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Hunger I Can’t Name - Kael point of view

Author: Magdeleina Thomson
last update Last Updated: 2025-09-27 13:34:56

Control has always been my crown. I wear it better than steel, steadier than ritual, harder than truth. Men obey because I do not waver. Wolves obey because I do not want. Desire is a lever for lesser rulers; I rule by bone and will.

Tonight, I nearly kissed a rogue.

Riley Ashford. Insolent, bleeding, bright with defiance. I should have snapped her neck the first time she laughed in my court. That would have been simple. Clean. Correct.

I did not.

Instead, I caught her jaw, dragged my thumb over her mouth, and leaned close enough to breathe the heat of her refusal. Close enough that for a heartbeat the world narrowed to the shape of her lips and the audacity in her eyes.

I hate her for that moment.

I hate myself more.

The throne room felt too small for what shook inside me. I rose, obsidian creaking under my hands, and the sound irritated me because it sounded like weakness learning a language. My steps cracked along the marble. Guards turned to stone as I passed; even the torc
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  • The Lycan King’s Rogue Queen   Of Guard Dogs, Trust Falls, and Terrible Teamwork

    Riley Waking up in silk sheets still felt wrong. Not morally — I had no morals before coffee — but philosophically. Rogues aren’t meant for luxury. We’re meant for bruises, bad weather, and sleeping next to weapons, not thread counts. But apparently, I was now a “guest,” which translated to “royal houseplant under supervision.” Two Lycans guarded my door. Again. Like I was a particularly dangerous vase. I swung my legs out of bed, yawned, and opened the door just to watch them flinch. “Morning, boys! Blink twice if you need a hug.” They didn’t. Blink, I mean. Or smile. Or breathe, possibly. I sighed. “You know, for creatures descended from primal power, you’re very bad at conversation.” One finally spoke. “His Majesty instructed—” “Lemme guess: Don’t let her leave, don’t let her bite anyone, don’t let her burn down the palace?” “Correct.” I grinned. “Cute. He thinks he can stop me.” When Lira arrived, I was still glaring at the guards through the crack in the door, eating

  • The Lycan King’s Rogue Queen   Midnight Politics and Other Terrible Ideas

    Riley It was way past midnight, and the palace was doing that weird echo thing castles do when everyone’s pretending to sleep but nobody actually is. The nobles had scattered after the duel, leaving a trail of panic, perfume, and crushed ego in their wake. The feast had turned into a rumor factory, and I was the headline: Rogue Wolf humiliates Lycan noble; King almost smiles. So obviously, I decided to eavesdrop on the royal debrief. Because self-preservation? Never heard of her. The council chamber was lit by those moody torches that try very hard to look dignified. I slid behind one of the curtains again, because apparently that was my thing now — professional curtain lurker. From there, I could see just enough to enjoy the drama. Carrow’s voice hit first — sharp, nasal, and deeply punchable. “Majesty, she disgraced us. A Lycan beaten by a werewolf? It’s unheard of. The court will never recover!” From behind the curtain, I mouthed, Cry harder. Erynos, bless his scholarly ol

  • The Lycan King’s Rogue Queen   Butter Knives, Bloodlines & Bad Decisions

    Riley Here’s the thing about royal dinners: they always start with soup and end with someone’s ego on fire. I was just hoping, for once, it wouldn’t be mine. The room glittered — chandeliers, silver, nobles so polished you could probably check your reflection on their foreheads. And then there was me: rogue, stray, freshly bathed but still carrying an aura of “don’t talk to me, I bite.” I’d barely taken two sips of wine when Lord Carrow, human embodiment of inherited arrogance, decided to bless us with his voice. “To old laws,” he said, smiling like the toast itself was a sermon. “To blood untainted, to purity preserved, to His Majesty’s mercy—” I raised my glass. “And to the extinction of bad speeches.” You could’ve heard a mouse choke. Kael didn’t move, which was either restraint or entertainment. Hard to tell with him. Carrow, bless his tiny pride, turned to me with a condescending smile. “You mock what you cannot comprehend, wolf.” “I mock what bores me,” I said, taking

  • The Lycan King’s Rogue Queen   Bread, Baths, and Bad Ideas

    Riley If palaces had personalities, this one was an arrogant show-off. Velvet curtains that looked like they could smother a small kingdom. Chandeliers so bright they could burn retinas. Carpets thick enough to hide the remains of a scandal. And the bed. Gods. The bed. It wasn’t a piece of furniture; it was a declaration of war on poverty. Massive. Silken. Possibly enchanted to eat peasants. I eyed it suspiciously. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?” The bed, as usual, said nothing. On the table: bread, cheese, wine. And a knife. I laughed so hard I nearly dropped the bottle. “Oh, that’s rich. Bread and a knife. Nothing says romance like snacks and potential murder weapons. Kael, you absolute menace.” I picked up the knife, pressed it dramatically to my chest, and sighed, “Be still, my rogue heart.” I collapsed onto the bed, sinking into its sinful softness. “This is unfair. I was getting good at sleeping on cold stone.” Through the cracked door, two Lycans stood like perfect

  • The Lycan King’s Rogue Queen   Terms of Surrender (That Aren’t)

    Riley Newsflash: palaces echo. Especially when you limp through them dripping werewolf and making terrible life choices with a king at your elbow. We hit the grand hall like a scandal on legs. Columns soared, banners draped, floor polished enough to see the smeared comedy show of blood on my face. Court functionaries froze mid-scroll. Guards straightened so hard I heard vertebrae complain. A steward gagged delicately, which, rude. I flashed him a smile. “Don’t worry, it’s not contagious. Unless you’re boring.” Kael didn’t flinch. He strode, and the sea parted because that’s what seas do when a Lycan King wants his chair. The throne sat on its dais like the world’s most expensive warning label. I’d been in this room as contraband. Today I walked in as… what, exactly? Chaos with a hall pass? We stopped at the foot of the steps. Advisors oozed out of the woodwork: robed, perfumed, bearded in wisdom they’d probably bought wholesale. Erynos, the ancient librarian of doom, hovered

  • The Lycan King’s Rogue Queen   The Things We Don’t Say

    Riley The clearing smelled like blood, ash, and testosterone. Bodies everywhere. Wolves shredded. Trees broken. And me—standing in the middle, dripping, bruised, and grinning like the world’s most sarcastic war goddess. Kael shifted back, all gold eyes and brooding menace, covered in streaks of blood like it was some kind of cologne. Honestly? If this man wasn’t careful, Murder Monthly was going to make him their centerfold. “Nice timing,” I said, wiping blood off my cheek with the back of my hand. “Next time maybe bring snacks? I was getting bored.” His gaze burned. “You could have died.” “Correction: they could have died.” I gestured to the carnage. “And spoiler alert—they did.” “You mock,” he said, stepping closer, voice like thunder in velvet. “Yeah,” I shot back, “because it beats crying. And I don’t look cute with mascara streaks.” --- Kael She laughed. Bleeding, trembling, still standing—she laughed. I should have roared at her. Punished her. Dragged her back in cha

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