His Lost Lycan Luna (Kyson and Ivy)

Chapter 67

A few hours later, with a whiskey in my hand, I watched her. For some reason, I couldn’t get the look of her eyes out of my head, how they glowed, and her strength as she struggled. She must have been angry because it took nearly all my strength for me to subdue her. The other thing that bothered me was how she was able to resist my command in her anger. The calling she stood no chance against, but my command she fought. I was puzzled by it. Ivy had strength that was more than what a werewolf should have, and fought my command, yet couldn’t fight the calling; I kept trying to tell myself it was because she was my mate, yet something nagged at me as I pondered.

The sun was just peeking out along the horizon when I finally climbed into the bed next to her; she stirred and rolled into me, and I growled at her touch, her small hands pressing into my side seeking me out before I noticed she was still unconscious and just reacting to the bond. Reaching over to the bedside table, I grabbed the handcuffs from where I placed them before clamping it on her wrist and securing it to the headboard.

I couldn’t risk her waking before me and trying to run again, though now there was no place she could run or hide from me. Not while my mark lay etched into her skin. She would learn her place is with me and whatever I choose to do with her rests with me. She had no choice. It wasn’t hers, so until she learned that, then I would make the choices for both of us. Settling back beside her, I rested my head on the pillow and closed my eyes.

It only took moments for sleep to take me with her by my side, and I welcomed sleep. Not really get complete sleep since I forced her out of the castle, but with her beside me snuggled into me and her scent wrapping around me, I was plunged into oblivion.

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Ivy POV

My muscles ached as I blinked up at the ceiling. My head hurt, and I felt groggy as I rolled in the bed. Yet when I went to move my hand to rub my eyes, something cold and metal caught my wrist.

Tilting my head up, I found one hand was cuffed to the headboard. I gasped, jerking on my trapped wrist, yet the handcuff wouldn’t loosen. Panic seized me as the events of yesterday flooded back to me all at once. My lungs felt restricted, and I struggled to breathe when my other hand went to my neck.

My fingertips tingled, and the sight stung a little as I remembered he marked me. His threat to tie me to the bed came back to me, and my eyes scanned the room for him, but I saw him nowhere. By the light outside, it was around midday, and I struggled against the restraint, the metal digging in and bruising my wrist as I tried to free myself. Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org exclusive © material.

Warm tears streamed down my cheeks. He trapped me. He confined me to the bed and had now marked me. A sob tore out of me at how it appeared to be nothing for him to do this to me, that he would do this as I yanked my arm when I heard the door open. I turned my head, making me pivot to face it when his scent wafted over to me. The King walked in and glanced at me and my attempt to escape.

“Wouldn’t be necessary, but I don’t trust you,” he said while walking over to the bar area. He had a book in his hand, and he watched me as he poured himself a drink before setting the book on the coffee table and sitting in the armchair.

“You tried to leave,” he said simply like it explained his harsh treatment. Yet all I could think of was the number of times Mrs. Daley trapped or locked us away. I had confinement and was extremely claustrophobic. Despite the size of the room, being trapped on the bed and unable to use that hand made it feel tiny like the walls were pressing closer and threatening to crush me.

“You’re scared,” he stated, sipping his drink and watching me over the rim.

“Let me go, Kyson,” I stammered.

“Never, Ivy. What part of you are mine did you have trouble understanding? Did you think being fated to a King you could just leave and there would be no consequences?” he asked. I glared at him. Although my sudden anger didn’t stop the tears from sliding down my face or the feeling of unease at being trapped. His presence simply made me more nervous. I turned my gaze to the closet before lying back down on my side.

The sound of his glass clinking, being placed on the coffee table, and his footsteps growing nearer told me he was walking toward me. “You can’t just leave; the bond won’t allow it, not for me anyway,” he said as he came over and stood at the edge of the bed.

“Then reject me and be done with it,” I told him.

“Lycans can’t reject their mates. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. And I don’t want to,” he said, though with the way he said it, it was like he was trying to convince himself he wanted me. So it was not at all promising on my part. Nor did it offer me any form of hope.

“I will remove the handcuffs when I feel you can be trusted, and right now, through the bond, all I can feel is your anger, Ivy. Until I no longer feel it, you will remain handcuffed understood,” The king said firmly, like he was scolding a child and not his mate. Words failed me when I felt his fingertips grip my chin and tilt my face to look up at him.