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 decision neither Kallias nor I get

argue. Tell him we need to run. That I'm not in the mood for some alpha male, "I'll protect you" bullshit when

He means it.

And I believe him.

if there's one thing I've learned about

one-is going to stop

scent of clean linen and something distinctly... masculine. Earthy, like pine and smoke, with a trace of something darker underneath. Something that clings to my skin, sinking into the very marrow of

Enoch.

Sitting in a chair by my bed, broad shoulders hunched, arms crossed over his chest, head tipped forward in exhausted defeat. His dark hair falls messily over his forehead, like even in sleep,

a second to remember-being dragged back to the pack, Kallias standing there like a fucking statue while I bled out on the ground, Seraphina watching with that smug,

1. me.

lavender and old wood, the comforting scent of the packhouse that I never thought I'd miss. The

I shift, pain stabbing through every nerve, and oh

adventure that was

and I turn my head-slowly, because

Enoch.

on his knees, watching me with a stare so intense it could melt steel. His face is unreadable, but there's

throat is dry as hell, but I manage to

brows furrow like he's trying to process the insult. Then he exhales through his nose,

more of a huff. But

short-lived, though, because then his hand reaches forward, hesitant, almost unsure, before he brushes a strand of hair from my face. His

to break the tension, but he

end this... for

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Chapter 47

a whisper, but it crashes over me like

But

planning? It's going to be

And honestly?

think I'm okay with

tight lodges itself in my

ribs, stopping me cold. My breath hisses between my teeth. Enoch's head snaps up

rough, thick from

"No," I lie. Badly.

call me out on it, but his hands are already reaching, brushing the

where bruises bloom

in his

I don't need to. He

fingers twitch, like they want to break something.

time,

away.

Wrong thing to say.

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

matters." His voice is pure gravel, rasping over my skin like a promise. Or a

should tell him to stop. That he doesn't need to get involved. But something in me-the stupid, reckless, self-destructive part-wants to see what he'd do if I didn't stop him. If I just let him be

A King.

sends a

because his hold on my chin

my neck, just resting there. His thumb skims

voice drops, softer this time.

Safe.

slow, bitter smile curls