Babysitting The Amnesiac Lycan King novel Chapter 8

Chapter 8 

Oh Goddess… 

The tub looks too small for him, and I almost laugh at the thought of him cramming into it which would make him look like a grown man in a kiddie pool. 

But then Enoch turns his head toward me, his hair sticking to his forehead, damp and disheveled, and all I can think is why does he have to look so damn perfect while being so clueless? 

“Alright.” I mutter, snapping myself out of it. “Let’s get this over with? 

Enoch blinks at me, his green eyes wide and curious, like he’s waiting for instructions. Of course, he is. He doesn’t even know how to bathe himself. 

I roll up my sleeves and grab the stool from the corner, setting it beside the tub. “Okay now get inside,” I say, pointing to the edge of the tub. 

He blinks at me, his green eyes steady lat confused. His lips part slightly, and for a second, I think he’s going to argue–then I remember he doesn’t really know how. 

“Inside,” I repeat, sharper this time. 

Finally, he lowers himself onto the edge, his legs sprawling wide, his knees still higher than the rim of the tub. 

I don’t know how many times I’ve thanked the Goddess he didn’t take his pants off. I wouldn’t have been able to suppress myself looking. 

Great, what a fucking pervert you’ve become Taryn. In a short amount of time too. 

I swallow hard and focus on rolling up my sleeves. 

I’m not going to think about how the sheer size of him makes this bathroom feel cramped. Or how his skin gleams faintly under the dim light, smooth, inked, and dangerously waking parts of me that have remained dormant since my entire life. 

Fuck. get it together, Taryn! 

I grab a bar of soap, wetting it under the faucet, and start with his arms. His muscles shift under my touch, solid and unyielding, as though steel wrapped in silk. 

How is someone so burly have skin this soft? 

However, I slowly move to his palms where the softness of his skin ends. 

His hands are filled with battle scars and callouses which wouldn’t actually shock me considering he’s a rogue who might. have wandered the unclaimed lands to survive. 

“Your hands,” I mutter, scrubbing the soap over his calloused palms. “They feel like you’ve been breaking bricks for fun.” 

He doesn’t respond, but his eyes follow my every move, unblinking and studying me. 

“It’s weird, you know,” I add, rinsing the soap off his arms. “How you look like this but can’t even bathe yourself. What were you before this?” 

Nothing. Not even a flicker of recognition in those green eyes. 

I sigh and grab the shampoo, working it into his hair. It’s softer than I expected, slipping through my fingers like strands of silk 

1/5 

Sat, 15 Mar 

Chapter 8 

The lavender scent from the soap fills the air, and for a moment, I forget how strange this situation is. 

“You smell like a field of flowers.” I murmur, almost to myself. “Not what I’d expect from a rogue” 

Enoch tilts his head slightly, his lips quirking into the smallest umile. 

“Good?” He asks, those forest green eyes once again looking straight into my soul. 

As if he can read entirely all the vulgar thoughts I have of him. 

BO% 

“Don‘).” I warn, rinsing the suck out of his hair. “Don’t do that. Don’t look at me like you’ve got some kind of inside joke. I’m not in the mood.” 

He doesn’t say anything, of course, but the smile doesn’t fade. 

When I move to scrub his shoulders, my eyes catch on the tattoo just above his heart. It’s a lily, the petals delicate and detailed, curling like they’re caught in a breeze. 

“A lily?” I snort, tracing the edge of the ink with the soap. “What does this mean?” 

Enoch’s eyes flick to mine, his expression still blank but somehow amused. 

Right, as if he’d remember. 

I shake my head, focusing on the task at hand. His back is broad and scarred, the muscles shifting under my fingers as I scrub. 

www 

I’m so absorbed in my work that I don’t notice his movement until his arms wrap around my waist, and his head rests against my thighs. 

I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. 

“Good,” he growls, the word vibrating against my skin. 

A shiver runs through me, and I hate that my first instinct isn’t to shove him off. Instead, my heart races, and my face burns. and my brain decides to betray me by veering straight into dangerous territory. 

