His Lost Lycan Luna (Kyson and Ivy)

Book 2. His Found Luna Chapter 47
Kyson POV
As we stepped into the room, Azalea growled as the fresh linens scents overwhelmed her. Trey rushed into the room behind me, looking alert despite having not slept in two days.
“What is it?” Trey said behind me. I watched as Azalea moved toward the bed, sniffing the air.
“Nothing. Liam had Clarice clean everything in here. It smells wrong to her,” I tell him. Trey sighs. The only lingering scents were Gannon, Dustin’s, and Peter’s, who must have helped oversee everything because I forgot Gannon couldn’t come with us because of her command over him.
“Okay, as long as everything is alright,”
“Go to bed, Trey. Try to sleep before the sun comes up. She is safe with me,” I tell him. He nods and reluctantly leaves. I found his bond to her odd, but now trusted him. I was seeing what an advantage we had with him. It almost seemed like he could sense. Azalea growls, fixing her den as she destroys the sheets and makes her nest. She was whimpering at the crisp linen scent. She raided the closet, trying to find clothes with my scent, and I stepped inside behind her as she snatched stuff off the hangers.
Tears trekked down her face as she sniffed each piece. They weren’t supposed to touch my stuff. I hoped they would have left a few pieces, knowing how savage she may become once her nest was ruined. She tosses them down in frustration and rips more off the hanger, sniffing each one when I grab her arms.

“Hush, you don’t need my scent when you have me. We can fix it,” tell her when she spins around, her eyes glowing, and she looks crazed. Her eyes ran over me as she sniffed me and licked her lips. I groaned in frustration. I liked this suit too! When she looks over me from head to toe, I back away from her.
“Wait, Azzy. I will take them off, and I will climb in your nest with you. Please don’t-” she pounced on me, cutting my words off as her claws slipped out. I catch her, my arms slipping around her waist as her legs lock around my hips. I sigh. Damn it.
Her claws ripped at my clothes, and I purred, trying to calm her frantic instincts as I turned around and moved toward the bed. My suit jacket she had claimed and my shirt as buttons went flying as she tore it to shreds.
“I really liked that suit,” I mutter, placing her on the bed as her teeth sink into my chest. As she licked me, sparks exploded across my skin. I pressed her into the clean linens earning a snarl as she let me go and rolled, taking my clothes with her. She rearranged them in her nest, duck feathers going everywhere as she ripped a pillow apart.
Tloved and hated her den; I loved it because she made it, and it made her feel safe, but I hated how my clothes got destroyed; her possessiveness was amusing until she turned her savage gleam on me. I clicked my tongue and folded my arms across my chest.
“No, you have my shirt and jacket,’ I tell her or what is left of them. She whimpers, the sound crushing as she stares at my pants.
“I will lie in your nest until you’re satisfied, but the pants I am keeping,” I tell her, determined to keep them. She just shredded a suit that cost me a damn fortune. Her bottom lip quivers. Damn, pregnancy hormones were making her wild. I pull my belt out of the loops, cursing before slipping them down my legs and stepping out of them. I grab and hold them out to her, and she snatches them, rolling them into her nest.
She wouldn’t be satisfied. I knew that. My scent was still faint in the sheets, and I moved toward the bed. I hated seeing her so distraught with instincts she barely understood. She growled at me when I pressed my hands onto the bed. “Where do you want me, then?” I ask, not wanting to ruin her nest until she had it the way she preferred. Her breathing becomes harsher. It is dangerous to go into a Lycan den or near a frantic pregnant Lycans nest. You don’t touch or change it, especially scents not belonging to the mate. It’s their cocoon of safety, and other scents were intruders.
Azalea grips her hair in frustration. The moment I stepped into the room, instant regret hit me when I realized how not a speck of our scents was in here. Whoever polished and cleaned it would hear about it. They know better, and this was now becoming a problem as she suddenly started clawing and ripping at her clothes, her hair, the lack of our mingled scents and cloying scent of bleach 1 could smell radiating out of the bathroom sending her mad.
I open the mind link, searching for Dustin, Gannon, and Clarice. They all answer simultaneously, “Yes, my King.”
Who the fuck cleaned the room and bleached the bathroom?” Clarice gasps, and I know it wouldn’t be her. She wouldn’t be stupid enough.
“We changed the sheets and removed her clothes and the curtains like you asked, Dustin answered.
“Then why would you wash all of my clothes?” | growl. They could have at least left some of those