Bloodbound to the Lycan King

Randall or Raymond or whatever his name is wades into the chaos like Super Nanny, unfazed even when I explain the laundry fiasco to him.

Ten minutes later, the kids are in front of the TV re-watching a movie about a blocky world, Jer is dressed in clean clothes, even if they're a size too large, and Randall-Raymond-Whoever hasn't even said a word about her bunny ears and cat whiskers coming and going.

He acts like this is just a normal Monday, and even politely offers to have someone do the laundry for me. But I shake my head, cognizant of my phone burning a hole in my pocket.

It isn't like the random someone can do my laundry and my mission.

"I'm fine. I'll go on my own."

Randall-Raymond-Whoever frowns. "High Alpha wouldn't be pleased—"

"There's nothing wrong with doing a load of laundry."

"I'm here to keep you safe—"

"The children are our biggest concern."

"If you'll wait a moment, I can call someone—"

"No, thank you." It isn't like the offer isn't tempting, but I don't need some random Lycan breathing down my neck while I try to hunt down a mysterious artifact in the local laundromat.

Seriously; it isn't like I haven't been there before. There's nothing in that building to warrant the label of 'artifact'.

RRW looks hesitant, and I have the feeling he's talking to Caine from inside his head.

In the wise words of someone, somewhere, sometime, it's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. So I paste on my sunniest smile and clap my hands at the kids.

"Be super nice to Mr. Raymond while I'm gone, okay?"

The Lycan clears his throat. "It's Randy, ma'am."

"Oh. I'm sorry, Randall." My apology is sincere, though my attention is a little spotty as I haul the straps of the first backpack over my shoulders. There are two more, all stuffed to their zippers' max capacities.

"Randy." He sounds especially polite as he corrects me again, and I pause for a second.

"Right. Randy. Sorry again."

"It's fine, ma'am."

My smile feels plastic as I call out, "Kids, be nice to Mr. Randy. I'll be back in a little while with clean clothes."

Jer spins around from the TV, his dark curls bouncing as he pins me with a particularly intense stare. "You'll remember to wash my underwear, right?"

"Of course." Does he think they're kept separately from the other laundry?

"Cool." He turns back to the blocky movie without another word.

Sara, on the other hand, looks at Randy with caution, her red eyes slightly narrowed. "Is he going to kill us if you leave?"

"Of course not." My jaw would drop, but I'm already a little used to her doomsday scenarios when it comes to the Lycans. I'm surprised she isn't clutching her metaphorical pearls and moaning about being doomed like she did when Caine came around.

Then again, Randy's just a Lycan, not the Lycan King.

"Hmm. Okay then." She doesn't sound convinced at all, her freckles scrunching up as she eyes Randy like he's planning to cook them for dinner.

Jer snorts, not moving his attention from the TV. "Don't worry. Caine will flatten him like a pancake if he hurts us. He's our dad, remember?"

"Uh-huh," she says, clearly unconvinced by this ridiculous family cosplay we've got going.

Randy coughs lightly. "I'm your bodyguard. It's my job to do the flattening."

"See?" Jer nods vigorously. "Like a pancake."

My presence is no longer necessary, so I slip toward the door while they're distracted, grabbing the last two laundry-laden backpacks. Right when I make it down the steps and turn to close the door, Sadie bounds past me, tongue lolling happily, followed by the giant white cat.

"Go back inside!" I hiss, trying to shoo them back up the stairs by swinging the two backpacks in my hands.

The animals dance around, just beyond my reach. My shoulders already ache from the weight of the backpack. I haven't even started walking yet.

Randy appears at the top of the stairs, looking concerned. "Miss Harper, I think you should wait while I call someone over to drive you there."

"I'm fine," I say hastily. No way am I waiting around for some chauffeur to hover over me during my magical artifact hunt, and I'm more than a little displeased over the entire existence of this app for not only having me turn down protection, but a ride I'm crazy to refuse. "Really. I… need the exercise."

Wow.

Lamest excuse ever.

Who exercises by taking three overstuffed backpacks of laundry on a one-mile walk?

Giving up on my excuses and on corralling the animals, I start walking, glancing over my shoulder to see if Randy's closed the door yet.

He hasn't.

He watches me with a worried frown, and now I'm absolutely positive he's tattling on me to Caine.

Sadie and the cat follow behind me like I've been training them for years as I set off down the street. The laundromat is about a mile away.

If I make it there.

I must look like some bizarre Disney princess with my animal entourage—if Disney princesses wore jeans a size too small and borrowed t-shirts.

"You two are the worst," I mutter. "I hope you know that."

Sadie wags her tail as she picks up her pace to trot beside me. I can't see the cat since it's behind me, but I'm sure it probably looks smug. Cats always do.

The midday sun beats down on us as we walk. Blue Mountain territory looks exactly as I remember it, and it makes my heart feel a little sweet and sour. Bad or good, these are memories of an entire six years of my life. It wasn't all terrible, so it's hard to cut all emotional ties to this place.

But I definitely don't feel the urge to stay here. No way.

Once these missions are done, I'm leaving. Though I should probably ask Caine why the Lycans are still here and how long he needs to stay…

We haven't really discussed the future properly. We've somehow agreed to co-parent a bunch of adopted children together, but what about the logistics? Where are we going to live? How is this going to work?

My head hurts just thinking about it.

Or from this horrible "exercise" I've cornered myself into.