I could feel my cunt pulsating with his breath so close to it, with only a thin fabric of my uniform separates us being entirely skin–to–skin. 

“You can’t just—” I stammer, tugging at his arms. “Enoch, let go. I’m trying to finish.” 

He doesn’t budge, but he just presses his face more against my leg like a giant, fucking needy puppy. 

“Good,” he growls again, softer this time, his voice low and gravelly. 

I groan, both flustered and exasperated. “Fine, but this is the last time I’m doing this for you. Next time, you’re on your own 

bath” 

He tilts his head up, looking at me with wide, almost innocent eyes, and I feel a pang of guilt. 

By the time I’m done, my nerves are shot, and 1 can’t get out of the bathroom fast enough. I thrust a towel into his hands. “Dry yourself off,” I say, my voice sharp and unsteady. 

As soon as the door closes behind me, I lean against it, trying to calm my racing heart. My face is hot, and my thoughts are a 

mess 

From inside the bathroom, I hear Enoch hum softly to himself, the sound low and content 

2/5 

Chapter 8 

Great. He’s fine. Meanwhile, I’m on the verge of a breakdown 

Okay. Taryn, now move on to his clothes. 

I shake off the lingering heat crawling up my spine and drop to my knees beside the bed, reaching for the dusty box shoved underneath. The thing feels heavier than I remember, though maybe that’s just the weight of my part stupidity. 

The box in my hands feels like it’s made of lead. It’s ridiculous how something so small can drag so many shitty memories to the surface. I sit cross–legged on the floor, flipping throughs my past mistakes disguised as thoughtful gifts 

The leather bracelet. The sleek, minimalistic watch. The customs cufflinks Each piece an attempt to prove I was worth his time, his affection. And each piece brushed aside with a dismissive comment that still echoes in my mind. 

“You know I can’t wear that around, he’d said once, holding up the leather wristband I thought he’d love. “It would ruin my reputation” 

Another time, it was. “Seraphina already got me one just like it. You should’ve asked me first.” 

I hadn’t realized back then how much Seraphina had been keeping tabs on me, swooping in to buy things first just to keep me from making him happy. I was too blinded by the idea that I could fix us, too desperate to be enough. 

Now, looking at this box, all I feel is embarrassment. And maybe a little pity–for myself, for thinking he deserved any of it 

“Pathetic,” I mutter under my breath, tossing the last item back into the box. 

But then my eyes land on the white button–up I’d saved up for weeks to buy. It’s still crisp and clean, tags dangling like a taunt. He never even tried it on. Said it wasn’t “his style.” 

“Well,” I mutter to myself, standing up and brushing the dust off, “it’s someone else’s style now.” 

I march to the bathroom and crack the door open just enough to shove the shirt through. “Here. Wear this.” 

There’s a pause, then a soft shuffle of feet before the fabric is taken from my hand. 

When Enoch steps out, I have to blink a few times to process what I’m seeing. 

The shirt is tight. Like, distractingly tight. The buttons look like they’re plotting their escape, and the sleeves cling to his biceps in a way that makes me question every life choice that led to this moment. 

“Shit,” I mumble, rubbing the back of my neck. “Now that’s… a look.” 

He tilts his head, his brows furrowing. “Bad?” 

“No, no,” I say quickly, waving my hands. “Not bad. Just… snug–super snug.” 

He frowns like he’s trying to figure out if snug is an insult. 

I step forward, patting his head more out of habit than anything. “Good job taking a bath. One step closer to being a functioning human.” 

He closes his eyes at the contact, leaning into my hand like a giant dog. 

“Okay,” I say quickly, pulling my hand back before I start thinking about how soft his hair feels when I pull it in the bedroom. “Come on. You’re helping me today. Gamma Abel didn’t give you a pass inside Riverstone Pack to sit around looking clueless.” 

We’re halfway down the hall when the temperature seems to drop. 

