Claimed By the King’s Gamma novel Chapter 15

The drive to Landeena is tiresome and I miss Abbie already. The car weaves around yet another sharp bend, and I hear Ivy retching in the backseat again. I wince, my hands gripping the wheel tightly when Kyson forces the mindlink.

“Pull over, Gannon,” Kyson orders, his tone sharp and I can’t help the snort that escapes me hearing his frustration.

“Already on it,” I reply, steering toward the side of the road. I glance at Damian in the passenger seat, who is holding back a smirk.

“She’s going to puke her guts out before we even reach the castle,” Damian mutters, crossing his arms.

“I don’t why he thought it was a good idea; he should have just commanded her to answer.” I tell him. Apparently Ivy lied to him and the king’s genius punishment was to force her to get drunk knowing she doesn’t drink, or in this case get violently ill.

I pull the car to a stop, and in the rearview mirror, I see Kyson hop out, followed by Ivy who all but nearly falls out the door. Damian snickers beside me, and I can’t help but grin as we watch Kyson trying to hold her hair back while she pushes him away, clearly mortified.

“Oh he’s definitely pissed she lied to him.”

“No, he’s whipped, you watch him come sniveling back to get in her good graces now,” Damian says with a chuckle, shaking his head.

“The sniveling?” I try not to laugh. I’d pay to see that.

“More like panicking now he’s given her damn alcohol poisoning,” I say, pulling a cigarette out of my pocket and lighting it while we wait. “I’ve never seen him like this over anyone before. She’s got him wrapped around her little finger, and she doesn’t even know it.”

Damian smirks. “Not that he’ll admit it.”

“Not a chance,” I reply, blowing out a stream of smoke as I lean against the car. “He’d rather chew off his own tail than admit a little werewolf girl has him under her spell.” Damian sighs moving toward the king with bottled water and a little bag. I watch but remain by the car not feeling like being puked on.

Eventually, Kyson and Ivy climb back into the car. I quickly flick my cigarette and climb back in and start the engine again. Thar is when I see Ivy flop onto the seat and lie down under the air-conditioning vent through the limo window, her face pale. Kyson slides in next to her, clearly frustrated.

“Ivy, your seatbelt,” Kyson says, his tone firm.

Ivy ignores him, turning her face into the seat like she’s pretending he doesn’t exist.

“Ivy,” Kyson says again, more pointedly this time.

Damian snickers beside me, muttering under his breath, “Oh, here we go.”

“Ivy!” Kyson’s voice grows sharper, and I can practically feel the tension radiating from the backseat as his aura ripples out slightly.

Ivy groans dramatically, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

“Is she… growling at him?” Damian asks, his voice filled with disbelief. “Hmm seems we gotta get her drunk for her to put him in his place.” Damian snickers.

I glance in the mirror just in time to see Ivy giggle and shake her head, clearly amused with her drunk self. Kyson’s expression, on the other hand, is less than amused. He looks like he is seconds away from putting her over his knee and spanking her.

“You did not just growl at me,” Kyson says, his voice low with warning.

Damian leans closer to me, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. “And that’s what he gets for forcing her to drink,” he whispers.

“One,” Kyson says, starting his infamous countdown but we both know he won’t hurt her.

“One and a half,” Kyson growls, and Ivy responds with a noise that sounds suspiciously like a purring meow.

That’s it. Damian laughs over, while I try to keep the vehicle steady on the winding road.

“You laugh now but won’t be when he chucks a tantrum and you have to deal with him,” I say, shaking my head and biting my lip to hold back my own laughter as I listen to the king scold her.

“Are you seriously being disobedient over a seatbelt, Ivy? You do not want me to get to three,” Kyson warns.

“Two,” Ivy says casually, ignoring his tone.

“Now she’s pushing his buttons,” Damian pulls a face glancing in the back, but I slap his chest reminding him to keep his eyes forward.

“Well, aren’t you in quite the mood?” Kyson says, his tone dripping with exasperation. “If I didn’t know your werewolf side was slowly coming forward, I would have spanked you by now.”

