Claimed By the King’s Gamma novel Chapter 10

Her tiny wolf tries to keep up, but she easily looses track of me, so I decide to double back, coming up from behind her. When I find her, Abbie’s wolf is sniffing the ground, trying to pick up my scent. She is by the river’s edge, and her head swivels from side to side, glancing among the trees as she tries to locate where I went. However, doubling back and the added breeze is confusing her as she follows her nose before giving up and dropping her rump to the ground as she sits staring at the river.

Still, I don’t step out of my hiding spot. Instead, I watch her like some damn creep for a while. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I want to see if she will try to escape being this close to the border. I don’t know why I want to see if she is tempted to; maybe because my fascination with the girl is quickly turning into an obsession, and I don’t want her to leave.

After a while, she wanders closer to the water’s edge, dipping her head, trying to drink from it. It is pretty shallow there, so I’m not sure why she won’t just wade in. Maybe she doesn’t want to get wet?

As she attempts to get closer, her front paws slip slightly, and Abbie rears back, scooting further away from the bank. Her heart rate is easily discernible as it thumps erratically. She nervously glances around as if she is trying to figure her way back before she huffs and yawns, then lies down. Stepping out from the treeline, and the tree I was watching her from, her ears perk. She instantly gets to her feet. Spotting me, she rushes over and zips between my legs, rubbing herself on my legs.

Shewolves are amazing in their wolf form, unrestricted for the most part. They have no control, and that is when they were predominantly closest to my species, baser instinct kicking in, just not as strong as a Lycans urges. Leaning down, I brush my fingers through her soft, thick fur, my claws bumping over the ridges of her spine. She is skinny—too skinny—for a werewolf. I briefly wonder how many times she has shifted because her wolf side should have the bulk of hard muscle, yet even through her fur, I can feel nothing but skin and bone.

My touch, however, seems to make her snap back to herself, and she drops to the ground as if commanded, the rational part of her brain retaking control of her actions. A whimper escapes her as if she thinks she shouldn’t have behaved in such a way.

The she-wolves I know are always submissive to those of stronger potency, so it is not surprising she thinks she would be in trouble for her actions. She reminds me of Ivy in this sense. Both girls are unusually submissive, as if over the years, any sense of themselves was slowly beaten out of them until they were nothing but compliant to others’ whims. I am not surprised Abbie would fight her own instincts even in this form. Crouching beside her, she instinctively turns languid, flopping on her side and showing me her belly.

I chuckle, knowing Abbie must be internally cringing at her wolf side’s actions. Yet if Abbie is anything like Ivy, she won’t understand her own instincts or werewolf and Lycan heritage for that matter. I’ve seen the way Kyson struggles the same with Ivy and her timidness.

Abbie whines as I rub her belly and chest before I scoop her up, making her yelp loudly. My heart lurches in my chest, thinking I have hurt her as I drag her into my lap.

“Did I hurt you?” I ask worriedly. That wasn’t my intention, but sometimes I forget my strength. Yet she shakes her wolfy head from side to side and I know I startled her, as I cross my legs beneath her. She rests her head on my knee, but she pants as if thirsty. I look at the river, wishing she could answer me back in that form. Lycans can speak in either form whereas werewolves can’t, though they do have pack mindlinks. But she is a rogue, so wouldn’t even have that.

“You can drink from the river. Clarice won’t care if you get wet,” I tell her, rubbing her ears softly. She looks over at it and lets out a huff. I furrow my brows. I know the water here is fresh because I have drank from it. When I move, she crawls off my lap, and I move to the river edge where the water is deepest and dive in. When I breach the surface, I find her wolf has moved closer and is sitting on the edge of the bank. She stares down at her reflection in the water then she tilts her head from side to side, sniffing the air. Swimming over to her, she lifts her head and watches me.

I splash her, but she doesn’t react. “Come in. You won’t get in trouble,” I tell her, but she shakes her head. Her bright green eyes watching me curiously.

“Are you thirsty?” I ask her, and she nods. I furrow my brows as I swim closer to her, cupping my furry palms in the water and lifting them so she can drink from them. Her tongue laps at my hands thirstily, and I cup them again so she can drink more.

