His Fierce Lycan Luna novel Chapter 17

AZALEA

The absence of footsteps trailing mine acts as both a balm and a burden, the silence calming me and allowing me to think clearly. But I also know my taking off will infuriate Kyson, which as worrisome as that is, I also don’t care. Bursting through the heavy doors that lead to the castle gardens, the hinges groan in protest at my haste. A gust of air greets me, cool and crisp, carrying with it the rich scent of earth and blossoming life. It feels akin to taking that initial deep breath after breaking through the water’s surface when having nearly drowned, the fresh air filling my lungs and dispelling the stifling atmosphere off. My pace slows as I wander down the gravel path, each stone softly crunching beneath my shoes.

I let my fingers trail along the velvety petals of roses as I pass, their blooms a burst of color against the forest backdrop that surrounds this place. Yet even their beauty can’t distract from the frustration I feel. Secrets. They were trying to protect me, perhaps, but protection feels too much like caging.

Drawing in another deep breath, I exhale slowly, letting the tension seep out of my shoulders.

That’s when I feel it—the intrusive touch of Kyson’s thoughts brushing against my mind as he opens the mindlink.

‘Kyson, not now,’ I snap, clenching my fists as I push back against the mindlink.

To my surprise, his presence retreats as swiftly as a wave pulling back from the shore. It feels empowering, knowing I can shove him out with such ease when fueled by anger.

My gaze drifts across the expanse of green, settling on the fruit trees standing in neat rows, their branches heavy with ripe fruit. There is Peter, working alongside the gardener, reaching up to pluck fruits with practiced ease.

As if sensing my presence, Peter glances up, and his face lights up with an excited grin. He waves, his arm cutting through the air with boyish enthusiasm. I return the gesture, feeling a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth despite the turmoil that clouded my thoughts.

“Hey!” he greets, jogging over with an energy that seems to make the very ground beneath him come alive. In a few long strides, he closed the distance between us, enveloping me in a hug that is both unexpected and strangely comforting. “Hey, I haven’t seen you in days,” he says, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes with genuine concern.

“Want to help pick fruit with us?” he asks, and I look around. I want to get as far away from the castle grounds as I am allowed.

“Na. Do you want to go for a walk with me? I am hiding from my guards,” I chuckle. Peter looks over at the gardener, who shrugs and waves him off.

“Where do you want to walk?”

“I don’t know,” I tell him. “We could walk by the river. It is pretty high at the moment from the floods upstream coming down it,” he offers.

“Yeah, I am not fond of water,” I tell him.

“Oh, well, we could go to the stables. I am supposed to clean out the stables today but got hauled up to help pick bloody fruit.”

“Ah, I think I prefer the river walk to shoveling poop,” I tell him, and he chuckles.

“It’s a date then,” he says, looping his arm through mine. We head toward the river. Peter is right. The river is quite high and flowing fast. We sit down on the bank for a bit.

“So, how did you start working here?” I ask him.

“I live with my grandparents, and they used to be servants here and got me the job.”

“Where are your parents?”

“Dad, no idea. My mother dumped me with them when I was born. I see her every now then, but she doesn’t really have much to do with me. She prefers to pretend I don’t exist. I am her dirty little secret,” he tells me.

Well, that sounds a bit harsh.

“And your father?”

He shrugs. “Mum didn’t know his name, or so she claims.”

“What does your mother do?” I ask him.

“Works at the grocery store in town. I usually pretend I don’t have a mother. It’s easier that way.”

“I’m sorry Peter, that sucks,” I tell him.

“All good. My grandparents are good enough for me,” he says, getting to his feet. “I’ll race you back?” he says, offering me his hand. I take it, and he pulls me to my feet.

“Ah, I probably shouldn’t,” I tell him. The last thing I need is to fall over or injure myself. Kyson would never let me leave the room and wrap me in bubble wrap if I did.

“Oh right, that probably isn’t Queenly,” Peter chuckles.

“No, it’s not that,” I tell him, my hand going instinctively to my barely there bump. Peter’s eyes follow my hand and he gasps.

“Wait. Are you pregnant?” he asks, and my face heats and I nod.

“Well, come on. Had I known that, I wouldn’t have made you trek through the forest,” he chuckles.

Suddenly, a blur of movement catches my eye, and the crunching of underbrush signals someone nearby. Trey bursts onto the scene, his body propelled by urgency. He skids to a halt mere inches from us. He clutches his knees, panting heavily, as he raises his eyes to mine. There is a flicker of concern in his gaze that has me confused.

Trey straightens, his chest heaving from the exertion as he fixes his gaze on me, a blend of relief and mild irritation playing across his features. His eyes search mine for a second.

“There you are!” His voice carries a sharp edge, softened only by the undercurrent of worry that seems to thread through the words.

I shuffle my feet, acutely aware of the pulse of life within me, feeling the weight of his unspoken questions. I meet Trey’s intense stare with an attempt at casual indifference.

“Why are you out here?” The query hangs between us.

“We went for a walk,” says Peter, the corners of his eyes crinkling with excitement as he looks up at Trey.

Trey nods, though his expression remains unreadable, as he takes in Peter before looking back at me. “Go on, I will take her back,” Trey says, almost daring me to tell him no. He returns his gaze back to Peter for a second. “Shouldn’t you be in the stables?” His gaze holds Peter’s just long enough to convey the unvoiced command that lingers beneath the surface.

