Babysitting The Amnesiac Lycan King

King Novel 47

Chapter 47

Chapter 47

TARYN

Everything fucking hurts.

Like, everything.

93%

If I didn't already feel like death warmed over, Enoch carrying me as though I am some fragile damsel would've been my last straw. But honestly? I don't have the energy to argue.

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My body is a mess of bruises, my ribs feel like someone took a sledgehammer to them, and I'm pretty sure my ankle is just there for decoration at this point.

Still, I'm not entirely useless. I tighten my grip around his neck, ignoring the way my fingers tremble, and mutter, "You're bleeding."

Enoch doesn't answer. His jaw is locked so tight I swear I hear his teeth creak. His face is a storm cloud of fury, those crimson eyes burning as he scans our surroundings as if he's expecting an ambush at any second. He's probably right.

Behind us, Kallias moves like a shadow-silent, lethal, and honestly a little terrifying. He's quick with a knife, even quicker with his fists, and he doesn't hesitate when he slits a guard's throat so fast the guy doesn't even get the chance to scream.

I should probably be unnerved by that. But after everything? The only thing I feel is grim satisfaction.

The air shifts as we burst through the dungeon's exit, and-holy shit-fresh air.

It slams into me like a slap, crisp and cold and biting, and my lungs suck it in greedily. I didn't realize how much I missed the sky until now. The forest stretches ahead, bathed in silver moonlight, the trees swaying in the wind like they're whispering secrets.

We're free.

For now.

A shiver wracks my body, but it's not from the cold. Enoch must notice because his arms tighten around me, his warmth bleeding into my frozen skin. His scent is everywhere-woodsmoke and something wild, something him. It's grounding. Comforting in a way I don't want to unpack right now.

"Almost... safe," he murmurs, his voice rough and barely strung together. He's getting better with words, but it's clear speaking in full sentences still takes effort.

Kallias pauses up ahead, scanning the path. "Coast is clear," he mutters, but he doesn't relax. None of us do.

My heartbeat pounds in my ears as Enoch strides forward, hie moves with a purpose yet still careful, treating me as if I might shatter if he's not gentle. I hate that. I hate feeling weak. But I bite my tongue because I know if I open my mouth right now, it's just going to be a whole lot of exhausted, delirious bitching.

Branches snap underfoot. Shadows shift between the trees. Every sound is a possible threat, every rustling leaf another reminder that we're not out of this yet. Then Enoch stops.

His entire body goes rigid, a low growl curling from his throat.

I feel it vibrate against my side, and I don't know what the hell he senses, but his grip on me tightens almost painfi breathing slows, controlled and dangerous, and when he finally speaks, his voice is nothing more than a low, deadly promise.

lis

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Chapter 47

"No more... running."

something final about the way he says it. Though he's made a

I'm not in the mood for some alpha male, "I'll protect you" bullshit when I can barely keep my eyes open. But I swallow the words, because the

He means it.

And I believe him.

relieving. Because if there's one thing I've learned about Enoch, it's that when he

no one-is going to stop

pine and smoke, with a trace of something darker underneath. Something that clings to my skin, sinking

Enoch.

head tipped forward in

fucking statue while I bled out on the ground, Seraphina watching with that smug, self-satisfied expression. And then Enoch.

1. me.

the packhouse that I never thought I'd miss. The blankets are soft, wrapping me in a cocoon of warmth, and for a second,

stabbing through every nerve, and oh yeah.

little adventure that

moves beside me, and I turn my head-slowly,

Enoch.

watching me with a stare so intense it could melt steel. His face is unreadable, but there's something in his eyes-

is dry as hell, but I manage to croak out, "You look

he's trying to process the insult. Then he exhales through his nose, and-oh my

of a huff. But

forward, hesitant, almost unsure, before he brushes a strand of hair from my face. His fingers are rough, calloused, but he's

mouth, ready to say something stupid to break the tension, but he

this... for

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Chapter 47

barely a whisper, but

But there's a

planning? It's going

And honestly?

think I'm okay with

tight lodges itself

through my ribs, stopping me cold. My breath hisses between my teeth. Enoch's head snaps up instantly, sharp, predatory, eyes flicking over me

voice is rough,

"No," I lie. Badly.

hands are already reaching, brushing the blanket aside, checking my bandages.

wrist where bruises bloom ugly and

in his jaw.

don't need to.

want to break something. Or

is softer this time, but laced with something

looking away. "It

Wrong thing to say.

me to look at him. There's nothing soft about his grip. It's not cruel, not meant to

pure gravel, rasping over my skin like a promise. Or

he'd

A King.

thought sends a

it, because his hold on my chin loosens,

His

drops, softer this time.

Safe.

A slow, bitter smile