Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King

(Arlo)I head to the war room. Very pleased with my own timing.I walk its length slowly, my boots echoing over the tile, letting my presence settle in every crevice.The chair creaks as I pull one back. The one at the head of the table, of course, and drop into it like I own the place.Outside, I can hear the frantic murmurs from the courtyard. No doubt the ceremony is stalling, the priests fidgeting, Soren sweating through his collar. Good. Let him flounder.Moments later, the doors swing open and in comes Soren, looking every inch the man who knows he’s lost control. Cerelia follows two paces behind, pale and pristine, like she’s been carved from serenity itself.“King Arlo,” Soren begins, voice careful. “How would you like to proceed?”“I’ll let you know once I’ve spoken to your Luna.”Cerelia tilts her head. “I’m right here.”“I wasn’t referring to you.”Her mouth tightens and Soren clears his throat.“Hilda’s not-”“According to my records, she still is,” I interrupt. “And I’d

(Hilda)The forest is alive with the sound of celebration.Wolves dart between trees, their yipping laughter echoing through the night like music.I want to run. Want to feel the freedom Arlo assured me I’d feel soon. But my body disagrees.Each step sends a warning through my ribs. My muscles ache with the dull throb of weakness. I’ve been idle for too long and my body is letting me know I’m not ready for this.I used to be the quickest wolf in this pack, now I can barely maintain a trot. And beneath it all, the bond still sings, low and relentless, like a wire pulled too tight.Arlo’s wolf disappeared into the trees ahead of the pack, his massive form cutting through the underbrush like shadow incarnate. I haven’t seen him since. But I feel him. Somewhere nearby.It should be comforting. It isn’t.I shift late. The pain of it nearly buckles my legs, but I grit my teeth and push through. My wolf is lighter now, lean from the period of recovery, but she’s still here. Sharp-eyed and st

(Hilda)The bed is too big, too soft and too unfamiliar.I perch on the edge, knees drawn up, blanket pulled tight around my shoulders, pretending the copper tub across the room holds more promise than pain relief.My body is one big ache. Ribs splintering, shoulder hot from the wrap, but that’s not what keeps me wired and twitching.I can still feel his hands on me. Not in the way I expected, nothing greedy or arrogant, but in the way he touched my shoulder last night like it mattered to him that I survived.And gods help me, I wanted him to keep touching me.I should hate this.I should hate him.But the bond won’t let me lie to myself.It pulls and coils like fire beneath my skin. I’ve never felt anything like it. Not even with Soren. That bond was warm. Gentle. This is… raw. Primal. A snare laid under my own feet.I don’t know what to do with it.The food’s gone cold. The fire’s burned down to embers. My eyes burn from lack of sleep, but I can’t make them close. Not when every

(Soren)I shouldn’t be here.Not this close to the border. Not with Cerelia sleeping soundly in our bed, believing I’m still next to her. Not with the moon heavy and bright overhead like it’s watching me.But I can’t sleep. Not when every time I close my eyes, I see her.Hilda.The bond is gone. Broken cleanly, officially and honorably. I made my choice. She accepted it. That should be the end of it.But it doesn’t feel like an ending.I’ve walked the eastern edge of our territory three times now, feet dragging through pine needles and damp soil.It’s stupid. I know it’s stupid. Arlo’s lands begin just beyond the ridge, and only a fool would test the patience of a king like him.Especially for a woman he’s already claimed. Especially when I have a new mate.And yet.I press a hand against the tree nearest me, steadying myself. She looked so small when they walked away.Fragile in a way she never used to be. She’s always been petite, but never weak. I’ve seen Hilda broken, bloodied

(Hilda)I tell him I’ll stay.Not as his mate. As a warrior. I’m not ready to plan a future with him. We’ll have to see what happens in time.The words feel like I’m building a fence inside my own chest. Arlo listens, jaw working once, eyes not leaving mine. He doesn’t argue. He just nods like a king approving a treaty he didn’t ask for.“Fine. I’ll give you the space you need. You can earn your place on your own terms and make up your mind about me at your own pace. When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.”A promise and a test in the same breath.I enter my room and sit on the edge of the bed, trying to breathe through the restlessness. I can still feel the ghost of Arlo’s breath against my skin from earlier, warm and stubborn. The bond hums, wanting and unhelpful.Arlo barely knocks before he enters, not waiting for permission.“I wanted to see how you’re feeling.”“I’m fine.”“You’re not.” He stops an arm’s length away, as if the space between us is a third wolf we’re both trying not t