Unclaimed

Rian’s POV

I got back to the room, and Mira sprang up the moment I stepped in, her eyes red and puffy. She’d clearly been crying.

“Rian, are you okay?” she asked, rushing toward me and wrapping her arms around me tightly, like she was afraid I might vanish.

“I’m fine, Mira,” I murmured, though the words shook in my throat. I didn’t feel fine. Not at all. But how could I tell her that?

She pulled back and stared at me like she was trying to find cracks in my skin. “You survived…” she breathed, tears forming again. “I thought you were dead. I thought he ”

Her voice broke, and she pulled me into another hug. “I was so scared,” she whispered. “No one survives the King’s rut. No one.”

I stiffened, her words sinking in. I had survived something meant to destroy me. That thought alone made my stomach churn.

“I don’t know how,” I whispered. “But I’m still here.”

“This is unbelievable,” she said, pulling back, her face pale but softening. “I’m so happy…”

“Thank you,” I murmured. “No one except Lylah and Madam Serah has ever cared about my well-being before.”

She sniffled, holding my hands. “We’re friends, Rian. I’ll always care about you. Always.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice. I didn’t deserve her kindness—but stars, I needed it.

——————————————————————-

The castle was buzzing with whispers. The Omega survived. The King didn’t kill her. She came back alive.

Everyone looked at me like I was cursed or sacred. But what made it worse was the one person who didn’t look at me at all.

The King.

Since that day, he hadn’t so much as glanced in my direction. He hadn’t summoned me. Hadn’t spoken to me. I hadn’t seen him not even once.

He was avoiding me like I was the plague.

I kept telling myself to prepare. He was my mate when the bond had sparked the moment his eyes met mine. But he hadn’t claimed me. If anything, he seemed torn by my existence. As if my presence was both a threat and a puzzle he hadn’t figured out yet.

The bond shimmered in the back of my mind, constant and silent, like a thread that refused to snap.

But I don’t want to be broken. If he’s going to reject me, then let him do it. At least I’ll know. I’m not stupid. No one wants a weak, unwanted Omega like me

Today, while I was in the kitchen helping Madam Serah as usual, the King’s guards entered.

All the kitchen workers froze. Serah dropped the spoon she was holding. I stopped slicing herbs and turned, confused.

One of the guards walked straight to me and bowed his head slightly to me. My blood turned to ice.

“The King has instructed that you be moved to a room inside his private chamber,” he said, his tone clipped and unreadable.

A heavy silence fell over the kitchen.

“Why?” I asked, my voice thin.

He didn’t answer.

I turned to Mira, whose mouth had fallen open. Serah looked like she wanted to say something but bit her tongue.

I swallowed hard, nodded, and followed the guard, feeling every eye in the room burn into my back.

The walk to his wing was silent.

When we reached the chamber, the guard opened the door for me and I stepped in

The door closed softly behind me.

I stood frozen, staring at the room.

It was nothing like the servant quarters or the cold halls of the castle. It was… warm. Regal. Intimate. The thick velvet curtains were a deep shade of midnight blue, matching the embroidered bedding on the massive four-poster bed. The stone walls were lit by golden wall lamps, flickering with soft firelight.

It felt like stepping into another world.

My heart pounded. This was his wing. This was no guest room. This was a room carved out of the King’s own private space.

And now it was mine?

I walked slowly to the bed, brushing my hand along the headboard. Everything was luxurious. Everything smelled like him pine and smoke and something darker, something that made my stomach twist.

His scent lingered on the sheets, the rug, the very air.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing, trying to make sense of it all.

Why would he put me here?

He hadn’t claimed me. He hadn’t touched me since that night. He hadn’t even looked at me. And yet, he’d given me this room, so close to him.

Why?

Is this a sign of possession ?

Guilt?

Or was this his twisted way of playing with me before discarding me? Like I mean nothing Or did it mean something else!

The walls pressed in around me as the silence deepened. I wrapped my arms around myself, a shiver racing down my spine.

He hadn’t even come to see me. Not once.

I swallowed hard and sat at the edge of the bed, my hands trembling in my lap. The room was beautiful. But I felt like a stranger sitting in someone else’s life

I laid down carefully on the edge of the bed, afraid to wrinkle the sheets, afraid to take up space in a life that clearly wasn’t mine. I stared up at the ceiling, the bond between us pulsing faintly in my chest weak, but impossible to ignore.

Was I just another mistake?

Or something worse?

“I don’t understand you,” I whispered into the silence.

But the silence didn’t answer me.