Read His Lost Lycan Luna by Jessica Hall Chapter 76 – Kyson POV
Ivy was driving me up the wall; I couldn’t even kick the d**n door down because I didn’t know if she was directly behind it or not. All night I waited, and d**n did she test my patience as I swallowed down the amber liquid, letting it scorch the back of my throat while I glared at the door.
Moving off the bed and away from my stare off with the closet door separating me from her. I meandered toward the small bar area in the corner, growling and muttering under my breath as l poured the last remnants from the bottle into my glass.
Her discomfort was beginning to make me nervous, her scent growing stronger as it permeated from under the door. Grabbing my glass, I moved back toward the bed, pausing for a second by the bookshelf. My eyes moved over the shelf before spotting the book we were reading before everything turned to s**t. Moving the small jewelry box off the shelf, I accidentally dropped it, the lid cracking open, and the music started playing. Bending down, I scooped the small box off the ground when I noticed an engraving on the side of it. The inscription was only small in the back corner of the small box.
Azalea. I. Landenna.
Love Mum & Dad.
My brows furrowed, and I glanced over at the door. Ivy and Azalea shared the same birthday. Shaking my head, I place the box before looking back at the door and grabbing the book off the shelf before moving to sit by the door. I opened it up to where the ribbon lay between the pages before reading aloud. Her growls and snarls quietened, and after about 5 minutes, I heard her move within the confines of her closet.
I knew she was cozy, yet I could also sense her discomfort at being there. It was a weird sensation to feel from her. Almost as if it was her safe place but also a place that tormented her. Her emotions fluctuated between peace and panic, and I knew she was claustrophobic. Had witnessed her distress not only through the bond when she nested last time but also seen it for myself. Yet as much as she hated the closet. It was almost as if she was scared of the outside world past the door.
All noises stopped inside the closet, and I could hear her heart pounding as she drew nearer to listen to the words I spoke. My purr reverberated around the room, echoing off the walls as I called her to come to me. Her anger and fear amplified as she fought a war within herself. Fighting against my calling for her, I toned it down a little, giving her the choice to fight it or answer it, yet still encouraging her to come to me. However, reading simultaneously was also a little tricky trying to maintain both tasks. Coughing, I took a sip of my drink before resting my head back against the wall.
“If you come out, I will read to you,” I told her. She didn’t answer straight away. When she did, it wasn’t the answer I was hoping for.
“No, you will use the bond against me,” she growled.
“You are my bond Ivy,” I tell her, turning my head to look at the door handle. I twisted it, but she still hadn’t unlocked it.
“Don’t you want the bond?” I asked her, wondering how she could fight so hard against it, refuse me when I was hers as much as she was mine.
“You broke it,” she said, and the sadness through the bond stung me.
“And I am trying to fix it,” I replied, closing my eyes as I leaned my head back.
“It wasn’t just yours to break,” she stated.
“And I said I am trying to fix it,” I repeated.
“And what if I don’t want you to?”
“It’s not up to you, I told you already. You are mine; I meant that Ivy, I won’t let you go again,” I told her, becoming annoyed that she dared challenge our bond. I didn’t understand what she wanted. She wanted the bond. I broke it, and now I am trying to fix it. What more does she want from me? I can’t go back and take it back.
“Until you find something else to hate me for. Or I do something you don’t like, then you will cast me aside because you can, and there is nothing I can do about it,” she murmured.
“You hurt me,” she whispered so softly I nearly missed it.
“I didn’t mean to break your hand Ivy, I didn’t know it was there,” I snapped at her; I b****y healed it, for g*d sake.
“I’m not talking about my hand, Kyson. I know you didn’t do that on purpose.” I growled, annoyed, shaking my head.
“You think broken bones hurt, scratches, wounds that refuse to heal for months on end. They hurt, but they also mend when the skin closes over. After you’re left with a scar, a distant memory of what was once painful. Yet that hurt ends,” she pauses, and I pick up my glass, draining the last of it about to break the handle and drag her out, tired of playing these games of hide and seek. Standing, I went to grab the handle when she spoke again.
“Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to allow yourself to trust someone, only for them to throw it in your face?” I paused, wondering what she was on about now.
“Are you going to finish, or are you going to make me guess?” I asked her, gripping the door handle; the metal creased as my grip tightened around the brass k**b.
“I trusted you; I allowed myself to love you despite knowing better than to get my hopes up. Mrs. Daley taught me to know my place, and you made me believe I could find that with you. That I was free to choose that place. Freedom. My version of freedom for years was d***h. I was ready to d*e on that podium that day, be set free. Convinced it would be better than the life handed to us. Then you showed me another sort of freedom,” I paused, letting go of the door handle. My fingers creased into the metal as I stared at the door.
“I realized I was never living. We were already d**d waiting for our vessels to d*e, and you gave us our names back, our lives back, for a while anyway. Then just as quickly as you gave it to me, you took it away. The ultimate puppet master with a g*d complex I can’t compete against. You took it, and I wished for freedom again. I wished you left me to d*e that day; it would have been the more humane thing to do than give me hope only to show me how foolish it was to have it in the first place.” My heart twisted painfully in my chest as I felt the truth behind the words she spoke.
“Now that is pain, and nothing haunts me more than knowing you have the power to send me back to a place when the only freedom I will long for is d***h,” I bit my tongue and swallowed, feeling guilty.
“I made a mistake. I blamed you because you were there to blame, not because you did anything wrong. I see that now,” I tell her.
“I get why you hate me Kyson; I am the by-product, the spinoff version of my mother-“
“You are not your mother,” I tell her cutting her words off. That much, I was sure of. Ivy laughs, and my brows furrow.
“My mother was a monster. Therefore I am,”
“No, you were just her last victim, only you survived to live with what she took from you” I tell her. She falls quiet. Yet I meant the words I spoke and wished she could feel me the way I feel her guilt and heartbreak.
“You have your freedom with me, Ivy,” I tell her.
“Prove it,” she murmured. I sighed, wanting her to come out, to stop ignoring me because it was driving me insane. Ignoring my own instincts to drag her out, kicking and screaming and forcing her to submit to the bond.
I sat back down and let her be, instead, picking up the book and continuing to read to her. She fell quiet, and after a few chapters, I heard the door unlock, making me look at it before the handle twisted. Her scent wafted to me as the door cracked open, and before I could muffle it. The calling slipped out, my purr resounding yet not forcing her, leaving her choice, just enough to coax her out if she chooses. Letting her know I mean no harm, so I let it be instead of stifling the sound. I heard her bones cracking from lying on the hard ground and felt the ache to go to the comfy bed.
Glancing up at her, she had an armful of my clothes, her werewolf side reappearing stronger no matter how much she fought against it. At least she had changed out of the wet clothes and was now wearing one of my shirts. The bond was reforging and solidifying despite her attempts to ignore it. “You can take them to the bed, or you could let me sleep next to you,” I tell her, and she walks partway to the bed before stopping and glancing between the bed and me like she was fighting against what she knew she needed and wanted. Her urges are all over the place. I remained still as much as it k****d me to do.
“You won’t use the calling on me, I mean no more than you are now?” she asked, and I could feel her uncertainty. Yet she hated the calling as much as she liked it.
“No, but I can’t help it sometimes. It reacts to your emotions,” I tell her. Ivy chews her lip and nods once before moving toward the bed again. She climbs in, dragging my pile of clothes with her to burrow down in. I sighed before turning the next page, expecting to sleep on the couch when she spoke.
“You can sleep in the bed,” she said, and my eyes fitted to hers. My eyes flickered, and I heard her heart rate pick up. My skin rippled as I stood, my instincts becoming excited that she was letting me near as I moved toward the bed before crawling in beside her and reopening the book. Ivy moved closer, her claws scraping down my ribs as she wiggled closer to see the tiny pictures in the corners of the pages. Fighting the urge to drag her on top of me, I continued reading content enough with her beside me.