Traded To The Lycan King by MG Wattsons

I groan as I crawl onto the plush bed, plopping down next to Colette's sleeping body. My tired muscles twitch and tingle through me, from the hair on my head down to my toes. It doesn't matter that I've napped, or that my brother has refused to see me. What matters is my body is finally ready to shut down, and the thought has never felt so alluring.

Colette rustles as she rolls over onto her back, her eyes trained on mine in the low light of the room. I rise onto my elbow, scooting closer with great effort, and she bites her lips in a restrained giggle. My brow arches with a smirk.

"Something you want to say, Luna?" I drop my voice low, reaching out and gently stroking her cheek.

"No, I just..." she pauses, looking at my face before meeting my gaze.

"What?" I ask a concern growing in the pit of my stomach.

"I just love you." The words I have heard so many times feel different.

Maybe it's the heaviness of the days or the fact that this moment has a looming cloud of heartache, but they are weighted. Each one punctuated with the simplicity of the statement, but the inflection of her voice, the sincerity in her eyes. There is no way I can or will ever doubt that she means it. I can see it, feel it.

"That's convenient." I smile, "I just love you, too."

She giggles before she tugs at the blankets under me, prompting me to sit up.

"Do you love me enough to get off the top of the blankets so we can sleep?" She asks with a sweet smile popping on her face to convince me to move, but I see the veiled threat in it.

Colette may ask with her words, but her eyes are informing me I will be moving. I chuckle, rising up and crawling off the blankets before crawling under the silky textured sheets and heavy comforter. "Now come cuddle me," she demands.

My arm is already reaching out for her when she demands her cuddles, and before she can finish her sentence, I scoop her flush to my body. Colette wiggles into me, the back of her head pressing lightly to my lips. Her small body shudders in my arms and she presses into me further, silence coming over us as my eyes drift slowly closed.

"Thank you," she whispers suddenly.

"For what?" I ask, my voice groggy and just above the whisper.

"In your arms, it almost feels like I can pretend." She says.

"Pretend what?" I ask before realizing how dense the question is.

sniffle. My

and you are safe. When you are in my arms, you

says as

I am answering these questions right for her.

but...Is it so wrong to wish they could be

frown against

Caspian and Melody could be selfless because of

now they don't get to love anymore." She says, her body now shaking in my arms as I squeeze

dies that easily," I whisper in her ear. "Love remains after someone is gone. It's how we act, the ways we mirror

so good at this?" she asks me and I give a

her and she turns in her arms, facing

it hard?" She whispers, her cheeks glistening with

very hard," I tell her and she gives me a soft smile

rising yawn. "Maybe there I

settling into me with a gentle pressing of working lungs. I stave off my exhaustion for a few more minutes, watching her sleep, allowing myself this moment of

her grief will truly settle in and I don't know what that will look like. I just know that tomorrow I will

reprieve. My weary eyes drift over to Colette, who pushes herself up as well, her eyes scanning the

across the room, slipping into sweatpants before rushing to the door. My hand freezes on the doorknob, my fingers flexing before I look back

she urges me with sincerity. "Hayes needs you more than I do right

I break through the door and sprint through the old pack house, hoping my memory is good enough to deliver me right to his room. But another cry breaks out this

break through the

deformed and blistered left side of my brother's back and arm. It doesn't look nearly as raging in the very minimal lighting of the room, but there is no way it doesn't cause him immense

shutting

his good hand moving just as much. He looks down at the ground, his shoulders heaving up

out, his mouth opening as he sputters out a heavy exhale and his chest stutters in breath. It reminds me of when he was little and we would spar. On the rare occasion I would hurt

water but I hold it back, squatting down before him, unsure of how to comfort someone you can't hug or touch because of an injury. With

don't want to be here. I don't deserve to

are you talking about?" I say, trying to keep my anger at