Traded To The Lycan King by MG Wattsons

Chapter 180

Kyra's lips purse as she breathes softly through them, her hair still caked to her forehead and cheeks from where she was sweating. I want nothing more than to sweep the strands from her face, caressing her still flushed skin. But I hold back, refusing to allow myself these small stolen moments. Then again, if stolen moments are the only moments we are destined for, is it wrong to act on them? She mumbles as she adjusts her position with my arm up, allowing her to move as she twists her body toward me. Her chin tilts up, putting the full force of her spectacular freckles on display.

There is no force strong enough in the world to stop me as my fingers gently brush over her brow, freeing her face of the sweat dried hair. Heavens, she is so perfect. More so than when she left. Kyra would have worn me down in a week had she stayed. My ability to tell her no, to see her in pain, would have seen me rejecting any mate that came my way.

I don't know if I did the right thing by rejecting her and ignoring her. I was trying to protect her from the hurt of knowing she wasn't fated to be mine. That little voice in the back of her head saying there is someone else better for me than her. And I was trying to save myself from the fear of finding someone else while I was with her.

"You stayed," she whispers, startling me as I yank my hand back and clear my throat.

"I thought you wanted me to?" I ask, a nervousness causing me to swallow a growing lump in my throat. What if she asked only because she was poisoned and she doesn't remember?

"No, I know it's just that..." She frowns, and looks down at the baby in her arms. "I just figured you would run off after we fell asleep."

"You were shivering." I lie, clearing my throat yet again, and I sit up and look away. Why am I feeling like I need to lie to her? Kyra is well aware that we are mates, I have told her as much and it seems a mately duty to do as she asks.

"I must have been cold." She whispers, but I can hear the doubt in her voice. When I turn to look at her, she is sporting a ghost of a smile. Her eyes watch me closely, peering through me as if she can read my every thought. Kyra knows why I stayed, and she knows why I lied.

"Probably." I mutter, pushing myself up to stand as I turn and look for something to do, anything to do.

"What do you think was used to poison me?" She asks, sitting up as the baby fusses, flailing his little arms.

"That is a good question." I mutter, moving around the trees to find the dead wizard we had discarded earlier. I squat down, pushing the leaves around, looking for any sign of foul play. There is nothing, not a vial or even a familiar scent to the one on him. Until I move closer, leaning down near his head. A thick ooze leaks from the back of his skull.

has been dead for far too long for something to be bleeding out of him. The memory of the zombie wolves comes to mind, and I wonder if there is now a similar situation with the wizards. The fae have divided, so it is not

away. The putrid smell is worse than death, but that of a carcass used to grow spores and attract bugs

the ooze sizzling my skin as I hiss and wipe it on the grass, shaking my hand. I look at it with care, my nose scrunched in disbelief as I inspect not only my injured finger, but the smell one more time. "What is that?" Kyra asks.

in some form or another, but why

a cautious step back before I reach out and take the baby into my arms. The infant boy fusses, the tiniest pout on his little lips before his dark eyes close, and he lets out a

doing?" Kyra panics, reaching for

wrapped around him. His little fists fly up as if he is ready to fight, which only makes me smirk. This little guy came into this world the center of a war and is ready to swing at his

her hand on my back as she hobbles closer, trying to peek around my arm. "I have checked him over numerous times already. Just

at her. I take a step back, giving us space as I sigh and try

fine. Now give him

in her daze and convinced I was

say softly and she looks at me, taking her eyes off the baby for a moment and

that about your scars.

then another, then I reach

attention. "This is not your baby. He has a family, one he belongs with, and when we unite them, it will end this

in

Tyler." The memory of her calling me by

tears filling

is not our baby." I say, making sure she

is soft,

her, no longer asking if she feels it but demanding that she admit it. Her eyes fall closed, a tear streaking down