With a playful roll of his eyes, Peter concedes to the silent authority in Trey’s look and rushes off back toward the castle.

Falling into step beside me, Trey grips my elbow gently glancing around like he is worried someone or something will jump out at us and attack at any moment. Leaves crunch underfoot as we make our way along the path that will lead us back toward the looming structure that is both my sanctuary and my cage.

I can feel the weight of the castle’s proximity pressing against me like the air before a storm—oppressive, electric.

The bear’s huff is the only warning before it charges, a freight train of animalistic rage barreling toward us. My scream pierces the stillness of the forest as I involuntarily crumple, arms over my head in a feeble attempt at protection. The weighty hand that had been stifling my cries vanishes, and I tumble backward, an awkward twist sending a jolt of agony through my ankle. Pain slivers up from my foot.

Pushing up on trembling hands, panic, and pain compete for dominance, I catch sight of Trey’s transformation. His body expands, contours shifting into the ferocious form of his malt-colored Lycan. Fur bristles, muscles bulge, and eyes glow fiercely. He meets the bear’s onslaught with a guttural roar, their bodies colliding with brute force.

Claws flash, drawing streams of crimson across Trey’s face as the bear rears high on its hind legs, swiping at him. With teeth bared, Trey lunges, sinking his claws into the thick fur, the beast’s roar vibrates through the air. It fights to regain footing, massive paws slamming down on Trey’s chest with such power, I feel the impact in my own bones.

Blood mists the air, droplets catching the light. The bear drags Trey away from me, his body a streak of color against the brown and green of the woods. They crash into a tree, the sound a sickening crack that echoes through the forest.

As Trey staggers to rise, the bear lunges once more, jaws clamping onto his shoulder. The shaking of its head—merciless and violent—threaten to rend flesh from bone. Trey’s groan of pain is almost human, filled with a strength born of both man and beast.

I want to help, to scream, to do anything but watch as they both fight their lives. But I am pinned, helpless, my own cry dying in my throat as I see the raw savagery unfold before me.

The earth trembles with the force, and I can feel each thunderous impact. My pulse hammers in my ears, nearly drowning the sound of snapping twigs and the hurried footfalls of the approaching guards. Yet despite my own distress, my scream for help is instinctive for Trey’s safety as he lies pinned beneath the massive bear.

“Help him!” The cry tears from my throat, raw and desperate. A fleeting glance over my shoulder reveals figures moving through the trees—a blur of motion. But my attention snaps back to the scene before me as Trey issues a guttural groan.

Beneath the weight of the beast, Trey seems a figure of both despair and indomitable will. His legs, powerful and tense, draw up beneath the bear, finding leverage where none seemed possible. With a surge of strength, he kicks outwards. The motion sends the bear reeling backward, a hulk of fur and fury momentarily forced to retreat.

It lands with an earth-shaking thud, and in that heartbeat of opportunity, Trey pounces. His movements are a blur as he unleashes a barrage of strikes upon the stunned creature. The cub’s return catches Trey’s attention even mid-assault. His head swivels towards the small form.

My breath catches, heart aching for the cub wondering if Trey will be forced to kill it.

But Trey’s hands do not seek the cub. Instead, they rain down upon the mother bear—once, twice, thrice—each hit punctuated by the thud. The fourth strike comes with a sound that is both sickening and merciful: the dull thud of unconsciousness overtaking the beast as it falls to the earth.

Trey stands then, blood paints him, the deep red of his wounds obvious against the malt hues of his Lycan form.

The guards arrive, bursting through the underbrush. Their eyes take in the scene: the fallen bear, the whimpering cub clawing at its mother and Trey, who looks like he bathed in blood. I search their ranks for Gannon and Dustin, but they are absent, their presence replaced by others whose faces blur through the shock and adrenaline.

“Quickly!” someone shouts, urgency laced in every syllable. They know as well as I do that we’re running out of time. As for Trey, his gaze is on me again, assessing the damage done, ready to act despite his own grievous injuries.

Trey’s growl is a guttural warning, reverberating through the clearing as he approaches. He moves with an urgency that contradicts his injuries, his form still imposing despite the blood drenching his fur. The other guards hurry to my side with equal speed.

Together, they attack the rotted log that encases my foot. Wood splinters under their combined strength, and the hollow log cracks, piece by piece. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and the pungent odor of blood and the decay from the wood. Through my groans of pain, I hear a soft whine that cuts through the chaos.

The bear cub, innocent in its confusion, nudges its mother’s unresponsive form. Its tiny nose working over her fur, seeking comfort or perhaps an explanation for the unnatural slumber that had claimed her. My gaze lingers on the small creature, so vulnerable without the protection of its parents.

“It’s knocked out, not dead. We need to move quickly,” Trey’s voice comes to me, low but clear, pulling me back to the present danger.

“That’s why we need to get you out of here before it wakes,” he says, gripping my ankle. I swallow. His green eyes stare back at me and I know what he is about to do.

“Choose my Queen, or I will have to kill it,” he says, and I look at the cub nuzzling its mother. The other guards are standing around in case it wakes.

“Do it!” I tell him, and he yanks my foot off the huge, thick nail that must have been in the tree when it fell and rotted away. My scream is silent before I pass out. My eyes roll into the back of my head and the last thing I see is Trey shifting back before grabbing me and the feel of the wind as he runs toward the castle. Then I saw nothing but darkness.