PART TWO
CHAPTER FIVE
The Mark That Shook the Packs**
The mark did not fade.
Silver fire coiled around my wrist like living metal, warm and pulsing in time with my heart. Every wolf within miles felt it—the ancient claim of a Lycan King.
Kael released my hand slowly, as if letting go cost him something. "It's done," he said quietly. "You are under my protection now."
Protection.
The word tasted unfamiliar.
"What does that mean for my pack?" I asked.
Kael's eyes darkened. "It means Blackridge will kneel or burn."
I stiffened. "Ronan is still their Alpha."
Kael's gaze sharpened. "Then Ronan has already lost."
As if summoned by his name, a howl split the night—furious, raw, unmistakably Alpha.
Ronan.
The forest shuddered as wolves poured into the clearing, dozens of them shifting from human to beast mid-run. At their head, Ronan burst through the trees in full wolf form—massive, golden-furred, eyes blazing with rage and something dangerously close to desperation.
He skidded to a halt when he saw us.
When he saw the mark.
Ronan shifted back to human in a violent snap of bones, breath ragged, eyes locked on my wrist.
"What did you do?" he demanded.
I met his gaze steadily. "I was claimed."
"You're still mine," he growled.
Kael moved.
One step. That was all.
The air crushed inward, forcing Ronan to his knees.
"No," Kael said calmly. "She never was."
The wolves of Blackridge whined and lowered their heads, instinct overriding loyalty. Lycans were not part of pack hierarchy—they were above it.
Ronan snarled, fighting the pressure. "You don't get to take what's mine."
Kael's voice dropped to a lethal whisper. "You rejected her. By Lycan law, by ancient law, by fate itself—you forfeited all claim."
Ronan's eyes flicked to me, wild and burning. "Ayla… please."
The word shattered something old inside me.
I stepped forward.
"I begged you once," I said quietly. "You turned your back. Now live with it."
The forest went silent.
Kael placed a hand on my back, steady and warm. "Go," he told Ronan. "Before I remind you what it means to challenge a king."
Ronan rose slowly, humiliation radiating from him in waves.
"This isn't over," he said.
Kael smiled.
"Oh, it is."
CHAPTER SIX
The Lycan Court**
Kael's territory lay far north, beyond pack borders and human maps—a city carved from obsidian cliffs and ancient stone, lit by moonfire and guarded by beasts older than history.
The Lycan Court.
As we approached, the gates opened without a sound. Lycans lined the path, warriors and nobles alike, all bowing as Kael passed.
Then their gazes shifted to me.
Confusion. Curiosity. Awe.
"She's small," someone murmured.
"She's omega-born," whispered another.
Kael stopped.
The silence was absolute.
"She is my mate," he said evenly. "And she will be your queen."
Every Lycan knelt.
My knees nearly gave out.
Queen?
Kael turned to me. "You will face resistance," he said quietly as we walked. "Not because you are weak—but because you are different."
I swallowed. "I don't know how to rule."
"You will learn," he said. "And I will bleed anyone who doubts you."
Heat rushed to my cheeks.
That night, alone in the vast chamber meant for queens, my wolf stirred restlessly.
We are not broken, she whispered. We are becoming.
For the first time since my rejection, I believed her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Alpha Who Regretted Everything**
Ronan did not sleep.
He paced his chambers like a caged beast, the echo of my rejection replaying endlessly in his mind.
The bond—his bond—still ached, torn and ragged. He had expected relief when he broke it.
Instead, he felt hollow.
Every scent reminded him of me. Rain. Herbs. Blood.
The pack whispered.
Some questioned him openly now. Others avoided his gaze.
He slammed a fist into the stone wall, cracking it.
"She was an omega," he muttered. "She would've weakened me."
But the image of her standing beside Kael—unbroken, marked, powerful—haunted him.
A knock came.
A messenger bowed low. "Alpha… the Lycans have issued a decree."
Ronan's heart sank.
"Blackridge Pack is to surrender border lands and pay blood-debt for harming a Lycan Queen."
Queen.
The word tasted like poison.
Ronan's claws slid from his fingers.
"I made a mistake," he whispered.
And he would do anything to undo it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Heat and Fire**
Lycan mating bonds did not wait.
The heat struck without warning—liquid fire pooling low in my belly, my skin hypersensitive, every breath too shallow.
Kael found me trembling by the window, moonlight painting silver across my skin.
"It's beginning," he said softly.
I nodded, embarrassed and aching. "I don't know how to—"
"You don't have to," he murmured, stepping closer. "Your body already does."
His scent wrapped around me—smoke, winter, power.
When he touched me, it wasn't possessive. It was reverent.
"You were never meant to be small," he whispered against my temple. "You were forged for a throne."
The bond flared, consu
ming thought.
Outside, thunder rolled.
Inside, I burned—and for the first time, I welcomed the fire.