Babysitting The Amnesiac Lycan King

King Novel 39

Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Enoch shouldn't be behaving like this if he doesn't feel what I do.

He steadies me effortlessly, but the second he realizes just how close we are, he recoils like I burned him. His body jerks back so fast I nearly topple over again. It's almost funny-the big, bad, amnesiac Lycan King acting like I'm a fucking

disease.

"Thanks for the save, asshole," I mutter, brushing dirt off my palms.

He just grunts as an answer, those gaze barely looking at me, his expression is once again unreadable. His reactions are always a gamble. Sometimes he's completely unreadable, like now, and other times, he looks at me like he wants to devour me whole. No in-between.

We go about the rest of the training session in tense, loaded silence, dodging, striking, moving in sync. It should be like every other day, but there's something different. An energy that linger-suffocating with its thickness, even after we finish and the rest of the pack drifts away, sneering in my direction as they pass.

Nothing new.

The rest of the day was like usual ever since the Alpha announced that stupid command: the pack are either pretending we don't exist or shooting me glares that could strip flesh from bone.

Good. Business as usual.

But that's not what sticks with me as I walk back to the packhouse. It's that feeling again.

The one that has nothing to do with my usual paranoia.

Someone is watching me.

I feel it. It prickles along my spine, an unwelcome presence in the shadows, just out of sight, lurking. I glance back toward the deep forest, scanning between the thick trees. Nothing but darkness stretching beyond the clearing.

Still. The feeling doesn't fade.

***

Night falls, and I realize I haven't seen Enoch in hours. Not on the training ground, not in the kitchen, not even perched on his usual windowsill, obsessing over that damn book about the royal family he always reads as though it holds the answers to his missing past.

That's when I find him.

On the bed. Unmoving. A fevered flush crawling up his neck, his skin clammy, his breath shallow.

Shit.

I don't panic. I'm not that girl. But something about seeing him like this makes my stomach twist. He's strong, impossibly strong, but right now, he looks... vulnerable. And I don't fucking like it.

"Enoch," I say, shaking his shoulder lightly. "Hey. What the hell is wrong with you?"

Nothing. He shifts, the movement sluggish, barely there.

Double shit.

I move to call Dr. Lisa. Because sure, it's just a fever, but this is Enoch. Not just any wolf. A Lycan. And something tells me his biology doesn't follow the same rules.

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Chapter 39

Before I can leave, though, a burning-hot hand latches onto my wrist. "Don't," Enoch rasps.

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His fingers tighten, and when I turn, his forest greenneyes-dazed, wild-are locked onto me.

"Stay" he rasps.

weird to my chest. I chalk it

doctor, Enoch," I argue,

His grip tightens. "No."

this time, more... desperate. His forehead

slightly like the idea of me leaving is physically

my wrist. "I don't care

coats

groans, low and pained, but his eyes

"You" he breathes, "Enough."

My throat goes dry,

Oh,

it. The barest flicker

Lycan

fever. His body is changing, shifting, something deep

a rock in my gut. I stare down at him, and for the first time since I found him bleeding out in the woods, I realize just how unfairly beautiful he is. Even sick, sweat-damp hair sticking to his forehead, he looks like something carved by gods with too much free

me again, this time harder, until I stumble forward,

my wrist,

stumble. I crash, landing half on top of him, my palm splaying against his bare chest for balance.

Just fevered skin, tangled limbs, and his eyes, hazy but

and for the

"You're

his eyes flutter closed. His breathing evens out, but his arm me

n't loosen. He holds

should argue, tell him this is

way

for a

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Chapter 39

myself

myself be

chest should

considering he's half a furnace, radiating

my skin, grounding me, lulling me into a false

slow, rhythmic, tickling the exposed skin of

if he

"I'll try

shifts, his voice barely

creeps up

the rustling leaves outside, the occasional howl in

hears something

through his damp hair, the strands curling from

from the

buried against me, but his voice is eerily

goes rigid.

flat,

The fuck did

sit up so fast Enoch groans, his arms

out from under him. "Who the fuck is

away, just shifts, nuzzling against

"More."

More what? More fucking slander?" I seethe,

say the Alpha will regret it. That

out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Oh,

side, his fingers flexing. "They say." His voice drops

fresh, hot rage unfurls in my chest. My pulse hammers in my throat,

though

fuck