Kallias is standing there, Seraphina hanging onto harm like a designer purse. Her voice is a high–pitched hum of 

3/5 

Sat, 15 Mar 

Chapter 8 

nonsense, he’s not even pretending to listen to. 

His eyes are locked on me–and more specifically, on Enoch. 

I stop, bowing slightly out of habit. “Alpha’s son,” I say respectfully. 

Kallias’s jaw tightens. “You don’t need to bow, Taryn. You never have.” 

I straighten, keeping my face neutral. “We’re not together anymore. It’s only right to show respect now,” 

Something flashes in his eyes–anger, maybe, or frustration. I don’t stick around to figure it out. 

His nostrils flare, his gaze flicking to Enoch, who is standing tall and unbothered There’s something unnerving and predatory about the way he stares back, like he’s trying to decide if Kallias is worth acknowledging. 

Which would be funny because Kallias is the Alpha’s son and Enoch is just a rogue… right? 

1 nudge Enoch with my elbow, hissing, “Bow.” 

Enoch doesn’t budge. He lowers his eyes a fraction, but it’s more of a calculated observation than submission 

I don’t think he has ever bowed down to anyone. Ever. 

His gaze shifts to Enoch’s shirt, recognition flickering across his face. 

“Wasn’t that mine?” Kallias asks, his voice sharp. 

I raise an eyebrow, feigning ignorance. “Yours!” 

“The shirt,” he snaps. “Don’t act like you don’t know.” 

“Oh.” I say, tilting my head innocently. “No. Sir Kallias didn’t want it, right? Something about it being too ‘pedestrian,” -remember?” 

His jaw ticks, but I’m not done. 

“And,” I add, my gaze sliding to Seraphina whose eyes widened. She fucking knows what I’m talking about. 

*-the future Luna bought you something just like it, didn’t she? So, I gave it to my boyfriend instead.” 

Take that, you motherfuckers. 

80% 

The word boyfriend hangs in the air. There’s a pause, heavy a

Chapter 8 

Oh Goddess… 

The tub looks too small for him, and I almost laugh at the thought of him cramming into it which would make him look like a grown man in a kiddie pool. 

But then Enoch turns his head toward me, his hair sticking to his forehead, damp and disheveled, and all I can think is why does he have to look so damn perfect while being so clueless? 

“Alright.” I mutter, snapping myself out of it. “Let’s get this over with? 

Enoch blinks at me, his green eyes wide and curious, like he’s waiting for instructions. Of course, he is. He doesn’t even know how to bathe himself. 

I roll up my sleeves and grab the stool from the corner, setting it beside the tub. “Okay now get inside,” I say, pointing to the edge of the tub. 

He blinks at me, his green eyes steady lat confused. His lips part slightly, and for a second, I think he’s going to argue–then I remember he doesn’t really know how. 

“Inside,” I repeat, sharper this time. 

Finally, he lowers himself onto the edge, his legs sprawling wide, his knees still higher than the rim of the tub. 

I don’t know how many times I’ve thanked the Goddess he didn’t take his pants off. I wouldn’t have been able to suppress myself looking. 

Great, what a fucking pervert you’ve become Taryn. In a short amount of time too. 

I swallow hard and focus on rolling up my sleeves. 

I’m not going to think about how the sheer size of him makes this bathroom feel cramped. Or how his skin gleams faintly under the dim light, smooth, inked, and dangerously waking parts of me that have remained dormant since my entire life. 

Fuck. get it together, Taryn! 

I grab a bar of soap, wetting it under the faucet, and start with his arms. His muscles shift under my touch, solid and unyielding, as though steel wrapped in silk. 

How is someone so burly have skin this soft? 

However, I slowly move to his palms where the softness of his skin ends. 

His hands are filled with battle scars and callouses which wouldn’t actually shock me considering he’s a rogue who might. have wandered the unclaimed lands to survive. 

“Your hands,” I mutter, scrubbing the soap over his calloused palms. “They feel like you’ve been breaking bricks for fun.” 

He doesn’t respond, but his eyes follow my every move, unblinking and studying me. 

