Traded To The Lycan King



I crawl on my stomach toward Flora, my broken leg dragging behind me as I groan in pain. Flora looks drained, her chest heaving up and down wildly as she kneels slumped forward, her hair askew and in covering her face. I can hear Ezrah battering against the rooted shelter she made for him, but a quick look satisfies my fears he may escape.

"Flora," I whisper, dragging my body up and next to her as I hesitantly reach out and touch her back. She jumps, a frightened scream breaking from her lips before she seems to see me, and she relaxes.

"I was worried you were dead," she whispers. "I was afraid to look."

"You know, for a little bit, I thought you were trying to kill me." I chuckle and her face grows pale, her eyes darting away.

"Not intentionally." She mutters, a shudder raking through her body as she stares at the dead man laying on the ground. "What the hell was that?"

"Ah, you've never felt mind control before." I give her a soft smile.

Tears leak from the corner of her eyes as she tries to fight back a sob.

"I'm sorry." She murmurs.

"I'm just glad you came to your senses and killed him in time." She blinks at me, her brows knitting together.

"I did?"

A strange sensation flutters over me and I hug myself, feeling vulnerable. So much weird shit has been happening. Well, weird, I suppose, is normal, but this level of it is. Well, it's unsettling.

"One of your roots...I could have sworn it was you." I mutter, and she frowns.

"Maybe?" she says, but her words lack confidence.

"Crap." I groan, laying down on my back, my hands on my head as I try to calm my senses.

My lycan is exhausted and in pain. It is possible that someone else killed the wizard, likely another fae, but all worries fade away when Ezrah roars in frustration. I smile wide, a giggle bubbling up as, for a moment, I celebrate our little victory.

"We caught him." Flora whispers, looking down at me. I nod, a victorious grin on my face.

"Hell yeah we did." I tell her and she exhales.

"Should we look at the wizard?" Flora asks, scrunching her nose in distaste.

"To make sure he is dead?" I ask her and she nods.

"What if he isn't? My mind is mine, not anyone else's to toy with. I have worked too hard for control and he...he..." She pauses and chuckles as she wipes tears from her eyes.

"Hey," I say, sitting up and leaning in to look at her. "It's fine, okay? I will go check to make sure he is dead."

There is no way I can stand yet, not with how and where my leg broke. A broken tibia or fibula? Small and quick. But a mid femur break and likely not a clean one? There will be no walking for me for several hours. I shuffle over to the dead hooded man, coming up close to his body as I reach for his injury.

My fingers slip through the gaping wound in his chest. Blood covers my hand when I pull it out and then I reach for his neck, feeling for his pulse. Not that I need to really check it. A wound like his would be fatal even for a lycan. His face is pale, almost gaunt looking, as I peek at him, feeling no pulse as expected.

He is dead. There is not a single doubt about it. But the problem now is HOW he died. I had assumed it was Flora who beat his hold on her and found a way to save herself. But with her confession that she doesn't recall it...I'm not so sure.

"Is he dead?" Flora calls out to me.

"Definitely." I tell her, and she seems relieved. "Can you come look at him? See if you know him."

Her eyes grow wide and her face green as she shakes her head.

"No way!" She squeals, jumping up. "I don't know him. I can promise you that."

I frown at her and look back at the dead body before shoving away from him and dragging myself over toward Flora.

"How can you know if you refuse to look?" I ask her, my voice gentle as I try to be reassuring.

"Because I know!" she insists.

I press my lips together, realizing there is clearly something more going on. Either she knows this dickhead and refuses to admit it, or she is afraid to look at someone she killed. Well, if she is the one that killed him. Whatever it may be, it has me on my guard as I scan the trees around us.

"Are you sure that thing will hold him?" I sigh, changing the topic, for now, as I point to Ezrah.

"Yeah, for a little while anyway." She says, the relief on her face from me dropping the topic is incredibly apparent. "How do you plan to transport him?"

