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.

wrecked, does something weird to my chest. I chalk it

doctor, Enoch," I argue,

His grip tightens. "No."

time, more... desperate. His forehead creases,

slightly like the idea of me leaving is physically painful

sharply, yanking at my wrist. "I don't care if you have

or white coats or

low and pained, but his eyes crack

"You" he breathes, "Enough."

My throat goes dry,

Oh,

and for the first time, I see it. The barest flicker of something primal lurking beneath the fever

Lycan

just a fever. His body is changing, shifting, something deep

since I found him bleeding out in the woods, I realize just how

words die in my throat when he tugs me again, this time

flex against my wrist, then he

splaying against his bare chest for balance. Heat

between us. Just fevered skin, tangled limbs, and his eyes, hazy but intent, watching me as if I'm the only

heart slams against my ribs, a reckless thing, and for the briefest, stupidest

I groan. "You're a goddamn

smirk tugs at his lips before, his eyes flutter closed. His breathing evens out, but his arm me close, locking me against

n't loosen. He holds

pull away. I should argue, tell him

the way he's holding me, something raw

for

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Chapter 39

let myself sink

let myself be

head on my chest should be uncomfortable.

considering he's half a

seeps into my skin, grounding me, lulling me into a false

is slow, rhythmic, tickling the exposed

asleep if he didn't

"I'll

his voice

chill creeps up

rustling leaves outside, the occasional

something else. Something I

his damp hair, the strands curling from

still cooking him from the inside out. "What do you

his voice is eerily clear when he mutters, "She's fucking

goes rigid.

flat, disinterested. "The Omega

The fuck did he

fast Enoch groans, his arms tightening around

his pillow out from under him. "Who the fuck

against my sternum like I didn't just have an

"More."

More what? More fucking slander?" I seethe, hands balling into

regret it. That he will

out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Oh, will he?

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

My pulse hammers in my throat, a violent, living thing.

as though my words

fuck