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

Enoch," I argue, trying

His grip tightens. "No."

this time, more... desperate.

of me leaving is physically

"I don't care

coats or

groans, low and pained, but his

"You" he breathes, "Enough."

My throat goes dry,

Oh,

first time, I see it. The barest flicker of

Lycan

is changing, shifting, something deep inside

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 time and a

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

my wrist, then

landing half on top of him, my palm splaying against his bare chest

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

against my ribs, a reckless thing, and for the briefest, stupidest moment, I think about leaning

I groan. "You're a goddamn

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

n't loosen. He holds

I should argue,

in the way he's holding me, something

for a

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Chapter 39

let myself

myself

head on my chest should be

suffocating, considering he's half a furnace,

But instead, his warmth seeps into my skin, grounding me, lulling me into a false sense

rhythmic, tickling the exposed

if he

at him. "I'll try to minimize my

his voice barely above a

slow chill creeps up

except the rustling leaves

Enoch-he hears something else. Something I

through his damp hair, the strands

him from the inside out. "What do you

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

body goes

Then he repeats it, verbatim, tone flat, disinterested. "The Omega whored her way into his bed. The

The fuck did he just

groans, his arms tightening

him. "Who

nuzzling against my sternum like I didn't just

"More."

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

will regret it. That he will claim

out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Oh,

fingers flexing. "They say." His voice drops lower, almost guttural. "That he

hammers in my throat,

though

fuck