“Oh, that’s going to go over well,” I say, glancing at Damian, who’s trying his hardest to ignore them in the back.

“Put your seatbelt on, Ivy,” Kyson says again, his patience clearly wearing thin.

“Put yours on, then,” she snaps back.

Kyson growls low and deep, the sound reverberating through the car. Ivy, undeterred, growls back, though it’s more of a whine this time.

“I like her drunk.” I admit. Damian looks at me with a silly smirk on his face.

“Sorry,” Ivy blurts out suddenly.

“You’re lucky I’m patient,” Kyson mutters, his voice dripping with irritation. “If you were anyone else, Ivy, I would not put up with this attitude. Hormones and werewolf instincts or not.”

There’s a scuffling sound from the backseat, followed by a startled yelp from Ivy. Damian and I both turn to look, making sure he hasn’t lost his temper with her. But he only rips her onto his lap, clipping his belt around her.

“Ivy, now your seatbelt is on,” Kyson says smugly, clipping the belt across both of them as she squirms to fix her pants.

Ivy huffs, clearly embarrassed, while Kyson leans back with a satisfied grin, resting his chin on top of her head.

Damian shakes his head, still laughing. “Well I’m glad I don’t have a mate, they seem like hard work.” Damian mutters.

“Yeah,” I say with a chuckle. “The poor bastard doesn’t stand a chance.”

The sound of Kyson’s purring fills the car, and Damian raises an eyebrow. “He’s purring now?”

“Hopefully she passes out soon, or I may go back and beat him if I have to listen to that the entire drive.” I chuckle as Damian looks at the directions and what’s along the route.

“Well, check that hotel, I don’t wanna drive through the night. Pull over at the next rest stop. I need to inform the King and let a few guards drive ahead to check it before we arrive.” Nodding, I speed up.

After pulling over at the rest stop, I switched out drivers with a couple guards in the car behind us. Now I sit in the back of the car with Kyson and Damian, watching as Ivy sleeps against him. She looks so small and fragile in his arms, her skin pale and marked with scars that tell a story none of us fully know yet. Kyson is tracing those scars now, his fingertips moving across her back under the thin blanket Damian handed him earlier.

Damian clears his throat, drawing Kyson’s attention. “We may need to take an alternate route. I don’t like the Black Forest—too many hiding places for an ambush,” he says.

Kyson sighs, glancing down at Ivy before nodding. “It’ll add an extra half-day’s drive,” he says reluctantly.

“I’m sorry, but it’s not a risk I’m willing to take,” Damian says firmly, his eyes darting toward Ivy briefly.

Kyson’s expression softens, and he nods again. “You’re right. Whatever is safer,” he says. Relief washes over Damian’s face, and I know he and I both worried Kyson would argue. But when it comes to Ivy’s safety, he doesn’t take risks.

Damian shifts in his seat, addressing me. “Did you find out more about her history? Her last name? Anything?” Making me realize I forgot to tell him I contacted her old Alpha.

I shake my head. “Not yet, but I reached out to the old Alpha. He said he’d dig up her files, and I can collect them next week.”

“I’ll come with you,” Kyson says, and I nod in agreement.

“He was curious why we wanted to know about her,” I add.

“What did you tell him?” Kyson asks, his tone sharp.

“I told him I wanted Abbie’s files, too. Said we needed to assess if they could be trusted among the other servants,” I reply.

Kyson nods, satisfied with my excuse. I glance at Ivy’s sleeping form again, her thin frame making her look even more vulnerable. Kyson’s fingers are still tracing her scars, his expression darkening. “He said she was young when she came to the orphanage. Her parents put up a fight. Apparently, her father killed the headmistress’s mate,” I tell them.

Kyson growls low in his throat. “That would explain the cruel punishments. But why let her remain with the headmistress, knowing that?”

I growl in agreement, shaking my head. “It doesn’t make sense. And when I asked why there were only two rogue children there, he got nervous. I think he’s covering for his son.”