“It’s weird, you know,” I add, rinsing the soap off his arms. “How you look like this but can’t even bathe yourself. What were you before this?” 

Nothing. Not even a flicker of recognition in those green eyes. 

I sigh and grab the shampoo, working it into his hair. It’s softer than I expected, slipping through my fingers like strands of silk 

1/5 

Sat, 15 Mar 

Chapter 8 

The lavender scent from the soap fills the air, and for a moment, I forget how strange this situation is. 

“You smell like a field of flowers.” I murmur, almost to myself. “Not what I’d expect from a rogue” 

Enoch tilts his head slightly, his lips quirking into the smallest umile. 

“Good?” He asks, those forest green eyes once again looking straight into my soul. 

As if he can read entirely all the vulgar thoughts I have of him. 

BO% 

“Don‘).” I warn, rinsing the suck out of his hair. “Don’t do that. Don’t look at me like you’ve got some kind of inside joke. I’m not in the mood.” 

He doesn’t say anything, of course, but the smile doesn’t fade. 

When I move to scrub his shoulders, my eyes catch on the tattoo just above his heart. It’s a lily, the petals delicate and detailed, curling like they’re caught in a breeze. 

“A lily?” I snort, tracing the edge of the ink with the soap. “What does this mean?” 

Enoch’s eyes flick to mine, his expression still blank but somehow amused. 

Right, as if he’d remember. 

I shake my head, focusing on the task at hand. His back is broad and scarred, the muscles shifting under my fingers as I scrub. 

www 

I’m so absorbed in my work that I don’t notice his movement until his arms wrap around my waist, and his head rests against my thighs. 

I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. 

“Good,” he growls, the word vibrating against my skin. 

A shiver runs through me, and I hate that my first instinct isn’t to shove him off. Instead, my heart races, and my face burns. and my brain decides to betray me by veering straight into dangerous territory. 

I could feel my cunt pulsating with his breath so close to it, with only a thin fabric of my uniform separates us being entirely skin–to–skin. 

“You can’t just—” I stammer, tugging at his arms. “Enoch, let go. I’m trying to finish.” 

He doesn’t budge, but he just presses his face more against my leg like a giant, fucking needy puppy. 

“Good,” he growls again, softer this time, his voice low and gravelly. 

I groan, both flustered and exasperated. “Fine, but this is the last time I’m doing this for you. Next time, you’re on your own 

bath” 

He tilts his head up, looking at me with wide, almost innocent eyes, and I feel a pang of guilt. 

By the time I’m done, my nerves are shot, and 1 can’t get out of the bathroom fast enough. I thrust a towel into his hands. “Dry yourself off,” I say, my voice sharp and unsteady. 

As soon as the door closes behind me, I lean against it, trying to calm my racing heart. My face is hot, and my thoughts are a 

mess 

From inside the bathroom, I hear Enoch hum softly to himself, the sound low and content 

2/5 

Chapter 8 

Great. He’s fine. Meanwhile, I’m on the verge of a breakdown 

Okay. Taryn, now move on to his clothes. 

I shake off the lingering heat crawling up my spine and drop to my knees beside the bed, reaching for the dusty box shoved underneath. The thing feels heavier than I remember, though maybe that’s just the weight of my part stupidity. 

The box in my hands feels like it’s made of lead. It’s ridiculous how something so small can drag so many shitty memories to the surface. I sit cross–legged on the floor, flipping throughs my past mistakes disguised as thoughtful gifts 

The leather bracelet. The sleek, minimalistic watch. The customs cufflinks Each piece an attempt to prove I was worth his time, his affection. And each piece brushed aside with a dismissive comment that still echoes in my mind. 

“You know I can’t wear that around, he’d said once, holding up the leather wristband I thought he’d love. “It would ruin my reputation” 

Another time, it was. “Seraphina already got me one just like it. You should’ve asked me first.” 

I hadn’t realized back then how much Seraphina had been keeping tabs on me, swooping in to buy things first just to keep me from making him happy. I was too blinded by the idea that I could fix us, too desperate to be enough.