Bound to the Lycan Twins

Chapter Three

He looks at me, eyes locked on where the guards are still holding me, although way more loosely now.

He lunges. A man that size shouldn't be able to move that fast.

He's close—so close that I can see the freckles on his nose. He smells amazing—all clean and comforting, like pine trees on a cozy winter night with hints of peppermint.

He pries their arms from mine and bends. The crack of breaking bones mixes with their screams.

This all happens quickly. I still stumble on unsteady feet as they go down, but the Lycan king tugs me to his chest.

My wolf had been quiet all day, her essence dimming when Nate rejected me, but now she raises her head.

"Mate."

I gasp. He's my mate. This man is my second chance, mate.

Goddess no. This day literally keeps getting worse and worse. The Lycan king is a heartless person who doesn't let anything stand in the way of what he wants, whether life or morals. How am I mated to him?

But as he cradles me, his scent surrounds me, and all the alarm bells in my head are silent, and I relax. More, please.

He turns toward Nate, who is standing with Jenny clinging to his arm, and says lowly, “I do not like repeating myself.”

“She is a murderer, a cold-blooded murderer!”

“I'll be the judge of that. But what I am sure of is that she's my mate. And you have hurt her.”

“it is what she deserves.”

The Lycan king advances on him and grabs him by the throat, lifting him off the ground. Jenny screams, and Nate begins to claw and choke.

“Please put him down. Please.” Jenny throws herself at his feet and begins to sob. Chuck doesn't even move his head to look down at her.

“I'm so sorry, Vanessa. I really am. Please. Make him stop. He'll apologize, my mate will apologize!“

Me? What can I do? I just met the man.

But he looks behind him and raises his eyebrows. “She is wise to have asked for your mercy, mate, because I have none. What would you like me to do?”

I glance around. Everyone is looking at me. Some are looking at me with anger, some with fear, some with disgust. I worked with these people up until this afternoon. Yes, maybe I wasn't the most social. Maybe I don't go out for drinks with them or have their numbers on my phone. But no one, no one, looks at me with sympathy.

I begin to shake. I don't want to be here. I want just to evaporate, turn into a cloud of smoke.

"Please just leave him alone," I whisper.

For all his grievances, he's their Alpha, and I don't want blood on my hands. I'm not the murderer they say I am.

The Lycan king tosses Nate away, and then he's in front of me. His body sails through the air and lands on top of his SUV. Jenny screams and runs to him. He's in an odd position, and he's not moving.

“You don't look so good.”

Those are the last words I hear before I black out.

*

Chuck's Pov.

Of all the things I expected to find in this pack, a mate wasn't one of them.

But here she is out in my arms. My Nessa.

I've seen her in my dreams; her name's whispered in my head. She smiles, teases, dances, and always slips out of my grasp. I could never hold her in my dreams, never touch her. I'm keeping her now.

The Green Shadow pack is a big one, and it seemed like a good place to start pursuing an alliance with the werewolves.

Until they hurt her, they dared make her bleed.

She has spared their Alpha, but I still have the urge to rip open his throat. I'll leave this pack as soon as possible so I don't go against my mates' wishes.

I look down at her. She isn't tall; I'd say about 5'5. Her red hair is long and getting everywhere, and her soft, round face is beautiful. The rest of her is smooth and round, too.

“Where is your pack doctor?“ I bellow.

Shaky fingers point me in the right direction. I burst into the hospital, the smell of antiseptic sting, but not enough to push away the stench of death that lingers in the air.

“Help her!”

People take one look at me and scramble to do as I say. I'm ushered into a room where I lay her on the bed, the doctor behind us.

The doctor pokes and prods her as I stand at the door, resisting the urge to break his wrists.

“She's fine. She just fainted," the doctor says, taking his hands away from her skin. "She should be awake any minute. I suggest rest and hydration, and in the meantime, I'll clean her knees.”

True to his word, she does wake up a few minutes later as he's attending to her knees.

She opens her eyes so green and hone in on me, wincing.

I've grabbed the doctor by his shirt before I even realize it.

"Continue, " I say, letting him go. In true professionalism he does, a little shaky but doesn't say a word until he finishes and leaves.

She's still looking at me. Our mate's bond right now is tentative. It's threaded softly woven between us until we acknowledge it, but it's there, and it's stealthily increasing my heart rate.

“How are you feeling now?”

“I’m fine.” No, no, she's not, but the color is returning to her plump cheeks. I think she's at least ok for the drive back home.

“Alright then, let's go.”

“What?”

I look at her. Was I confusing just now? I don't like repeating myself, but if she's confused, it can't be helped. “I'm taking you back to the pack.”

“What?” She asks again.

I raise my eyebrows, concerned even though I thought I'd be annoyed. It seems the doctor is wrong. She must have a concussion or something.

“I'll get the doctor to look at you, make sure you're okay to travel, and then when we get back to my pack, I'll have you looked at again.”

“I can't leave with you.”

I pause. Now I'm the one confused. “What?”

“I mean, I will, of course, but not today.”

“Out of the question.”

She looks at me, frowning, making a small crease appear on her forehead. “I haven't packed. I feel so tired, and I haven't said goodbye to my best friend.”

“I'll buy anything you need, you can rest in the car, and you can call this woman on the phone. She can even visit when you're better.”

I walk to her and lift her. She smells lovely, like fragrant vanilla cream under the shade of a cherry blossom tree.

“No, wait, you can't do this. You can't just uproot my life. I don't want to stay, but I, at least, want a moment to breathe.”

“You can breathe at home.”

Maybe I should have stopped and considered it. That's something I don't usually do, but I'm willing to try anything for my mate. But I don't. I gently put her in the car, strap her in, and lock her door even as she fights me.

I slide into the seat, and she bursts into tears. The stress of the day is getting to her. She can let it all out, rest, and talk to me but at home. My skin is crawling, and I don't want to be in a place where that bastard, Nate, exists.

She stops crying and lays her head on the window, looking away from me. I don't like it, but I don't say anything.

I'll look into what's going on in her pack and the accusations against her. That will help her anger towards me, even if she's being entirely unreasonable.