Traded To The Lycan King by MG Wattsons

Chapter 151

*Kyra*

I catch myself constantly stealing glimpses of Hayes' injury. The way the scars seem to crawl up his neck and into his cheek like a thorny rose vine creeping up a trellis. It twists and dips, spots shiny while others are dull and deep. My fingers itch to touch it, to trace the

tendrils that caused him so much pain as they dance up the side of his head, burning off half his eyebrow.

It's mesmerizing, almost beautiful. A map of his sufferings. He finds it appalling, convinced I could only feel the same way. But I don't avoid his touch because of his injuries. I run from the sparks he seems immune to.

The explosion that rips through my body and tries to urge me to follow what the moon goddess has given me. It's not about moving on from what I lost, but accepting what I am being offered. But I'm not sure I can or that I want to.

"Ask me," Hayes sighs heavily, the annoyance clear in his exhale as he remains looking forward. My brows pull together, the left corner of my lip pulling down in a confused frown.

"What exactly am I asking you?"

"Did it hurt? Does it still hurt? How did it happen?" Hayes says, his voice flat and unaffected.

"Is that normally what people ask?" I watch him closely as he clears his throat and looks in the opposite direction. "Because I got the feeling people avoid you."

"Because of my burns?" He scoffs, and I snort.

"No, because you're an asshole now."

Dean and Marcos chuckle ahead of us, both of them shaking their heads.

"Yeah, well, if I look like an asshole people don't ask me annoying questions," He grumbles.

I arch a brow and smirk up at him, regardless of how much he tries to look away.

ask you any questions. You demanded I ask you what you assumed I wanted to know." I remind him and he nods, a small smile forming before he pushes it

staring at me," He says.

Hayes." I say, lengthening my strides to distance myself from him. After three steps, I spin, walking backward as I face him. "Every warrior knows what creates those burns, and I know the pain they bring the bearer of them." Then I spin on my toes and walk toward the front of the group. I catch up to Nisha, sliding up on her right side as she looks amused by my presence. Neither of us speaks.

looks down on me for some reason. But if we are going

you lost, Tracker?" She muses, her deep brown eyes

I tell her. "Just coming

entirely suffocating and when he isn't around, usually there is Marcos drowning me with his closeness and his overwhelming presence. Two entirely different men both successfully making me uncomfortable and

up

I admit her immediate desire to send me off ruffles

offend you?" I

She arches a

dislike for me is purely a personal choice." I

take a few steps before she exhales and groans. Her hand reaches out,

family, a weird, fucked up and very anger filled family. But that's all I have,

as my eyes scan the area around us, a scent prickling my senses as I slow

says something to me as I narrow my eyes, tilting my

of overly warm metal or charcoal in the faintest way pulling me off

dull light, like a thread leading me as it pulses

but I am too

cut around a tree, I notice

the bark of the tree. There is a small fresh cut, the under skin looking green and still moist. It's more like a

nose and look closely. There is a slight shimmer, an oily hue, on my fingertips. As if it matches the flame

spit its

arguing ways behind me, but I push forward. My nose may have picked up the scent, but my other skills have verified it. Ezrah and the egg are close. Now it is a matter of how close. What I need now is stealth and silence as I rely on my lycan's eyesight and

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