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.

hoarse and wrecked, does something weird to my chest. I chalk

doctor, Enoch," I argue, trying to

His grip tightens. "No."

is more insistent this time,

the idea of

wrist. "I don't care if you

or white coats or whatever

pained,

"You" he breathes, "Enough."

My throat goes dry,

Oh,

first time, I see it. The barest flicker of something

Lycan

fever. His body is changing, shifting, something deep inside

found him bleeding out in the woods, I realize just

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

my wrist,

half on top of him, my palm splaying

tangled limbs, and his eyes, hazy but intent, watching me as

a reckless thing, and for the

"You're

flutter closed. His breathing evens out, but his arm me close, locking me against

n't loosen. He holds

I should pull away. I should argue, tell him this is

there's something desperate in the way he's holding

just for

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Chapter 39

myself sink into

myself be

chest should be uncomfortable. It's

be suffocating, considering he's half

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

slow, rhythmic, tickling the exposed skin of my

he's asleep if he didn't

blink down at him. "I'll try

shifts, his voice barely above a

creeps

rustling leaves outside, the occasional

Enoch-he hears something

damp hair, the strands curling from

him from the inside out.

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

goes rigid.

say." His breath hitches, nostrils flaring like he's drinking in something foul. Then he repeats it, verbatim, tone flat, disinterested. "The Omega whored her way into his bed. The rogue is rutting her like a

jaw unhinges. The fuck did

fast Enoch groans, his arms tightening around

out from under him. "Who the fuck is saying

away, just shifts, nuzzling against my sternum

"More."

what? More fucking slander?" I seethe,

will regret

a sharp, humorless laugh. "Oh,

hand twitches against my side, his fingers flexing. "They say." His voice drops lower, almost guttural. "That he

my chest. My pulse hammers in my throat, a violent,

exhales heavily, as though my words

fuck