"That is not my job," I tell her, though I have been wondering the same thing.

Perhaps Teiran will be able to

manage him? Fly with him in dragon form in his claws? My plan was originally to use Terian to help

subdue Ezrah, which, clearly, we

ended up not needing. I smile to

myself, proud that we could not only capture him, but find him. It was complete teamwork and Flora

played a huge part in it.

It feels strange, trusting people so easily, but I know it would make Tyler so proud. He always said that when you are able to trust yourself, it becomes easier to trust others. Admittedly, trusting myself these days has been rough. Hell, trusting myself since losing him has been rough.

"Can I ask you something?" Flora asks, plopping down onto the ground next to as we face Ezrah, waiting for him to make a single attempt to free himself.

"Sure."This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

“Are we friends...?” She asks, and my mouth falls open, closing as I turn to look at her, watching her expression. Flora is serious, her eyes batting as she waits nervously for my answer.

"Uh, well... We can be." I tell her. It

net

should have been obvious that she didn't have any friends with the way she defended the deer she demanded was her friend. I had thought she was maybe just a nature freak, or mentally unstable. But maybe she is lonely, just like I have been. How else would she not

know about the war?

"That would be awesome." She grins widely, her cheeks dimple and her eyes sparkle in excitement.

"Can I ask you a question now? As a friend?" I ask her and she nods.

"How old are you?" I ask her, and she tilts her head in thought.

"Only eighty-six." She smiles.

"Is that young, by your standards?" I ask. Everyone knows Fae lives longer lives, but for her to be eighty-six and look no older than twenty is insane. "Yes." She nods. "I have lived out in these woods all my life. My mother did not believe in what the kings and queens were doing in our world. It may shock you but, I've never had a real friend before."

I let out a laugh.

"Oh, that is very shocking indeed." I chuckle as she shakes her head.

"Are you fucking SERIOUS!" A voice roars behind us, and my body shivers.

Flora looks at me, alarmed, and I give her a grin before I turn to look over my shoulder and look at a furious and annoyed Hayes.

"Oh hey, you made it." I say, flashing him a smug smile, relishing the look on his face when his nostrils flare.

"You are late.” His voice rumbles through his chest as he stomps in my direction.

Before I can get a word in, he reaches down and lifts me up by the collar of my shirt. My eyes widen and my lips part as he gives me a shake, as if he

is trying to capture my undivided attention. I wince, looking away as I bite my lip, trying to fight off the scream of pain.

"We found Ezrah," Flora jumps up, grabbing at his hands as if she is trying to free me.

"Then you should have come back!" He screams. "We have been searching everywhere for you both."

"How late are we?" I ask, my voice quivering in pain that makes him blink in surprise. His grip eases as he lowers me to my feet, my good leg bearing all the weight.

"Twenty-nine minutes." Teiran says, coming out from behind a tree, his eyes curious and his nose sniffing the air.

"So you came after us immediately after we left?" I scoff, shaking my head in disappointment.

Hayes releases me immediately, giving me a gentle shove that forces me to step back on my broken leg.

I scream in agony, my hands flying

out to hold my thigh as I sob, unable to fight the fears as the pain rocks through my body. I slam into the ground with my side, my head bouncing off a warm, soft ground before I am lifted and curled into a chest. Hayes adjusts his hold on me and I realize I had made it to the ground. He had caught me.

"Shit, Ky. Where are you hurt?" He whispers, his forehead suddenly pressed to mine, sparks bursting through me as we both gasp at the touch. Hayes' nose gently rubs over mine, his breath heating my face as he tilts his chin and kisses my forehead like he might actually care about me.

"My leg," I croak, trying to pull away from him, but he only tightens his grip.

"I'm not letting you go," He whispers, but there is an inflection in the way he says it, one that springs a hope I have fought for so long. The hope that maybe, just maybe, Hayes might finally want me.