The Lycan king's Bride

The forest was alive with whispers. The wind carried the scent of damp earth and wildflowers as Lillian Thorn knelt among the roots of an ancient oak tree, carefully gathering sprigs of lavender and yarrow. The herbalist, Old Miriam, had warned her never to linger after sunset, but Lillian had lost track of time.

She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, glancing up at the sky. The full moon hung low, casting an eerie silver glow over the land. As always, a strange warmth spread across her left shoulder where her crescent-shaped birthmark rested. It had been there since birth—always tingling under the moonlight, as if calling to something unseen.

Tonight, the feeling was stronger than ever.

A branch snapped.

Lillian stilled. Her heart pounded as she turned toward the sound. The woods had gone deathly silent—no chirping crickets, no rustling leaves. Just the slow, deliberate crunch of footsteps approaching.

She rose to her feet, clutching her basket.

"Who’s there?" she called, voice steady despite the fear curling in her stomach.

A deep growl rumbled through the air.

From the darkness, silver eyes gleamed. One pair. Then another. And another.

Wolves.

But not just any wolves. These creatures were massive, their forms shifting unnaturally between beast and man. The largest of them stepped forward, golden eyes locking onto hers. His fur shimmered like ink under the moonlight, and when he moved, it was with the grace of a predator who knew he could end her in an instant.

He wasn't just any Lycan. He was their king.

Lillian took a step back, but her body refused to run. The warmth in her shoulder burned now, as if responding to his presence.

Then, he spoke. His voice was deep, rough, and laced with command.

"You are mine."

Lillian’s breath hitched.

The Lycan King had come for her.

Lillian’s breath hitched at the stranger’s words. His voice was deep, like thunder rolling over distant mountains. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she fought the instinct to flee.

“You are mine.”

The declaration sent a shiver down her spine—not just from fear but something else, something unknown yet strangely familiar.

She took a step back. “I belong to no one.”

The massive Lycan tilted his head, studying her. He was taller than any man she had ever seen, his body sculpted with raw power. Dark hair fell to his shoulders, and his golden eyes burned with an intensity that made her breathless. He wore no crown, no cloak of royalty, but she knew who he was. Everyone had heard of him.

Aedric, the Lycan King.

The stories spoke of a ruthless ruler, a beast who commanded legions of wolves, who tore apart enemies without mercy. The monster who had kept humans away from the forbidden forests for generations.

And yet, here he stood, watching her with an expression that was not one of cruelty—but of certainty.

Lillian clenched her fists. “You must be mistaken. I am no one.”

Aedric took a step forward, and the other Lycans who surrounded them—his warriors, she realized—instantly dropped their heads in deference. The display of power made her skin prickle.

“You bear the mark of the Moon,” Aedric said, his gaze flicking to her left shoulder, where her crescent-shaped birthmark burned beneath her cloak. “You are my mate.”

Her blood ran cold.

Mate.

The word rang in her ears like a curse. She had heard the old tales. Lycans did not choose their mates; they were chosen by the Moon Goddess. The bond was unbreakable.

And now, the most powerful Lycan in existence claimed she was his fated mate?

“No.” She shook her head. “That can’t be true. I’m human.”

His lips curled into something that was almost a smirk. “That does not matter.”

Lillian’s heart pounded. This was madness. She wasn’t a princess, nor a warrior. She was just a healer’s apprentice. A simple girl with no power, no claim to royalty, nothing that would make her worthy of standing beside a king.

And yet, the way he looked at her—like she was the most important thing in the world—made her chest tighten.

Aedric raised a hand, and the warriors around them stepped back, giving them space. Then, as if testing something, he lifted his fingers toward her.

Lillian should have run. Should have screamed.

But the moment his fingertips brushed her wrist, a bolt of heat shot through her body. A sensation like fire and ice, pain and pleasure, all at once.

She gasped, jerking her hand back. Aedric’s eyes darkened, but his expression remained composed.

“You feel it too.” His voice was softer now, almost gentle.

Lillian swallowed hard. She did feel it—that undeniable pull, like something deep inside her had awakened. Like she had been searching for something all her life without knowing it, and now she had found it in the last place she ever expected. But she could not accept it.

“I won’t go with you.”

Aedric’s gaze turned unreadable. “You don’t have a choice.”

A sharp whistle cut through the night air, and before Lillian could react, another warrior moved behind her. A strong arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her off the ground.

She screamed, struggling, but the warrior was too strong.

“Let me go!” she cried, kicking wildly.

Aedric stepped closer, his golden eyes flashing. “I will not harm you.”

“Then release me!”

His jaw clenched. “I can’t.”

With a nod, he signaled his warriors. In an instant, they moved, shifting into enormous wolves and disappearing into the shadows.

The warrior holding Lillian hoisted her onto his massive black steed. She thrashed against his grip, but it was useless.

Aedric mounted his own horse beside her, his gaze locked onto hers. “We ride for the Lycan Kingdom.”

Then, without another word, they took off into the night.

And Lillian Thorn, the girl who had lived in peace all her life, was stolen away by the beasts of the forest.