Traded To The Lycan King



I groan as I crawl onto the plush bed, plopping down next to Colette's sleeping body. My tired muscles twitch and tingle through me, from the hair on my head down to my toes. It doesn't matter that I've napped, or that my brother has refused to see me. What matters is my body is finally ready to shut down, and the thought has never felt so alluring.

Colette rustles as she rolls over onto her back, her eyes trained on mine in the low light of the room. I rise onto my elbow, scooting closer with great effort, and she bites her lips in a restrained giggle. My brow arches with a smirk.

"Something you want to say, Luna?" I drop my voice low, reaching out and gently stroking her cheek.

"No, I just..." she pauses, looking at my face before meeting my gaze.

"What?" I ask a concern growing in the pit of my stomach.

"I just love you." The words I have heard so many times feel different.

Maybe it's the heaviness of the days or the fact that this moment has a looming cloud of heartache, but they are weighted. Each one punctuated with the simplicity of the statement, but the inflection of her voice, the sincerity in her eyes. There is no way I can or will ever doubt that she means it. I can see it, feel it.

“That's convenient." I smile, "I just love you, too."

She giggles before she tugs at the blankets under me, prompting me to sit up.

"Do you love me enough to get off the top of the blankets so we can sleep?" She asks with a sweet smile popping on her face to convince me to move, but I see the veiled threat in it.

Colette may ask with her words, but her eyes are informing me I will be moving. I chuckle, rising up and crawling off the blankets before crawling under the silky textured sheets and heavy comforter.

"Now come cuddle me," she demands.

My arm is already reaching out for her when she demands her cuddles, and before she can finish her sentence, I scoop her flush to my body. Colette wiggles into me, the back of her head pressing lightly to my lips. Her small body shudders in my arms and she presses into me further, silence coming over us as my eyes drift slowly closed.

"Thank you," she whispers suddenly.

"For what?" I ask, my voice groggy and just above the whisper.

"In your arms, it almost feels like I can pretend." She says.

"Pretend what?" I ask before realizing how dense the question is.

"That my parents are still alive. That everything is okay and we are safe." Her voice breaks, as I hear a little sniffle. My heart falls to my feet and I lick my lips, trying to come up with anything I can to provide her comforting words.

"Everything is okay, Colette, and you are safe. When you are in my arms, you are safe.” I assure her, her breathing hitches. "They are really gone this time."

"But my parents are dead." She says as if she still can't believe it.

"Yes," I sigh, hoping I am answering these questions right for her. "So that you could be here safe in my arms,"

"I know it sounds selfish, because they sacrificed so that everyone could survive, but... Is it so wrong to wish they could be here too? Is that selfish?" I frown against her hair.

"Love doesn't make you selfish, it makes you self less. Caspian and Melody could be selfless because of how much they loved you."Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

“And now they don't get to love anymore." She says, her body now shaking in my arms as I squeeze her tight.

"Nah, I don't think love dies that easily," I whisper in her ear. "Love remains after someone is gone. It's how we act, the ways we mirror them and the memories we cherish."

She cries, nodding her head,

"When did you get so good at this?" she asks me and I give a dry chuckle.

"I lost my parents, too." I remind her and she turns in her arms, facing me.

"Was it hard?" She whispers, her cheeks glistening with her shed tears.

"Yeah, love. It was very hard," I tell her and she gives me a soft smile that doesn't meet her eyes.

"Let's just sleep." She says through a rising yawn. "Maybe there I can pretend they are still here."

It doesn't take long for her to pass out, her muscles relaxing in my arms and her body settling into me with a gentle pressing of working lungs. I stave off my exhaustion for a few more minutes, watching her sleep, allowing myself this moment of peace.

When she wakes, the depth of her grief will truly settle in and I don't know what that will look like. I just know that tomorrow I will fight against grief on two fronts, my mates and my brothers.

I shoot out of bed, my heart pounding so violently my chest begs for reprieve. My weary eyes drift over to Colette, who pushes herself up as well, her eyes scanning the room.

The scream happens again, one that is full of agony and suffering. I move across the room, slipping into sweatpants before rushing to the door. My hand freezes on the doorknob, my fingers flexing before I look back at Colette.

"Go," she urges me with sincerity. "Hayes needs you more than I do right now."

With her blessing, I break through the door and sprint through the old pack house, hoping my memory is good enough to deliver me right to his room. But another cry breaks out this time, a softer, more painful whimpering as if he is screaming into a pillow.

I break through the door, my heart

pounding as stare at the deformed and blistered left side of my brother's back and arm. It doesn't look nearly as raging in the very minimal lighting of the room, but there is no way it doesn't cause him immense pain.

"Hayes," I say, shutting the door behind me.

I move in front of him, his hand injured hand shaking on his knee and his good hand moving just as much. He looks down at the ground, his shoulders heaving up and down. Then slowly, he lifts his chin and I nearly break down.

"Merikh," he croaks out, his mouth opening as he sputters out a heavy exhale and his chest stutters in breath. It reminds me of when he was little and we would spar. On the rare occasion I would hurt him, he would just look up at me, begging for comfort.

"Shit," My eyes water but I hold it

back, squatting down before him, unsure of how to comfort someone you can't hug or touch because of an injury. With Colette, a simple touch can ease her mental load and her pain. But that's the beauty of the mate bond. The very bond he is mourning.

"Please," he sobs. "Please, just kill me. I don't want to be here. I don't deserve to be here."

"What are you talking about?" I say, trying to keep my anger at bay.

He is hurting, breaking apart, and while I can put Colette back together again, Hayes needs to put himself together. I will hold his pieces as long as he needs, but this is his journey. The best I can do is make it a smoother ride.

"Every time I close my eyes I see it," he says, his voice a raspy mess.

"I know," I murmur, trying to be as encouraging as possible. His eyes go black and he snarls at me.

"You don't know!" He screams. "If you knew, you wouldn't want me as your beta anymore."

"Then don't tell me," I say simply. "You are and will always be my beta for a long time."

"Unless I die." He mutters, looking past me and out the window.

"You aren't going to die. I was already told you are on the mend." I tell him.

"That doesn't mean I can't die." He says, his eyes finding mine as he blinks slowly.

He looks void. The only emotion left

is that of a man who has no will to live, and I realize what he is saying. My brow pop up in surprise. This is not like Hayes at all, the bubbly, happy brother who is always a great confidant and friend. This is the broken Hayes, the hollow one with no desire to exist, and it hurts my very being.

“Beta, you are not allowed to take any actions that may cause your death. If you are in a fight, you must put in all your effort. That is an order," I boom out, my nostrils flaring in frustration.

He jumps up with a roaring scream, shoving me into the window behind me, the glass panes rattling with the force.

“I watched!” He hisses, his face mere inches from mine. “They made me watch while I struggled. I was inferior, I AM inferior, incapable."

"Brother, I am sorry." I say softly and he snorts a condescending laugh, shoving me again. "Being forced to watch something doesn't make you

inferior."

"They impaled her on the tree, and when she refused to scream as they tortured her for fucking fun, they did this." He points to his face. "Because they wanted me to remember."

"Then get revenge, don't let them win," I urge him and he pushes off of me, wincing as he turns away.

"They already won. That's what I am fucking telling you." He mutters.