Ruined By The Forbidden Lycan

A month had passed. A month since Eryndra had fled from her mate. Now, it was time to marry that Lycan beast. As her tired gaze met the mirror, her chest tightened. Staring back at her was a female she hardly recognized. Clad in accessories that made her feel like goods being wrapped for delivery. This wasn't her fate, but she had to bear it. She had to bear this awful responsibility that made her heart ache beyond measure. The maid pin her auburn hair up, styling it with rhinestones, and as they worked, her mother's stern advice lingered in her mind. 'Be kind and presentable to the prince. Do not question him and do whatever he says, no matter the circumstances.' Last month, her mother had cast the Veil Spell. After that, Eryndra had spent many nights recalling her mate. She imagined the disappointment on his face after seeing her gone. Imagined him searching restlessly for her. The guilt ate her up, and she wished she hadn't left him the way she did. Maren h

ERYNDRA The carriage was silent, save for the heavy crunching sound of the wheels against the road. Eryndra peered through the narrow window, her palms sweaty against her thighs as she tried her best to stay calm. Her dress and hair had been refixed. She had told Luna Maren she'd undone them herself due to shortness of breath. The scene in her father's chamber wouldn't stop replaying. Who would have thought her mate from that night was not an Omega but the Grand Marshal of the Citadel?! A Lycan of all species! She was mated to the one whose sword would slash her neck the moment he found out what she really was! Her mother would go insane if she get to know of this. When Lord Theron crowded her earlier, she had felt the Veil spell a breath away from breaking. It would have, had she not channeled her energy into strengthening it. Even at that, the spell had weakened. Luckily, the male wasn't in the royal carriage, as he and his squire were riding ahead. It was going

Theron’s Lycan stirred to the surface as he clutched the clothing so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Flashes of how her presence had nearly made his Lycan lose control tightened his chest. How her scent stirred something in him. How he couldn't sleep that night they shared the same room. She... She had been the one he claimed in that cave? A door cracked open somewhere behind him. Luna Maren’s voice pierced the fog in his head. “Have you done what—” She froze at the sight of him. Her face paled like that of the dead. “My Lord?” “Is this true?” Theron could barely recognize his own voice. For the first time, it trembled. His chest heaved as though he had just been stabbed violently. “This dress,” he said, almost in a whisper. “Was it truly hers?” Maren staggered as if she had been struck by lightning. Her throat bobbed, and her face turned even paler. “I… I have no idea what you are talking about.” Theron’s pupils dilated. Heat started in the center of

Theron snapped awake, breath quick and heavy, and head foggy. He was in his chamber. He recalled getting back to the Citadel at dark. Zarin found him, and before Theron could speak, the world had turned dark. As memories flooded his head, he sprang up from the bed, ignoring the light pain in his chest. A reminder the poison hadn't faded completely. He wore a tunic and grabbed his swords from the table. Zarin stepped in at that moment, and his eyes widened. “My Lord. You are awake... How did you get shot with the most dangerous poison in the realm... W-where are you going?” “To get Lady fucking Eryndra,” he walked past him and destruction seemed to follow him. “She is busy at the ceremony at the moment, and you don’t look entirely well enough to go to the Grand Court,” Zarin said, and Theron froze in his step. “Worry not, I've spoken to the Prince. He said you can stay in your chamber until you are alright.” Theron slowly glanced over his shoulder. “What do you mean by ceremony?

"Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God," Eryndra rambled up the stairs, whipping her head back to check on the devil at her heel. She threw aside all the ladylike lectures she had received from her mother, lifted her dress, and sprinted through the dimly lit hall. If she kept running, she could survive and safely reach her room in four seconds. Perhaps five, if Theron miraculously slipped and fell. However, she bumped into a hard chest. Her gaze met the guard she'd sent away earlier, his eyes sharp with concern. "My lady," he reached for his weapon. "Are you alright?" He glanced past her, alerted. Eryndra mouth opening to explain, but then it struck her. What was she going to say? That she was running from the Grand Marshal? The highest-ranking military officer, a man who commanded every soldier? "My Lord," the guard immediately removed his hand from his weapon, his eyes widening in respect when he spotted Theron. Shit. Shit. Shit. She ran past the guard, her heart racing harder.