushing the leaves around, looking for any sign of foul play. There is nothing, not a vial or even a familiar scent to the one on him. Until I move closer, leaning down near his head. A thick ooze leaks from the back of his skull.

shoulders and pushing him over. He has been dead for far too long for something to be bleeding out of him. The memory of the zombie wolves comes to mind, and I wonder if there is

strong scent slams into me, causing me to fall back on my ass and gag as I drop him and scramble away. The putrid smell is worse than death, but that of a carcass used to grow spores and attract bugs for mating. And yet, there is a floral hint, one I know but struggle to place as I reach out and hesitantly

on the grass, shaking my hand. I look at it with care, my nose scrunched in disbelief as I inspect not only my injured finger, but the smell one more time. "What is that?" Kyra asks. She is now

is wolfsbane in some form or another, but why does it burn now and

before I reach out and take the baby into my arms. The infant boy fusses, the tiniest pout on his little lips before his

for me as I

To make sure he doesn't have any of this shit on him." I mutter, peeling back the fabric wrapped around him. His little fists fly up as if he is ready to

hobbles closer, trying to peek

she clenches onto my arm, has me turning to look at her. I take a step back, giving us space as I sigh

am fine. Now give him

him, or you are too rough, or maybe your scars will scare him?" She seems frantic, like she had been before, back when she was in her daze and convinced I was her dead mate and this was her own child. My heart breaks as tilt my head and exhale, my lip

she looks at me, taking her eyes off the baby for a moment

saying that about your scars. It's

a step closer to her, then another, then I reach out and cup her cheek with

demanding her undivided attention. "This is not your baby. He has a family, one he belongs with, and when we unite

tries to argue, but I rub my thumb over her lips, quieting her. Kyra's eyes twinkle in the way only a bond can make them twinkle. She knows,

memory of her calling me by his name, aching in my

whispers, tears

is not our baby." I say,

her voice is soft, more of a