Damian nods. “I got the same vibe when I spoke to him.”

Kyson’s head snaps toward him. “You weren’t assigned to look into it. Gannon was. So why did you talk to him?”

Damian meets his gaze without flinching. “Same reason as Gannon. I needed to know if she was a threat to you. It’s my job as Beta.”

Kyson’s expression softens slightly, and he peers back down at Ivy. “Well, is she?” he asks, a chuckle slipping out.

Damian smirks. “She is,” he says.

Kyson raises an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that answer.

“Don’t tell me it wouldn’t break you if she suddenly left,” Damian says, challenging him.

Kyson growls at the suggestion, his hold on Ivy tightening. “She’s not leaving me. I won’t allow it.”

“My point is proven. Physically, she’s no threat, but she could break you in other ways,” Damian says with a laugh.

“She won’t. I won’t allow it,” Kyson snaps back, though the tension in his voice betrays his worry.

“But she could,” Damian presses.

Kyson sighs, tugging Ivy closer and burying his face in her neck. Damian chuckles while I try to stifle a laugh.

“Shut up, both of you,” Kyson growls, though his tone lacks real venom. I know he’s aware of how amusing we find his obsession with Ivy, but he doesn’t see it that way.

“Don’t get your panties in a knot just because you realize she holds all the power,” Damian teases.

“I am still the king,” Kyson snaps.

“And she is your queen,” I say, nodding toward Ivy.

A small smile tugs at Kyson’s lips. He doesn’t deny it, but his expression shifts.

“I’m still the king,” he repeats, more to himself than to us.

Damian smirks knowingly. “So you keep saying.”

“My word is law,” Kyson insists, though his tone lacks conviction.

“For now,” I tease, and Damian snickers.

“I could always keep her as my servant,” Kyson says, but there’s no weight behind the words.

Damian folds his arms, giving him an incredulous look. “I didn’t say I would,” he says flatly.

“I know you won’t,” Damian says, his tone certain.

“Unless, of course, she did something bad,” I add, earning glares from both of them.

“Now, why would you say that? What bad bone does the girl have in her body?” Damian asks, frowning at me.

“I’m just saying,” I reply with a shrug.

“It would have to be something horrendous,” Kyson admits, his voice softening as he glances at Ivy again. “Even then, I’m not sure I could…”

He trails off, a small chuckle escaping him. I raise an eyebrow at him.

“Something funny, My King?” I ask.

“No, Gannon. I’m just thinking about her birthday. When she realizes I’m her mate,” he says, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

ABBIE

The rest of the day after they leave for the Landeena Kingdom, I am in a sour mood. I worry for Ivy no matter how many times Clarice reassures me she will be fine. After a while, she sends me upstairs. I think she got sick of my never-ending questions about the king’s intentions with her.

I am about to open the door to my little room when I remember what Gannon said, and I fish the key to his room out of my apron pocket. Moving toward his door, I place the key in and twist it. Pushing the door open, I glance around quickly stepping inside.

On the center of his bed is a paper bag, and I giggle, already knowing what it is. Opening it, I find candy clouds, chocolates, and a wrapped present beneath the brown paper bag. Confusion washes over me as I unwrap it, removing the decorative wrapping to find an art book, charcoal pencils, and some pastels.

I stare at it, shocked he remembered. Yet why would he buy it for me? I smile before hesitating. Wait, does he expect something in return? I wonder.

With that thought in mind, I swallow, setting it back on the bed and rushing out of the room, leaving everything behind. No one gives you something without expecting some form of payment, and I know the sort of payment that comes with food and niceties. Rushing to my room, I step inside and lock the door. I won’t make that mistake again.

TWO DAYS LATER

For two days, Ivy is gone, and when Clarice finally tells me she’s on her way back, I remain by the front door for hours. I need to make sure she’s okay. When I hear the crunch of tires on the cobble driveway, I am excitedly bursting at the seams. I see the limo pull in and I rush out the door. The king says something to Ivy before she rushes over and hugs me. I squeeze her tight, relieved she is okay.

