Page 38

Chapter

Thirty-Eight

A ZALEA

“I may have to prevent you from going without me,” Kyson whispers, his voice barely audible. Relief washes over me as I realize he isn’t angry, but the urgency of my palms remain. “Come on, I need to get changed.”

“I am about to go into town with Liam,” I reply, my words tinged with a hint of hesitation.

“Why? What is it that you want? I can send for it,” Kyson asks, his face buried in my neck. His breath against my skin sends shivers down my spine, while his words stir a whirlwind of emotions within me. My heart races as he picks up on the turmoil within me, and a low purr escapes him as he traces his nose along my neck and jawline, tilting my head up to meet his gaze. I can’t bring myself to lie. Not for Peter, not for myself either. Kyson stares, and even though his scent reeks of whiskey from last night, which should have made me wary, I tell him the truth.

“I need to see Peter’s grandparents. He told me something important, something I need to ask them about,” I confess, my voice filled with a mix of curiosity and guilt at the thought of hiding it from him.

“No!” Kyson growls, cutting me off abruptly.

“Wait. You haven’t even let me explain,” I plead, desperately wanting him to understand.

“I don’t care what Peter said! It won’t change anything. He won’t escape from my wrath, and you won’t alter my decision either! Whatever game he’s playing that has made you curious and guilty, I won’t entertain it. The answer is no, Azalea,” Kyson declares firmly, causing my stomach to sink. I long for answers, for clarity, but Kyson’s refusal feels like a barrier preventing me from achieving peace of mind.

Kyson nudges me towards the door, but I remain rooted in place. “Azzy, please. I don’t want to fight with you, especially when you’ve just come back to me,” Kyson pleads, but I need answers.

“Then don’t make me,” I respond, my voice resolute. Kyson snarls in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose as his eyes squeeze shut. I watch as the hair on his arms bristles, sensing the internal struggle he wages against himself. He battles against the urge to drag me to our room and lock me away, torn between his desire to protect me and his belief that he has no other choice.

“Please,” I plead, my voice softening. I don’t want to defy him, but I need the truth.

“What for? What did he say to you that made you feel sorry for him?” Kyson demands, his tone laced with anger.

“I want answers about his parents. About why he did it,” I reply, desperation seeping into my words.

“He did it because he is a fucking monster!” Kyson screams, his rage echoing through the air as he strikes the nearby bench. The sound of shattering glass punctuates his outburst, and he growls as he stares at his injured hand and the broken bowl beneath it.

“I ask, and you say no. I go, and I get punished for it. You leave me with no choices, Kyson,” I say, my voice tinged with frustration. I reach for a tea towel, wetting it as Kyson extracts the glass shards from his palm. The pain makes him hiss, but I apply pressure, knowing that his healing abilities will mend the wound swiftly when the door bursts open.

“Out! She is fine. I won’t fucking hurt her!” Kyson snarls at whoever just tried to enter before the door creaks shut.

“I need to go, Kyson,” I whisper. Regardless of whether he agrees or not, I am determined to find a way.

“I wake up, and you are bloody gone and you went to the person responsible for killing our baby! So no, I don’t want you running around after him,” Kyson snarls.

I reach for his hand and start cleaning it. The way he says it makes me sound stupid for wanting answers. Kyson watches me and turns his hand over, and I pick another thick shard from the side of his palm.

“I’m fine, leave it,” he snatches his hand away, and I sigh.

He mutters something unintelligible, and as I head towards the back to dispose of the tea towel in the laundry, but he catches my wrist. I turn to face him, finding his jaw clenched, although his grip remains gentle.

“Will you sneak off? Will you go behind my back if I say no?” he asks, his voice laced with concern.

“Don’t ask me questions when you already know the answer. Don’t make me feel like I have to lie to you,” I respond in frustration.

“I want to know why,” he states firmly.

“He said Ester is his mother, and the dagger he used to stab me with was his father’s. I want to know who his father really is,” I explain, hoping he will understand the weight of my curiosity.

“Why does it matter? He’s a monster, and he’s lying. Ester never had a child,” Kyson insists, his voice filled with conviction.

“Are you sure?” I question, hoping to plant a seed of doubt in his mind.

“Even if she did, it changes nothing. He hurt you! He killed our baby! Nothing will stop me from exacting revenge,” Kyson declares vehemently.

“Kyson!” I exclaim, my voice filled with frustration and desperation.

“No! He will pay for what he has done!” Kyson interrupts angrily.

“Then come with me! If you come with me, I won’t have to go behind your back,” I propose as a last-ditch effort, knowing that this moment could lead us down one of two paths. Either he will drag me to our room against my will, or I will go behind his back.

Kyson growls and stares at me intently, but I hold my ground. Why can’t he see that I need this? That I need closure?

“I’ll take you, but we leave if I don’t like what they have to say,” Kyson relents finally. I look up at him, resting my chin on his chest.

“You don’t leave my side. You won’t argue if I say we’re leaving,” he adds, his voice filled with a mix of protectiveness and possessiveness. I bite my lip but nod in agreement, and he dips his head lower, pinching my chin gently.

“And you eat first,” he purrs, his breath caressing my face. “Then I will take you to see them. Just don’t hide things from me.”

“That should go both ways, Kyson. If you don’t want me to hide things, then don’t be a hypocrite and hide things from me,” I retort, asserting my own need for openness and honesty.

“Come then. You can’t go into town in that robe. Were you really planning on wearing it out?” he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“It smells like you,” I admit sheepishly, earning a kiss on the top of my head as he guides me towards the door. We eat hastily, both dressing quickly, and true to his word, Kyson accompanies me into town.

As we approach the old cottage on the edge of the forest, its worn walls covered in ivy, a faint flicker of light dances in the windows, casting eerie shadows. Stepping out of the car, I notice that the door hangs precariously from its hinges, while sounds of banging and crashing emanate from within.

In an instant, Kyson pushes me back into the car, his muscles tense as he prowls towards the cottage. Suddenly, a figure bursts through the doors, his body smeared with blood. Another man follows closely behind, also stained crimson. My breath catches in my throat when I recognize Trey emerging from the house.

“Trey?” Kyson questions, staring at him in disbelief. Ignoring Kyson’s gaze, I step out of the car, my eyes fixed on Trey’s distressed state as he paces back and forth, clutching at his hair. The commotion halts when a woman rushes out, grabbing the older man by the arm. She bears a striking resemblance to Ester, though her youthful appearance belies her true age. Lycan genes have a way of deceiving appearances. The woman clutches her chest upon spotting Liam and Kyson in her driveway.

“What is going on here?” Kyson demands, his voice firm and commanding. The woman’s gaze shifts to Trey, who collapses onto the ground in a defeated heap despite not being injured himself.