I Bought A Male Escort, Turns Out He's The Lycan King novel Chapter 99

**Leaves Falling Like Promises**
**By Amara Grant**
**Chapter 99**

**KAT**

Somehow, I managed to ascend the porch steps, each movement a reminder of my battered body.

A deep ache coursed through me, more pronounced than when I had shifted, and it felt as if every ounce of strength had been siphoned away. Even without a glance in the mirror, I could envision the marks adorning my skin—deep claw marks, bruises blooming like dark flowers, and cuts that whispered of violence. And Hunter’s scent… My eyelids fluttered shut as I took a deep breath. It enveloped me, saturating my very essence.

With a low groan, I leaned against the wall, summoning whatever strength I could muster. That damn wolf had insisted on this reckless abandon, demanding to be indulged without restraint, yet she had vanished like a wisp of smoke when it was time to heal.

The porch was a chaotic mess—my robe lay discarded, chairs were either overturned or shattered, and splintered pieces of the wooden railing dangled precariously. I couldn’t recall how it had all come to this. My mind was a serene void, blissfully numb.

Dragging my weary feet into the cabin, I froze the moment I shut the door behind me. The familiar aroma of food was absent, replaced instead by Nathan’s earthy pine scent that permeated the air. It mingled with the lingering scent of sex, a reminder of the chaos that had unfolded.

I moved cautiously toward the room I had claimed as my own, pushing the door open slowly, drawn in by the strength of that familiar scent. His belongings were strewn about haphazardly—books lined the shelves, an array of colognes and toiletries cluttered a sideboard, and his clothes were visible in a closet with one door slightly ajar. It was clear I had taken over his space. No wonder his scent was everywhere.

As I stepped inside, my breath caught in my throat. There, sprawled on the bed where I had lost consciousness after my shift, lay Nathan. He was asleep, his bare chest glistening with sweat despite the chill in the air. The sheets only partially concealed his groin, and I could see that one of his hands was tucked beneath the fabric. His face was turned toward the pillow, as if he were cradling it in his sleep.

Heat surged to my cheeks, and I quickly averted my gaze. That explained the scent; he had reacted to my wolf just as any unmated wolf within miles would.

He moaned softly, and I held my breath, glancing back at him. But he remained in the depths of sleep, rolling over to reveal gashes marring his chest. He had been in a fight again, and the wounds appeared fresh—he hadn’t healed yet.

He mumbled something incoherent in his dreams and shifted again. The sheet slipped completely off him, and I instinctively turned away, a wave of revulsion washing over me as I exited the room and closed the door behind me.

My mind finally began to awaken, processing the aftermath of my actions. It replayed the scene of me touching Mathan, kissing him, grinding against him. Nausea surged within me as I opened the next door, which thankfully led to another bedroom. I barely made it to the bathroom before the contents of my stomach surged back up.

What I had done with Nathan was merely instinct, my wolf’s desperate bid to navigate her heat. Yet I felt an overwhelming need to wash away his touch, to cleanse myself of the remnants of that encounter. I stood beneath the spray of the shower until the water turned cold, scrubbing my tender skin with fervor. Eventually, I collapsed onto the bed, letting sleep pull me under.

The enticing aroma of food roused me from my slumber. My stomach growled in protest, and that strange awareness within me unfurled, compelling me to dress and feed myself. I hadn’t brought any clothes with me, but when I opened the closet, it was brimming with women’s clothing, all in my size. Had Nathan prepared this for me? A tightness gripped my chest at the thought of what might have transpired had Nathan not been there. Any wolf could have stumbled upon me, and I would have willingly succumbed to their advances.

Nathan was just placing a platter of meat on the table when I entered the room. He looked refreshed, dressed in a crisp white dress shirt and tailored trousers, his hair neatly brushed back and his face clean-shaven. The exhaustion that had once marked him seemed to have vanished.

When our eyes met across the space, I felt a rush of heat to my cheeks and quickly looked down.

“You’re just in time,” he said, his voice warm and inviting. “Sit. You need to regain your strength.”

Without a word of protest, I obeyed. Nathan filled my plate generously, as if he were aware of the hunger gnawing at me. In fact, I was certain he did. He likely had more experience with women in heat than anyone else.

We ate in silence, the air thick with unspoken words. When I finally pushed my plate away, satisfied, he did the same, and an awkward tension settled between us. What was I supposed to say? “Thank you for not taking advantage of me?” “Thank you for protecting me?”

“We’ve been away for days,” Nathan remarked gently, breaking the silence. “We should head back before your parents declare war on me.”

I looked up sharply, catching the hint of amusement in his tone.

“Did they find this place?” I asked, my heart racing.

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