“You barely know me,” I respond, attempting to hide the uncertainty in my voice.

“And the king barely knows Ivy, Abbie. It is no different, not really, anyway,” Gannon counters, his tone soft and persuasive.

“But what if you find your mate?”

“I won’t and it wouldn’t matter even if I did.”

“Why would you want me, though?” I ask, my heart pounding in my chest at the unexpected revelation. He scratches the back of his neck nervously, his eyes locked on mine.

“Because I like you. Why else?” he says, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice.

“Liking someone and loving them are two different things.”

“We could learn to love each other, Abbie. We would have all the time in the world,” he says, reaching forward and tugging me between his legs. He wraps his arms around my waist and gazes at me intently. Even sitting face to face, his height is imposing.

“Will you think about it?” he asks, his voice a gentle whisper. I chew my lip, my mind racing. Ivy did tell me Gannon would change me, and I do like him, but the thought of taking such a leap is daunting.

“But what if I find my mate?” I ask him, my voice barely audible. He sighs, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“Well, I am hoping you don’t, but if you did, and you wanted to be with them, I would let you go if that is what you wanted.” I nod, my heart aching at the thought of leaving Gannon behind. He lets me go, turning back to the bags filled with presents.

“Please take your gifts, Abbie. I got them for you, and I expect nothing in return. I just wanted to see you smile,” he says, his voice warm and sincere. I can’t help but smile at his words, my cheeks heating when he reaches up, brushing my cheek with his hand.

“There it is,” he says, a gentle smile playing on his lips before cupping my face in his hand.

“I have to go with the king tomorrow to your old pack,” he says, switching the subject.

“You’re going back?” I ask him, my voice thick with emotion. He nods, his eyes filled with determination.

“I have a bit of a strange request to ask, and you can say no if you like,” he says, his voice tentative.

I furrow my brows, curiosity piqued. “What is it?”

“Can I count how many lashes are on your back? The king wants to know. He counted Ivy’s while she slept, but he wants to punish Mrs. Daley, and he needs to know what charges to bring against her,” Gannon tells me, his voice laced with anger.

“He wants to punish Mrs. Daley?” I ask, shock registering in my voice. She has always been this figure who I believed could never be punished.

“You and Ivy never should have been treated like that. I have counted the ones on the back of your legs,” he says, looking away as if he did something wrong.

“But can I count the ones on your back? As I said, you can say no?”

I swallow hard. It’s not like he hasn’t seen my back before or my butt. I chew my lip, considering his request.

“You just want to count them, that’s it?” I ask, my voice wavering yet trusting Gannon.

“That is all, Abbie,” he says, sincerity shining in his eyes. The thought of Mrs. Daley being held accountable for her actions is thrilling, and despite my reservations, I nod.

Gannon taps my thighs, gets up, closes the door, and returns to sit on the bed. Turning around, I unbutton my dress before pulling my arms out and only leaving my waist covered. Gannon pulls me to sit between his legs, and I feel his fingers tracing my skin gently. His touch sends shivers down my spine, and my face flushes when I feel his lips press tenderly against my shoulder.

“Thank you, Abbie,” he whispers, and I turn my face to look at him. He helps me pull my arms back into my dress before turning me. I stand to help. When I button the last one, his hand bunches my dress on my hip as he tugs me closer.

“I promise she will be punished,” he whispers, and I nod. Any punishment was good enough for me. She needed to know the error of her ways, and I wished death upon her. What she let the butcher do would forever haunt me; bruises and lashes heal, yet what he did scarred my mind, and she allowed it. Tainted my dreams and haunted my soul.

“Can you check on the kids?”

“I can try if the king allows it. We will be in a time crunch. The king wants to get back so he can change Ivy and take her as his mate,” he tells me, and I sigh. I would love to know how my Tyson is, but if the king is genuinely going to punish her, maybe that would make her change her ways.

