Page 76 of Mated To The King's Gamma
I press closer to him, breathing in his scent.
I remember Gannon’s arms around me when I first came back, how they felt like iron bands forged from relief and grief. He held me so tightly I thought he might accidentally break me again, but I didn’t mind. After the cold emptiness of death, the crushing heat of his desperation felt like the sun after an endless winter. I clung to him just as fiercely, my fingers digging into his arm as if I could somehow anchor myself to this world through him alone.
Four days have passed since then. Fours days of Gannon watching me with wary hope. Four days of Tyson climbing carefully into my lap, patting my face with his small hands as if checking that I’m really here. Four days of feeling my body heal in ways that should be impossible.
I am scared, still. But it’s not the same fear that used to wake me screaming, or the terror that paralyzed me when Kade’s violence turned toward me. Now, I’m scared because I have something to lose. A life. A future. A son who needs me. A mate who loves me despite my scars and flaws.
Gannon says I’ll shift soon. That it takes a few days. Cedric told them it’s normal—healing first, then the change. My body still feels sore in places I can’t explain—phantom pains beneath healed skin, aches in bones that should be whole. My senses sharpen by the hour; the crackling fire is almost too loud, the scent of pine and my mate almost overwhelming. My balance shifts unexpectedly, making me stumble when I stand too quickly, as if my center of gravity recalibrates for something new.
But it’s the idea of shifting that grips my stomach with cold dread.
I thought I was dying the first time I shifted into a werewolf. No—I wanted to die. The memory rises, vivid enough to make my breath catch.
Bones cracking like twigs. My skin stretching, splitting, betraying me. Pain—not sharp and clean like a knife wound, but deep and primal, rearranging everything I thought I was. I screamed until my voice shattered, until human vocal cords twisted into something else, until the scream became a howl I didn’t recognize as my own.
It was agony beyond bearing, beyond sanity. My mind trapped inside a monster I couldn’t control. My thoughts scrambling for purchase as instinct overwhelmed reason. The feeling of fur erupting through skin, of joints reversing direction, of teeth extending painfully in gums never meant to hold them.
“You’re thinking about it again,” Gannon says, interrupting the memory. His thumb traces circles on my shoulder, gentle and grounding.
I nod against his chest. “I’m afraid.”
“It won’t be like before,” he promises. I want to believe him. But the memory of that first shift sits heavy in my chest, a trauma as real as any scar.
“What if I lose myself? What if I hurt Tyson?” I whisper, remembering how I carved up Azalea without knowing. I had no control of that first shift, all instinct and nothing more. “What if I don’t come back?” I worry knowing their Lycan sides are more savage, same entity, one vessel I’m meant to share but I’ve seen plenty of Lycans here and they can be savages. What if I can’t shift back? What if I am stuck in that state?
Gannon’s hand finds mine, our fingers intertwining. The contact sends a current through me, warmth and strength flowing from his skin to mine. Not just comfort, but something deeper.
“You won’t get lost,” he says with quiet certainty. “And if you do, I’ll find you. Every time. Now try to sleep love, you should sleep.” Gannon whispers, tucking me closer. I sigh and sink into his warmth, soaking up his scent.
Something inside me breaks. It starts deep beneath my ribs: a snap, a tremor, a quake in the marrow. And I know. It’s starting. The shift is coming, and I can do nothing to stop it.
I jolt upright in the tent, chest heaving. Sweat beads across my skin despite the night chill. Beside me, Tyson sleeps, one small hand flung across his face, his breathing steady. Gannon’s arm lies heavy across my waist, a warm weight that suddenly feels like a chain. I can’t be here. I can’t let them see this.
Another tremor ripples through me, and I bite down on my lip until I taste blood. Sweet, metallic—different somehow. Richer. My teeth feel too large for my mouth.
I can’t scare our son. I can’t let Tyson see me become a monster.
My breath comes too fast, too shallow, as I carefully lift Gannon’s arm from my waist. The skin along my spine prickles, heat building beneath the surface.
I slide away from them, my movements jerky and uncoordinated. My vision pulses, sharpening and blurring in waves that leave me dizzy. The tent’s canvas walls seem to breathe around me, expanding and contracting with my racing heartbeat.
My skin is on fire—burning, crawling with heat that makes me want to tear it off. Desperate fingers rake across my arms, leaving welts that fade almost instantly. My bones feel liquid and solid at once, pressing against tissue that no longer wants to contain them.
I hear Gannon stir behind me, the rustle of blankets as his hand reaches for the empty space where I should be.
“Abbie?” His voice is rough with sleep but already sharpening with concern.
I can’t answer. My throat constricts around words that won’t form. A sound escapes instead—halfway between whimper and growl, unfamiliar even to my own ears.
“I—I can’t—don’t—” I choke on the panic rising. My fingers scrabble at the tent flap, clumsily. I have to get out. Have to get away so I don’t hurt them.
The canvas gives way, and I fling myself into the night air. It hits my fevered skin like ice but brings no relief. The campsite spreads before me, a circle of tents around smoldering bonfires. A few guards stand watch, their heads turning in my direction.
Another spasm racks my body, stronger this time. My legs buckle, and the ground rushes up to meet me. Dirt and pine needles press into my palms as I collapse to all fours, hair hanging around my face like a curtain.
Pain lashes up my spine in electric waves—my vision tunnels, darkening at the edges. Someone approaches—cautious, wary. Through the veil of my hair, I see boots and recognize them. Liam.
He stands slowly, already reading my body and seeing what will happen.
