The Royal Mate Of The Cursed Lycan King

Aria’s POV

Happy birthday to me.

The words taste bitter on my tongue, like ash I can’t quite spit out. It’s seven in the evening, and my twenty-first birthday has passed like every other cursed day in Bloodfang Pack—quiet, empty, invisible.

Today marks fourteen years of survival in this hellhole. Fourteen years of being the shadow at the edge of every room, the reminder of everything my pack despises.

My name is Aria Hale, and Bloodfang is my goddamn pack. A pack that thrives on strength, on cruelty, on dominance—and has nothing but contempt for me.

I had spent years whispering prayers to the Moon Goddess, begging that on this day, my twenty-first birthday, she would finally show me mercy. That I would find my mate, and maybe—just maybe—someone would finally see me as worth loving.

But the hours have dragged by with no spark, no bond, no pull. Nothing.

Maybe I’m cursed. Maybe the Moon Goddess forgot me the day I was born. Maybe she laughed as she watched me grow into this… mistake.

And the truth? I don’t even care if my mate is broken, scarred, ugly, paralyzed—hell, I’d take a wolf half-dead at this point. Anything would be better than this emptiness. Anything would be better than always being alone.

No friends. No family. No one to crush on me, to tease me, to even notice I exist beyond being a punching bag. Just me, walking through life like a ghost in my own skin.

If not for my wolf, I wouldn’t even still be here. She’s the only fighter between us. She whispers courage into me when my bones shake, holds me together when my heart wants to collapse. Left to me alone, I would have ended it years ago.

Because tell me—how long can someone wake up every morning only to be spat on? To be mocked, shoved, used, and hated by everyone who shares her bloodline?

What the hell did I ever do to deserve this?

“Your very existence in this pack is disgusting.”

The words slice into me before I even see the speaker. A warrior sneers as he brushes past me on the training grounds, spitting near my feet as if even my shadow contaminates the dirt.

I stop. Just for a moment. My throat tightens, and I stare at him, at all of them—wolves training, laughing, sparring under the fading light of dusk. And I realize I don’t even need to ask the question anymore.

There’s my answer.

I am the offense.

Not what I did. Not what I failed to do. Just me—Aria Hale, breathing, walking, existing.

I drag in a breath, force my chin up, and keep moving. They won’t let me train with them anyway. They’ve made it clear: I am not worthy of standing beside them, not worthy of lifting a sword, not worthy of fighting for this pack.

But tonight, under the weight of a twenty-first birthday that feels like a funeral, I feel something shifting inside me.

I don’t know if it’s anger.

I don’t know if it’s despair.

But it’s there—coiling like smoke, refusing to be ignored.

And deep inside, my wolf growls a promise.

This is not the end of our story.

I’ve always been the runt. The stray shadow of Bloodfang Pack.

Ordered around. Humiliated in public. Overlooked in every area. If there was a place where I belonged, it was somewhere at the bottom, pressed under everyone else’s boots.

And yet, no matter how much I hated myself for it, I held onto one fragile thread of hope. The mate bond.

The Moon Goddess couldn’t have been so cruel as to forget me entirely, right? Somewhere out there, someone was destined for me. Someone who would look at me and see more than a mistake. Someone who would make me worth something in this world.

So I wandered that night, circling the edges of the grand bonfire blazing in the clearing, where the pack had gathered for the Mating Ceremony. The air pulsed with anticipation, wolves whispering and shifting nervously, hoping, waiting, watching. Couples stumbled into each other’s arms with wide eyes and tears of joy, sparks igniting with every destined touch.

And me? I curled into myself, hugging my arms, sitting at the farthest corner as I watched everyone else find their other half. I told myself not to care. But still, my heart whispered traitorous wishes.

What if it’s Beta Rhys?

No. He’d laughed the loudest the day I was shoved face-first into the mud.

Or maybe Jonah? He’s strong, he could—

No. He’d tripped me during drills just for sport.

I groaned under my breath, burying my face in my hands. Who was I kidding? Every wolf in this pack has treated me like dirt. What difference would it make if one of them turned out to be my mate? The bond wouldn’t erase the bruises or the years of cruelty.

Even their leader, their shining pride—the Alpha himself.

My lips twisted into a bitter smile. Speaking of the devil…

Alpha Darius Blackwood.

Tall, cold, magnetic—the kind of power that makes the air around him crackle. He strode into the clearing like the night itself bent to him. And as always, glued to his side was Lyra Vexley. Golden-haired, sharp-eyed, sweet-tongued. His… what exactly? Lover? Mistress? Or maybe the future Luna in all but name?

No one ever asked. No one dared. Lyra was everywhere he was, her hand slipping into his, her smile carved only for him.

And me? I watched from my corner like a fool. A ridiculous thought flickered through my mind: what if Lyra is his mate?

I almost choked on a laugh. The goddess surely wasn’t so cruel as to gift perfection with perfection.

Was she?

The moonlight shifted overhead, silver spilling across the clearing. My chest tightened. A hum, a tremor. Then it hit—sparks.

My breath caught.

The bond. The pull. The wild, unstoppable magic of destiny itself rushed through me like fire in my veins.

He’s here. My mate.

Tears stung my eyes as my chest swelled with something dangerously close to joy. After twenty-one years of nothingness—finally, finally, I belonged to someone.

And then…

I looked up.

Straight into the eyes of Alpha Darius Blackwood.

Handsome. Powerful. Cruel when crossed.

And now—mine.

For a heartbeat, I believed my life had changed.

For a heartbeat, I believed I was saved.