Bloodbound to the Lycan King Chapter 144 144

Sothing clicks in my mind. The pattern cos into focus with sudden clarity: Asher is orchestrating everything so that I'm not needed. And he's blocking anyone from getting close to .

Maddox scratches at his cheek, watching them all. "He's just trying to help," he whispers, following my gaze to where Asher is demonstrating how to shuffle cards to Lily. "But you look like you're gonna punch him."

"What? No, I'm enjoying the peace." But the words co out through gritted teeth.

I uncross my arms, not realizing I'd been holding myself so rigidly. I should be grateful. Asher is being attentive, gentle with the kids, helpful around the camper. But it feels smothering, like he's wrapped in cotton and placed in a display case.

The air conditioner cycles off again, the third ti in the last five minutes. I glance at the temperature display—it's dropped outside, and with the sun going down, we're wasting battery power.

"I'll turn off the AC," I announce, standing up. Finally, sothing I can do. "Let's just keep the dehumidifier going and open the windows."

I move toward the control panel, but Asher is there before , dropping the ga imdiately to get in my way. His hand covers the panel, stopping from doing anything. "I'll do it," he says. "You should rest."

"I'm fine," I insist, reaching past him.

Even with my fingers just an inch from his, his hand doesn't budge. "You're exhausted. You need rest."

Sothing in snaps. A rubber band pulled too tight, finally giving way.

"Fine," I mutter, not bothering to hide my irritation. "I'll go take a nap if you insist on playing martyr."

I turn and stalk to Echo's bedroom, feeling his eyes on my back the whole way.

The door clicks shut behind , and I flop onto the bed after opening the windows for a cool breeze and spend the next few minutes glowering at the ceiling. My jaw aches from clenching it so tight. Only after a long exhale does the tension begin to release, my muscles unclenching one by one.

I roll onto my side and pull out my phone. The screen lights up, reminding of sothing odd from earlier—the strange Divinity App. I scroll through my apps until I find it, tapping the icon.

The screen flickers, but the app won't open. I frown, looking more closely at the icon itself. It looks different now—desaturated and dim, as if all the color has been leached from it.

Was it a hallucination? So kind of glitch caused by the storm? I've never seen an app change its appearance before.

My phone vibrates with an incoming text. Echo's na flashes across the screen.

[Echo: We're on our way. Should be there in a few hours.]

Relief floods through . Echo will know what to do about... everything. About Asher's strange behavior, about the storm, about that weird app.

A second ssage appears:

[Echo: Is everything okay now?]

My fingers fly over the keyboard.

[Violet: Yes. We had a weird storm that ssed with electronics but it passed.]

The dots appear, indicating she's typing a response. They stop. Start again. Stop. There's a long pause, and I stare at the screen, waiting.

Finally, a new ssage.

[Echo: I'll be there as soon as I can. Try not to interact with anyone.]

I frown.

[Violet: Too late. We ate with the neighbors. Older couple and a dog. They were here before us, though, so I'm sure they aren't a problem.]

She's typing again, but all that cos through is:

[Echo: …]

Then:

[Echo: If Asher's with you, you're probably fine. But be reclusive. Don't trust anyone right now.]

[Violet: Why? What should I be on guard for?]

No response. The ssages aren't even showing as "read" anymore.

The bedroom door cracks open, and Asher peers in. "You should rest," he says with alpha finality.

I glower at his overhelpful face. "I am resting!"

How much more resting can I get when I haven't even left the bed?

He opens his mouth to reply, but I cut him off: "It's not like I have anything else to do, right?"

The words co out bitter and resentful, but I don't take them back. I'm still grumpy over how he's not letting anyone near . Didn't invite into the ga. Won't even let push buttons on a freaking display.

He's going overboard.

Asher stares at , silent. His expression unreadable. Then slowly, he pulls the door shut again.

Through the thin walls, I hear him tell one of the kids, "Shh. Violet is trying to sleep."

I groan, pressing my palms against my eyes until I see spots. Now I feel horrible for being so ungrateful when he's being the most helpful person ever.

But I don't need a keeper. I don't need to be bubble-wrapped and set aside like so fragile figurine. It isn't as if I don't want him to help—I'm incredibly grateful he's here. What would I do without him around? Even when he was gone to get gas, I was worried and wanted him back.

But his fake family portrayal with the old couple, the way he keeps calling dear and darling, started a strange feeling under my skin. Sothing restless and a little frustrated by the facade he's putting forth.

I'm not even sure how I feel about it. A little happy. No, a lot happy. But also, a lot strange. Especially when he wouldn't let try to figure out this strange situation between us where I can't even touch him.

Maybe he's right. Maybe I do need sleep, and I'll feel normal and balanced and less like so sort of weird crazy woman after I get a little rest…

But every ti I think of how he won't let the kids even touch , I grab a pillow and smack my face into it, trying not to scream.

My entire body stiffens when I feel Asher coming up the steps to this room again. It's impossible not to tell—the entire camper moves whenever soone's walking around.

I jerk the comforter over and do my best to pretend to be asleep.

Steady breathing. I'm calm. Everything's fine and I'm not having a strange ntal and emotional breakdown over soone being too helpful. I'm not.

I'm asleep.

Thankfully, it's dark in here without the light on, so he must not notice when my eyelids keep twitching. Instead, I focus on keeping my breathing deep and even.

Then, slowly, he leans forward and lifts my head off the pillow. Almost imdiately, I feel a surge of energy bursting out of and into him at the contact.

Still pretending to sleep, I try to focus on the feeling, on how it almost feels like I can reach out and touch it—

—and Asher pulls the pillow out from beneath my head.

Then he slides a different one under it and lets go, ending the strange connection between us.

I jerk upright. This man has a strange obsession with pillows. "What are you doing?"

He stiffens. "Nothing. Go back to sleep, Violet."