Once she has her fill, she bumps my hand with her wet nose and backs away from the edge a little more. It’s not as if I am naked, not that I would shift in front of her. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea, and I know she would have questions if she saw me naked. I don’t exactly have war scars gracing my body. You could tell they are self-inflicted.

Glancing up at the darkening sky, it isn’t cold, so that can’t be it. Realization hits me, her potent fear. She can’t swim.

“You can’t swim?” I ask, wanting to be sure. She nods her head once, looking back at me.

“Shift; I will try to teach you,” I tell her, not that I have ever taught someone to swim before. My own father taught me by throwing me in deep water and saying kick or drown. I learned quickly because I knew the bastard wasn’t coming in after me. Yet somehow, I know she will drown if I try that with her.

“I won’t look, I promise,” I tell her, turning around yet moving closer to the bank where she can reach me. The water is shallow here, or maybe it is because currently, I stand over seven feet tall in this form. However, I am surprised when I hear her shifting behind me. I honestly didn’t think she would.

Yet I don’t hear her get in the water. Turning slightly, I hold my hand out to her, making sure not to turn my head. Her fear is strong in the air as if she is unsure of the water or maybe me.

I can’t be sure, but I have to hold in my gasp when I feel her tiny hand slide into mine. I grab her hand, my claws sliding over her wrist, when I hear a splash before both of her hands suddenly grip my outstretched arm, and she coughs. Her fingers pull the fur out along my arms, and I turn quickly, using my other arm to wrap around her waist while her legs latch around my hips in a grip that would be crushing if I were human.

She continues to cough and sputter for a second before rubbing her eyes with one hand and then opening them.

“Are you sure we won’t get in trouble?” she asks, her hands moving to my chest, where she grips my fur tightly like she is afraid I will let her drown. I move further out to where not even I can stand.

“You’re with me. Why would you get in trouble?” I ask. Abbie says nothing, and I try to unwrap her legs. Her grip on my fur tightens, her nails digging into my skin.

“What are you doing?” she shrieks.

“I won’t let you drown, Abbie,” I tell her, gripping one of her wrists and prying her grip off me. I set her hand on my shoulder, and her other hand moves to grip the other.

“Use your legs, and kick them under the water,” I tell her, and after some prompting, she eventually unlatches them from my waist. I swim backward as she moves, her legs treading water.

We lose track of time after a few hours. It is pitch black, yet she seems to be having fun until I notice her teeth chattering. Although, I am confident enough that if she falls into a body of water, she will be able to get herself out, I still wouldn’t trust her to go swimming alone, especially if there is a current.

Abbie grips my shoulders as I swim back to the bank. I try not to laugh at her white legs and ass. She doesn’t need to know I can see her completely because I can see beneath the water. I move to lift her back onto the bank when she whispers.

“Gannon, I’m naked,” she says when I grab her waist to hoist her up. I don’t have the heart to tell her I could see her the entire time. The water is far from murky, though I know to her eyes it would have looked like it. For me, I can see every part of her.

So for now I will allow her that sense of privacy. Besides, I have seen her change plenty of times in her room when she doesn’t know I’m watching her.

“I’ll close my eyes,” I chuckle, and she nods. I lick her cheek, lifting her onto the bank. When I don’t hear her shift, my ears prick.

“Abbie?” I ask because I can hear her heart beating and her breathing.

“Don’t look. I am having trouble. Just give me a second.” Minutes pass, and still, I do not hear the crack of her bones, and I can hear her frustrated breathing as she tries.

“You haven’t shifted much, have you?” I ask her.

“I have, but this is only the second time I have gone for a run,” she admits, and I sigh.

“Abbie, I am going to have to open my eyes,” I tell her, and her heart rate quickens.

“No, I can do it, just give me a second,” she panics.

“Abbie, you should have told me you didn’t go for runs often. I wouldn’t have worn your wolf out,” I tell her.

“Huh?” she asks.

