His Lost Lycan Luna (Kyson and Ivy)

Book 2. His Found Luna Chapter 47

Kyson POV

As we stepped into the room, Azalea growled as the fresh linens scents overwhelmed her. Trey

rushed into the room behind me, looking alert despite having not slept in two days.

“What is it?” Trey said behind me. I watched as Azalea moved toward the bed, sniffing the air.

“Nothing. Liam had Clarice clean everything in here. It smells wrong to her,” I tell him. Trey sighs.

The only lingering scents were Gannon, Dustin’s, and Peter’s, who must have helped oversee

everything because I forgot Gannon couldn’t come with us because of her command over him.

“Okay, as long as everything is alright,”

“Go to bed, Trey. Try to sleep before the sun comes up. She is safe with me,” I tell him. He nods

and reluctantly leaves. I found his bond to her odd, but now trusted him. I was seeing what an

advantage we had with him. It almost seemed like he could sense. Azalea growls, fixing her den

as she destroys the sheets and makes her nest. She was whimpering at the crisp linen scent. She

raided the closet, trying to find clothes with my scent, and I stepped inside behind her as she

snatched stuff off the hangers.

Tears trekked down her face as she sniffed each piece. They weren’t supposed to touch my stuff. I

hoped they would have left a few pieces, knowing how savage she may become once her nest

was ruined. She tosses them down in frustration and rips more off the hanger, sniffing each one

when I grab her arms.

“Hush, you don’t need my scent when you have me. We can fix it,” tell her when she spins around, her

eyes glowing, and she looks crazed. Her eyes ran over me as she sniffed me and licked her lips. I

groaned in frustration. I liked this suit too! When she looks over me from head to toe, I back away from

her.

“Wait, Azzy. I will take them off, and I will climb in your nest with you. Please don’t-” she pounced on me,

cutting my words off as her claws slipped out. I catch her, my arms slipping around her waist as her legs

lock around my hips. I sigh. Damn it.

Her claws ripped at my clothes, and I purred, trying to calm her frantic instincts as I turned around and

moved toward the bed. My suit jacket she had claimed and my shirt as buttons went flying as she tore it

to shreds.

“I really liked that suit,” I mutter, placing her on the bed as her teeth sink into my chest. As she licked me,

sparks exploded across my skin. I pressed her into the clean linens earning a snarl as she let me go and

rolled, taking my clothes with her. She rearranged them in her nest, duck feathers going everywhere as

she ripped a pillow apart.

Tloved and hated her den; I loved it because she made it, and it made her feel safe, but I hated how my

clothes got destroyed; her possessiveness was amusing until she turned her savage gleam on me. I

clicked my tongue and folded my arms across my chest.

“No, you have my shirt and jacket,’ I tell her or what is left of them. She whimpers, the sound crushing as

she stares at my pants.

“I will lie in your nest until you’re satisfied, but the pants I am keeping,” I tell her, determined to keep

them. She just shredded a suit that cost me a damn fortune. Her bottom lip quivers. Damn, pregnancy

hormones were making her wild. I pull my belt out of the loops, cursing before slipping them down my

legs and stepping out of them. I grab and hold them out to her, and she snatches them, rolling them into

her nest.

She wouldn’t be satisfied. I knew that. My scent was still faint in the sheets, and I moved toward the bed.

I hated seeing her so distraught with instincts she barely understood. She growled at me when I pressed

my hands onto the bed. “Where do you want me, then?” I ask, not wanting to ruin her nest until she had

it the way she preferred. Her breathing becomes harsher. It is dangerous to go into a Lycan den or near

a frantic pregnant Lycans nest. You don’t touch or change it, especially scents not belonging to the mate.

It’s their cocoon of safety, and other scents were intruders.

Azalea grips her hair in frustration. The moment I stepped into the room, instant regret hit me when I

realized how not a speck of our scents was in here. Whoever polished and cleaned it would hear about

it. They know better, and this was now becoming a problem as she suddenly started clawing and ripping

at her clothes, her hair, the lack of our mingled scents and cloying scent of bleach 1 could smell radiating

out of the bathroom sending her mad.

I open the mind link, searching for Dustin, Gannon, and Clarice. They all answer simultaneously, “Yes,

my King.”

Who the fuck cleaned the room and bleached the bathroom?” Clarice gasps, and I know it wouldn’t be

her. She wouldn’t be stupid enough.

“We changed the sheets and removed her clothes and the curtains like you asked, Dustin answered.

“Then why would you wash all of my clothes?” | growl. They could have at least left some of those

“We replaced them with the ones from your office. They were covered in your scent, and we used gloves,

Gannon answers

“Who else was in this room?”

“No one, just us and Peter when he came up to drop food off,”

“So no one else has been on here?” I asked, gripping Azalea’s hands as she pulled her hair out,

“I have some of your clothes here I haven’t washed yet I will bring them up,” Clarice says, slipping from

the link.

“No one else should have been up there. We shut the doors to your quarters after we were done, “Dustin

answers,

“Well, someone has been because all I can smell is chemicals and bleach, and all my clothes in the

closet smell fresh out of the press,” I tell them.

“She alright?”

“What do you think? Someone stripped her entire den. Even the mattress smells like chemicals,” I snarl

before pushing into her nest when she claws her face. I cut the link off abruptly as I press my knee

between her thighs, forcing her onto her back. I pressed my body against hers. My calling slipped out

instantly as I bore my weight on her. Her breathing evens out, and she licks my chest, answering my call.