His Lost Lycan Luna (Kyson and Ivy)

A few hours later, with a whiskey in my hand, I watched her. For some reason, I couldn’t get the look of

her eyes out of my head, how they glowed, and her strength as she struggled. She must have been

angry because it took nearly all my strength for me to subdue her. The other thing that bothered me was

how she was able to resist my command in her anger. The calling she stood no chance against, but my

command she fought. I was puzzled by it. Ivy had strength that was more than what a werewolf should

have, and fought my command, yet couldn’t fight the calling; I kept trying to tell myself it was because

she was my mate, yet something nagged at me as I pondered.

The sun was just peeking out along the horizon when I finally climbed into the bed next to her; she stirred

and rolled into me, and I growled at her touch, her small hands pressing into my side seeking me out

before I noticed she was still unconscious and just reacting to the bond. Reaching over to the bedside

table, I grabbed the handcuffs from where I placed them before clamping it on her wrist and securing it to

the headboard.

I couldn’t risk her waking before me and trying to run again, though now there was no place she could

run or hide from me. Not while my mark lay etched into her skin. She would learn her place is with me

and whatever I choose to do with her rests with me. She had no choice. It wasn’t hers, so until she

learned that, then I would make the choices for both of us. Settling back beside her, I rested my head on

the pillow and closed my eyes.

It only took moments for sleep to take me with her by my side, and I welcomed sleep. Not really get

complete sleep since I forced her out of the castle, but with her beside me snuggled into me and her

scent wrapping around me, I was plunged into oblivion.

*********

Ivy POV

My muscles ached as I blinked up at the ceiling. My head hurt, and I felt groggy as I rolled in the bed. Yet

when I went to move my hand to rub my eyes, something cold and metal caught my wrist.

Tilting my head up, I found one hand was cuffed to the headboard. I gasped, jerking on my trapped wrist,

yet the handcuff wouldn’t loosen. Panic seized me as the events of yesterday flooded back to me all at

once. My lungs felt restricted, and I struggled to breathe when my other hand went to my neck.

My fingertips tingled, and the sight stung a little as I remembered he marked me. His threat to tie me to

the bed came back to me, and my eyes scanned the room for him, but I saw him nowhere. By the light

outside, it was around midday, and I struggled against the restraint, the metal digging in and bruising my

wrist as I tried to free myself.

Warm tears streamed down my cheeks. He trapped me. He confined me to the bed and had now marked

me. A sob tore out of me at how it appeared to be nothing for him to do this to me, that he would do this

as I yanked my arm when I heard the door open. I turned my head, making me pivot to face it when his

scent wafted over to me. The King walked in and glanced at me and my attempt to escape.

“Wouldn’t be necessary, but I don’t trust you,” he said while walking over to the bar area. He had a book

in his hand, and he watched me as he poured himself a drink before setting the book on the coffee table

and sitting in the armchair.

“You tried to leave,” he said simply like it explained his harsh treatment. Yet all I could think of was the

number of times Mrs. Daley trapped or locked us away. I had confinement and was extremely

claustrophobic. Despite the size of the room, being trapped on the bed and unable to use that hand

made it feel tiny like the walls were pressing closer and threatening to crush me.

“You’re scared,” he stated, sipping his drink and watching me over the rim.

“Let me go, Kyson,” I stammered.

“Never, Ivy. What part of you are mine did you have trouble understanding? Did you think being fated to

a King you could just leave and there would be no consequences?” he asked. I glared at him. Although

my sudden anger didn’t stop the tears from sliding down my face or the feeling of unease at being

trapped. His presence simply made me more nervous. I turned my gaze to the closet before lying back

down on my side.

The sound of his glass clinking, being placed on the coffee table, and his footsteps growing nearer told

me he was walking toward me. “You can’t just leave; the bond won’t allow it, not for me anyway,” he said

as he came over and stood at the edge of the bed.

“Then reject me and be done with it,” I told him.

“Lycans can’t reject their mates. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. And I don’t want to,” he said, though with

the way he said it, it was like he was trying to convince himself he wanted me. So it was not at all

promising on my part. Nor did it offer me any form of hope.

“I will remove the handcuffs when I feel you can be trusted, and right now, through the bond, all I can feel

is your anger, Ivy. Until I no longer feel it, you will remain handcuffed understood,” The king said firmly,

like he was scolding a child and not his mate. Words failed me when I felt his fingertips grip my chin and

tilt my face to look up at him.