“What’s wrong?” Gannon asks, genuine concern in his voice.

“Nothing, I just worry about the children, especially the younger ones,” I admit. Gannon brushes his knuckles across my cheek, his touch gentle and reassuring.

“Maybe one day I can take you back to see them,” he says, and I smile, hope kindling in my heart.

“Really?” I ask before my smile fades. What if I run into the butcher? Panic begins to rise within me. I can’t go back. What if he takes me, keeps me like he always said he would?

“If that is what you want,” Gannon says, his voice steady and supportive. My skin itches at the thought of the butcher, and I scratch the back of my neck, only for Gannon to capture my hand.

“One day, you will tell me what makes you so nervous,” he says, his eyes searching mine as he kisses my fingers.

“Maybe one day,” I tell him, a soft smile playing on my lips as he tilts his head to the side, observing me. I observe him back when he leans in, and I hold my breath, wondering what he will do when his lips brush mine softly. I gasp at the sensation, and he tugs me closer, yet he doesn’t deepen the kiss or press for more. When he goes to pull away, I gather my courage. It’s just a kiss, I tell myself, trying to remind myself I like Gannon.

So I kiss him back. I feel him smile against my lips before feeling his tongue sweep across my bottom lip, not forcibly. He is seeing if I will invite him in, and I do. My lips part when his hand moves to the nape of my neck. His fingers massage the back of my neck before tangling in my hair. His tongue brushes mine, and his taste overwhelms me as I kiss him back.

When I eventually pull away from him, he sucks on my bottom lip but allows me space, and my face flames at what I let him do. Yet I like kissing him, and he appears to like it, too, because he smiles at me before pecking my cheek.

“I have work to do, but can I come to see you later?” he asks, and I nod, my heart pounding as I wonder if more kissing would be involved. I turn to walk out when he grabs my hand and tugs me back. He nods to my presents.

“Draw me something,” he says, his voice gentle and expectant. I chew the inside of my lip, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. I nod, accepting the gift before rushing out, and I hear him chuckle as I close the door. I race back to my room and shut the door, hearing him leave a few moments later.

As I settle down in my room, I open the gifts Gannon has given me. The art supplies he has chosen are of excellent quality, making me appreciate his thoughtfulness even more. I let my fingers glide over the smooth, cold surface of the sketchpad, feeling the potential of the empty pages, waiting to be filled with my thoughts and emotions.

I take a deep breath and start drawing, something I haven’t done in ages. The world around me fades away, leaving only the scratching sound of the pencil on paper. My hand moves with a life of its own, guided by my heart and memories, and I find myself pouring all of my feelings and experiences onto the paper.

Time seems to stand still as I work on the drawing, completely immersed in the process. It isn’t until I put the finishing touches on the piece that I realize how much time has passed. I take a step back to look at one of my creations, a mix of nervousness and vulnerability fills my chest.

The drawing depicts Gannon and me standing under a tree, our fingers intertwined. The sun filters through the leaves, casting a warm golden light over us. Our expressions convey happiness, and I can’t help but feel a twinge of longing for the future we might have together. But that nagging voice reminds me. I am a rogue; he will see that, turn me away, and toss me aside. Rogues don’t deserve kindness. I’m about to tear the paper up when I hear footsteps approaching my door; I quickly hide the drawing in my sketchpad and turn to face the door. Gannon walks in, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Did you draw something?” he asks, his voice filled with curiosity and excitement. I chew my lip, and he tilts his head to the side. His eyes go to my fingers and the pastels that cover them.

“Will you show me?” he asks.

I hesitate for a moment, feeling vulnerable as I hand him the sketchpad. He flips through the pages until he finds the drawing I just completed. His eyes widen as he takes in the image before him, and I watch as a slow smile spreads across his face.

“This is beautiful, Abbie,” he says softly, his voice filled with emotion.

“Thank you.” He carefully closes the sketchpad and hands it back to me, his eyes never leaving mine.

As we stand there, our hands touching, I can’t help but feel hope and warmth in my heart.