Traded To The Lycan King



*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.

"I didn't 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 away.

"You were staring at me," He says. "I assumed you were curious."

"I'm not here to be your best friend again, 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. Why would we when there isn't much to say?

It is obvious she hates me and looks down on me for some reason. But if we are going to be stuck together for a while, then I may as well familiarize myself with her snide remarks.

“Are you lost, Tracker?" She muses, her deep brown eyes blinking slowly.

"No, Nisha." I tell her. "Just coming up for some air."

I mutter the sentence, not even realizing how much I mean them until I hear them in my own ears. Being around Hayes is 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 want to hide from them.

Nisha shakes her head before she points up ahead, where Koda saunters, ducking under a branch.

"You could walk with Koda." She offers and I admit her immediate desire to send me off ruffles my skin and my lip twitches with annoyance. "Did I do something to offend you?" I ask, tired of the shitty attitude.

"No," She arches a brow.

"So your dislike for me is purely a personal choice." I scoff and nod my head. "Fantastic."

I take a few steps before she exhales and groans. Her hand reaches out, clutching my elbow, tugging me back next to her.

"Look," she sighs, "I just...I am protective of these guys. They are my family, a weird, fucked up and very anger filled family. But that's all I have, so yes, I am hesitant to welcome someone else into the group."

"Well, lucky for you, I'm not looking for a family.” I say my word, drifting off as my eyes scan the area around us, a scent prickling my senses as I slow down. The trees are still, not a breeze breaking through the dense foliage of the forest, yet my nose draws my attention to the right.

Nisha says something to me as I narrow my eyes, tilting my chin up and taking a deep inhale.

Heat permeates the air, the scent of overly warm metal or charcoal in the faintest way pulling me off the path the others trod down.

My lycan perks up, and I squeeze my eyelids together, allowing the world around me to fall silent. In the darkness I see a dull light, like a thread leading me as it pulses away, calling me to follow. I can feel the excitement rising in my gut, a smile coming to my lips as I throw my eyes open and sprint off in pursuit.

"Kyra! Where are you going?" Nisha hisses after me, but I am too far gone, already on the hunt.

As I cut around a tree, I notice a mark on the bark of the tree. There is a small fresh cut, the under skin looking green and still moist. It's more like a dent, as if a rock were hammered into it. My fingers run over the indent, a shiver running through my body when I bring my hand to my nose and look closely. There is a slight shimmer, an oily hue, on my fingertips. As if it matches the flame fuel a dragon

uses to spit its fire.

to

I can hear hushes 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 my heightened hearing.

Tracking again feels like coming home after being gone for too long. My heart sings for the first time since losing everything, a part of me coming alive again as I slip through the trees. Every step brings me an exhilarating strike to my chest as I focus on controlling my breathing, keeping it low and silent.

I have no idea how long I track for,

elme

stopping every now and again to feel the trees, search for the scent and listen for the animals in the trees as I grow closer. My brow dots with sweat as I break into a small opening, ending at a large rocky wall. I stay in the cover of the canopy, lingering in the shadows as I glance up, looking for a way to climb or potentially see how they made their way up top.

When I notice the harder rock

surface to the left, away from the fallen shale on the front face of the cliff side, Linhale deeply and step into view sprinting toward it. As

reach

ch gut, touching the cold stones, I press myself to it, looking up and mapping out my path. I suck my lip into my mouth, gnawing on the lower corner, debating on whether or not I should trust the openings I see.

But this is the first real chance we have had to catch Ezrah, or at least get close enough to remain on his trail. So I take three seconds to breathe through my nerves and shake my hands and fingers out.

"Ty, if you were here, you would love this." I mutter to myself before I purse my lips and exhale slowly. "This display of bravery is for you."NôvelDrama.Org (C) content.

I throw my hand up into the first crevices, swinging my leg until I find a footing and I push myself up. Each move is slow and methodical as I work to keep myself from falling.

It is slow and painful as rocks cut at the palms of my hands, but I push on. I am almost halfway up the wall face when my fingers slip and I cling to a rock, the sharp edge slicing into the palm of my hand.

The blood makes my hold slick as I swing my body, desperate to find anything to reach for with either my fingers or my feet. One moment I am swinging and the next my toes tap into something and I force my weight to it with a pained grunt before I try to give my injured hand a shove off the

rock.

The cut is too much, my fingers tingling as they lose feeling, and I linger between a delicate balance on my foot and my flailing arms. The reality hits with gravity as I teeter back and my footing disappears and the world twisting around me as I pick up speed.

Fear climbs up my throat with a silent scream as my stomach moves into my chest. A part of me wants to let it happen, to just crash to the ground and let the rocks break open my skull and hide my pool of blood beneath them.

But then I remember why I am here, what it is I am doing and stopping. No one, not even the likes of Nisha, should have to experience the loss that I have, and until Ezrah is found, and the egg delivered, no mates are safe.

My lycan breaks out at the last moment, my nails cutting into the side as I come to a halting stop, my body swinging into the side of the rocks with a grunt making me recoil in pain.

I scramble again for a grip, pain slipping through my body like a heated knife to butter. My body slams into the ground, a raspy grunt forced from the remaining air in my lungs.

My lycan retreats, as I turn onto my hands and knees, heaving as my stomach boils over from the sheer panic and fleeting death. As I try to stand, a calloused hand wraps around the back of my neck, yanking me back enough to make my teeth clatter together.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?!” a voice growls, sending a shiver through my spine as my mouth goes dry.