“Your wolf side needs stamina. Had I realized, I wouldn’t have taken you so far from the castle. In my bag is a shirt you can put on,” I tell her. I hear movement and her rummaging around in the bag.

“Are you covered?”

“Ah, kind of,” she murmurs, and I open my eyes to see her trying to tug my shirt down her legs. As I climb out, I notice her normally wavy red hair is straight as a pencil from being wet. She steps back as I approach her.

“I have no pants on,” she squeaks.

“I know,” I laugh, holding my hand out to her. She looks at it before sighing and taking it as I scoop up the bag, tossing it over my shoulder.

We start the long trek back to the castle, but the longer we walk, the slower she becomes as mosquitoes attack her flesh. Her hands swat at her naked legs as she tries to stop them from biting her. We are at least another thirty minutes from the castle at this pace. Stopping, I adjust the bag on my shoulder. Grabbing her under the arms, she squeals as I pick her up.

“What are you…”

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” I tell her, but she doesn’t, and I growl when she remains stiff as a plank in my hands. Hugging her closer, I crush her against my chest before lifting her legs around my hips and placing my arm under her butt. She squeaks, shoving off my chest and thrashing.

“Are you done; stop hitting me,” I tell her, nipping at her neck and she freezes though I am curious about her strange reaction to me pulling her closer. I lick her cheek. Her heart hammers against my chest, her skin is ice cold, and she is shaking.

“It’s quicker, I can run with you.” I pull my face back to look at her.

“Liam is of Beta blood, but we can only have one Beta and he doesn’t want it,” I tell her.

“So, how do you compete?”

“The trials, Liam, could match Damian, but he is a little unhinged and always drunk.”

“Could he beat you in the trials? Aren’t you third in command?” she asks, and I hum.

“If he wanted to, I suppose, but then again, I train daily with the guard, so probably not, but if it came to orders and he chose to use his aura, yes.”

“Doesn’t it bother him that he is of lower rank than you since he is Beta blood.”

“No, he is like my brother, just like Damian and Kyson. Packs are family, united. It doesn’t matter where we fall. We all have each other’s backs where it counts.”

“Sounds like me and Ivy—more than my life,” she says, and my brows pinch together at her words.

“And what does more than my life mean to you?”

“Means I fight, you fight, we fight together, we die together,” she says simply, yet the far-away look she gets, I feel it means more than what she claims.

“I will speak to Kyson and see if he will allow her to see you. We are going away soon. I need to go to one of the neighboring kingdoms with the king.”

“There is another kingdom?” she asks curiously.

“Yes, but it’s a fallen kingdom; the Landeena Kingdom.” I tell her and she nods slowly.

“So why are you going there?”

“The king wants to look back into the old case; they were supposedly murdered by hunters, but they had a daughter who was never found. One who was promised to the king when she came of age.”

“How long ago did the kingdom fall?” she asks.

“About sixteen years ago, usually Damian would go with him, but the king is paranoid this time since he intends to take Ivy with him.”

“Why?” she asks, and I feel the rapid beat of her heart thumping erratically against my chest. I don’t answer because I can’t, yet her worry makes me regret mentioning it.

“She’ll be fine. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

“Yes, but why is she leaving? What does the king want with her? She should be with me. We have never been separated. She—” she sucks in a breath and kicks her legs, wanting to be put down. I let her slide down as she moves to climb the hill.

I catch her hand to stop her. “Abbie?”

“I should go inside; I have chores to do,” she says while trying to tug down the shirt she is wearing as if her nudity bothers her. I think it odd. She is the first werewolf I have met that is afraid of showing her own skin. But then again, I was scared to show her mine, not because I am shy, that definitely isn’t it, but because I don’t want her to pity me.

“She will be fine, Abbie,” I try to reassure her, but she doesn’t look like she believes me.

“Yeah, and that’s what Alpha Dean said when he brought us to the orphanage, that we would be fine. No one tells you their intentions Gannon, not really. Not until they have what they want from you, and by then, it’s too late,” Abbie says, rushing off and leaving me dumbfounded. Are we talking about the same thing?