The Lycan King's Healer
The Lycan King’s Healer – Chapter 59

Aldrich’s arm was hooked around me before I could breathe. He scooped me up like I was a child, gripping me to his chest as he ran for cover. I gasped as I looked around, trying to replace the assailant or where the arrow even came from in the first place.

About a couple yards away, there was a small shed that stored extra weapons and auxiliary. He sprinted toward it with me as his baggage, and I was shocked at the fact he was able to move so fast despite carrying me, like I weighed nothing more than a pound. He was even stronger than I thought. My gaze still shot around the field in a panic, but I did not see even a retreating silhouette.

The shed was locked; he simply kicked the lock of the door broken with his brutal force before rushing us inside, swinging the door closed behind us. We were both breathing heavily, and he released me from his arms before pushing down on my back to make me huddle close to the ground.

The only sound in the small, dark space was our breathing and the pattering of the rain against the wood of the shed. My hair was dripping through my clothes, and I didn’t realize until then that I was shivering.

He walked over and scanned the inventory of weapons before choosing a machete. Out of seemingly anger, he took one of the daggers and threw it to the ground in a fit. His hair was wet and his stance was pained as he eventually sighed, turning back toward me with the weapon in hand.

“Stay in here,” he commanded before grabbing the handle of the door.

“No!” I cried out, launching toward him. He pushed me back down to the floor, gently. “Aldrich. Don’t go out there.”

“Why should I listen to you?” he asked bitterly.

“Because I didn’t cheat on you!” I demanded, catching my breah, “and even if I did, I wouldn’t just watch you blatantly commit suicide by going out there. As an army general, I would theoize you as smarter than going into an open field with a weapon that doesn’t shoot.”

He sighed, dropping his hand.

“Unless you’d rather die than be with me right now,” I sneered, sitting up straight with my knees tucked into my chest.

“Your eyes always gave you away,” Aldrich spit out, shaking his head, “there was nothing but guilt in them.”

“It wasn’t guilt for cheating on you,” I snapped, still appalled at the fact I had to assure him of that at all.

“So you don’t feel guilty?” he challenged, jutting his chin out at me. It was the first time he looked at me in nearly a week.

“I do feel guilt,” I admitted slowly, “but not for something I didn’t do.”

He looked so furiously confused, I wouldn’t have blamed him if he used the machete on me at that moment.

“Listen,” I urged, shivering, “The man you saw me with was my teacher, Clement. I have known him for years. He taught me everything I know about being a healer and…it was his b***d that saved Alan,” I admitted while staring up at him. He didn’t react. “We have had a strictly teacher-student relationship. I snuck out with him that night to tend to the sick homeless people who are experiencing a deadly virus right now. We healed them with our b***d and potions.”

He considered it for a minute before glaring at me with the same doubt Alan did, except amplified. “I’ve never seen a teacher spend so much time with a student.”

“We’ve been working around the clock nonstop looking for an antidote for you,” I snapped, and now it was my turn to glare.

This startled him briefly, but that expression was swiftly replaced with defensiveness. “Am I supposed to thank you? I never asked you to slave away with another man to replace the antidote. I could have helped you with that.”

“No, you couldn’t have,” I demanded, standing up from the ground in outrage, “I couldn’t even do it myself. He is the only way we’ll replace it, and even with his help, I’m struggling.” My voice broke at that, the knot in my throat unable to be contained.

“Cathy,” he muttered while shaking his head. I reveled in the sound of him saying my name, despite my anger. I wanted to feel him against me again, thread my fingers in his long golden brown hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my condition earlier. But I am a territorial man” he admitted, “I don’t want another man helping you rather than me. It hurts my ego, my pride, and honestly my f*****g feelings.” He cracked a reluctant smile at that. “I don’t know if I could forgive this.”

“Then how am I supposed to help you? If you love me, why can’t you just forgive me?” I demanded hysterically, and I realized it was the first time I was using his love for me against him. Tears spilled out and ribboned down my cheeks.

He sighed, staring at the machete a little too intently, like he was avoiding looking at me. I could sense the gears in his brain grinding together for an answer, and whatever it was, it would be final. Whatever he decides here and now was our fate. It was either we were leaving this shed lovers again, or I was leaving the estate for good.

“You can’t do this,” I demanded while shaking my head vigorously, stepping closer to him. “I won’t let you do this. I’ve done nothing but try to help. You can’t do this.” I don’t know how many times I repeated “you can’t do this” but it was enough to make me even drown myself out. Eventually, my pleas became louder and angrier, and I was in his face yelling fiercely, “You can’t do this!”

He stopped me by suddenly wrapping his hand around my throat, squeezing the sides lightly. I gasped, looking up at him through my wet eyelashes in half anger, half delight.

“Fine,” he growled, pressing his face against mine. I felt his hot breath on me, reveling in the lavender and sandalwood clinging to him. “You want to know how you can make me forgive you?” he challenged in a husky voice.

I flared my nostrils at him as his grip increasingly became tighter around my throat, never breaking eye contact. “What do you think?” I mocked daringly.

He backed me against the wall of the shed, growling under his breath. I gasped as my spine hit the wall, sending electric shocks of pleasure to my core. I still never broke eye contact with him, challenging him.

“The only way I’ll forgive you,” he drawled ominously, pressing his hard body against mine, “is if you give me another child.”

I didn’t even hesitate before crashing my lips to his.