Traded To The Lycan King by MG Wattsons novel Chapter 159

*Kyra*

Warm air brushes over my cheeks, a gentle feeling as if it were a soft kiss barely touching me. I feel strangely relaxed, safe, as I try to force myself to move. My body feels heavy, my eyes aching with a dull pain behind them as I blink them open, my eyebrows knitting together in confusion when I see him.

Hayes lays next to me, his eyes closed as the sun beats down through the leaves of the trees above us. His breathing is even and soft, his gentle breath heating my face as I find myself frozen, transfixed on just how much he has changed. I don’t mean because of his burns, but rather the way his cheek-bones are sharper, his jawline tense and his lips…his lips look more tempting.

I try to turn onto my back, but I find myself trapped beneath his arm over a gray, dingy blanket. His arm lifts just enough for me to squirm and that’s then I realize my arms are stuck inside the massive shirt I have on. My nose scrunches in confusion as I shimmy around, finding the arm holes that are twisted to the sides, before I push my hands through.

“Are you awake or having a seizure?” Hayes’ groggy voice asks and I scoff, looking over at him only to see his eyes are still closed, but there is a quirk of a smile at the corner of his lip.

“Did you get me dressed?” I ask him and he exhales, popping one eyelid open, unamused.

“I did the best I could for someone more limp than a dead snake.”

My mouth falls open, and I lick my lips, smiling even if he is trying to offend me to pick a fight.

“You didn’t think to put my arms through the holes?” I ask him, waving my arms around in their newfound freedom.

“Figured you’d be warmer,” He shrugs.

“You also tucked me in?” I ask, arching a brow, and he frowns before sighing.

“Kyra, you were shivering. What was I supposed to do, let you freeze to death?” He mutters, turning his back to me. I pause, nibbling my lip as I try to figure out how to say thank you.

The words that seem so easy somehow don’t want to come forth the more I remember. I have many more things I want to say: curse words, questions, really snarky comments about his intelligence. But I push it all aside and clear my throat.

“Thank you, Hayes.” I murmur. He turns, looking at me suspiciously over his shoulder.

“What?” He asks, and I roll my eyes.

“You’re going to make me say it again, aren’t you?” I ask him and He lays his head back down, but not before I see a smirk.

“Say what again? You were mumbling, so I couldn’t hear anything.” He lies.

“Thank you for not abandoning me.” I say louder, crawling over to him as I lean over his side to make sure he can hear me. Then I lean into his burned ear. “This time.”

He flinches away, leaving me watching him with wide eyes as he scurries to a standing position, leaving me on my knees. I tilt my head to the side, my mouth tugging down at the corner.

“It’s fine.” He says, clearing his throat as he rubs the back of his neck and looks away. My stomach twists, and I look down at my hands, suddenly feeling uncomfortable, as if I have made a fool of myself.

“We should probably get moving to find the others.” I say, standing. My legs wobble as I find my foot, the world spinning while my eyes close and I find my balance. A soft groan slips out and a gentle pressing at my back makes my eyes snap open.

“Are you okay?” Hayes asks, his voice low and his eyes meeting mine, making my mouth feel dry.

“I’m fine,” I croak, stepping away from him.

“Good.” He says, giving me a quick, half smile before he turns and bends down to gather the blanket. His jeans stretch over his rear end, making it impossible not to stare as I bite back a laugh.

“Hayes?” I say and he hums in confirmation that he is listening. “Where did you find those jeans?”

He turns to face me, tucking the blanket under his arm before crossing them over his chest. Then he arches a curious brow.

“Why do you ask?”

I shake my head, a giggle breaking free as I press my lips together tightly.

“Just curious is all.” I manage to choke out. He rolls his eyes and then looks down.

“Okay, yes, they may be a little tight.” He shrugs. “Do they look bad?”

Do they look bad? I want to bark out a laugh at the absurdity of the question. Burned or not, Hayes is still a fine specimen to look at. Especially in jeans a size too small, riding low on his hips. These jeans are far from bad, though I dare say he may find them annoying on the journey.