The Tyrant Lycan's Ruined Omega

"I, Scott Redwood, reject Ravenna Holloway as my mate."

The words hit the ballroom so hard the music seemed to die with them. For one terrible second, nobody moved.

Then the whispers started.

I stood frozen beneath the crystal chandeliers of the Redwood Estate ballroom. The most powerful families in Luminara—council members, alphas, and their perfect wives and children—were there.

Everyone was staring at me like they were watching a public execution.

Scott didn’t even look guilty.

In his tailored black suit, Scott stood with his hands clasped behind his back. Not a sign of hesitation crossed his face.

“You’re too weak, Ravenna,” he said. “This pack needs a Luna who can stand beside me, not hide behind me.”

I had known Scott since we were children. Our mating had been arranged before I was old enough to understand what it meant. We were supposed to attend Greystone together, build political careers together, and marry afterward.

A soft laugh cut through the silence. I saw my older sister standing beside our father in a silver gown, a diamond bracelet glittering against her wrist. Freya sipped her champagne and smiled at someone across the room.

Alistair Holloway, my father, sat by the council table, his expression as cold as during negotiations. He wore it whenever something embarrassed him.

My mother avoided my eyes completely, clutching her champagne glass tighter.I'd seen that expression before.Scott simply turned around and walked away.

⏾⋆.˚

Six hours later, I still couldn't stop hearing the whispers.

“Deliver these to Xavier’s penthouse,” she’d said sweetly. “Try not to cry on them.”

“Why?” I asked, annoyed, throwing my copy of Fenrir Ideology to the floor.

I should have refused, but it was either run this errand or listen to my father yell at me.

I carried the boxes all the way across the city myself. Xavier Beckett lived at the top of Luminara’s most expensive tower. I grew up in a medieval castle with huge gardens, farms, and fountains. But this penthouse? Damn.

It was clearly another "gift" from his cousin, the Lycan king. Xavier Beckett wasn’t just rich—he was royalty. This penthouse proved it.

From the street, the tower looked less like a home and more like somewhere villains held board meetings.

He wore a dark sweater half-unzipped at the throat. His violet-tinted eyes were sharp with lazy disinterest.

“Rough night?” he asked.

I brushed past him into the penthouse. “Thanks for helping,” I muttered sarcastically.

Xavier shut the door behind me. “You looked like you had it handled.”

The boxes nearly slipped from my grip. “Where do these go?”

“Anywhere.” He dropped onto the leather sofa and stretched out like he owned the entire world. “Probably another absurd gift your sister will pretend not to care about.”

I glanced at the Cartier logo. “Since when is Cartier absurd?”

“Since rich people started confusing affection with receipts.”

That almost made me smile, and then I looked up. The television across the room flashed with footage from the ballroom. My face filled the screen.

Scott was standing beside that girl. The brunette from Italy—everyone had already started talking about her online. She stood beside Scott as though she belonged there. While cameras flashed around them, she never once looked uncomfortable.

I looked away.

Xavier noticed immediately. “Damn,” he said, leaning back further into the couch. “They’re replaying it already? Cold.”

“Do they not have actual news to report?”

“People love scandals.” His gaze flicked toward me. “Especially when pretty rich girls get publicly dumped and… news is slow these days.”

I set the boxes down too hard.

Xavier watched me quietly for a second before sliding a whiskey glass across the counter toward me.

“Drink.”

“I don’t really…”

“You’re nineteen, not nine.”

“I said I don’t really drink.”

His mouth curved slightly. “You also looked like you wanted to murder three people in the elevator downstairs. Maybe try something new.”

I stared at the glass. The TV replayed Scott smiling beside his new mate. I grabbed the whiskey and swallowed.

The burn nearly killed me.

Xavier laughed, genuinely amused. “There she is,” he murmured.

I coughed violently. “This tastes like gasoline.”

“That’s because it’s expensive.”

Against my will, a short laugh escaped me.

Xavier’s expression shifted slightly when he heard it. He hadn’t expected me to laugh back.

He poured me another glass, more slowly this time. “You know,” he said casually, “rejecting someone publicly for an online poetry girl is insane behavior.”

I groaned into my hands. “Please stop talking.”

“No, seriously. That’s almost impressive.”

I laughed again before I could stop myself.

Xavier leaned back against the marble counter, watching me over the rim of his glass. “You’re not like Freya.”

I snorted. “Freya’s perfect.”

“Nobody’s perfect.”

“That’s not what people say.”

“No.” His gaze moved over me slowly, thoughtful now instead of mocking. “People just like polished things because they photograph better.”

I looked away too late. “You’re staring.”

“Mm.”

“That’s rude.”

“You came into my place emotionally unstable, carrying ten thousand dollars in jewelry.” His mouth twitched. “I’m observing the situation.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet you’re still here.”

I shifted backward, my elbow catching the edge of my whiskey glass. The crystal tipped, and whiskey splashed across the front of my white blouse.

“Oh my God—"

The thin fabric clung instantly to my skin, turning sheer.

Xavier froze.

"I should go," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

Xavier didn't respond. For the first time all evening, he looked completely speechless.

Run, my wolf, Ciel, whispered inside me.

I fumbled with my clutch. "Xavier."

His gaze snapped to mine long enough to see realization hit him. His jaw was tight, and he pushed off the counter.

I stepped back against the marble. He stopped close enough that I could smell the whiskey on his breath.

"You're Freya's boyfriend," I breathed.

"I know." His voice was dangerously calm. "But you've been looking at me like that all night."

My face burned. "I haven't…"

"You have." He tilted my chin up. "Every time you thought I wasn't watching."

I had no defense. "Don't," Ciel begged.

Before I could talk back to him, he leaned in and didn’t ask for permission. He kissed me slowly. His fingers slipped into my hair, gripping tightly, so tightly that it made my head spin.

I wasn't having the worst night of my life yet. But Xavier Beckett, the lycan lord who never gave a damn about anything, was standing there trying not to want me. That was new.

"We can't…" I choked out.

“I know.” But he didn’t pull away. He rested his forehead against mine, breathing hard, fighting himself. “You’re nothing like your sister.”

He grinned shamelessly. "Freya would've arched her back by now. Show off." His gaze raked over my trembling form. "But you? You hide like a scared virgin."

My breath hitched.

His eyes slid down to where my arms crossed over my chest. "Covering yourself like I can't see how hard your nipples are."

"Stop," I whispered. "This is wrong."

"Wrong?" He almost laughed.

"Yes. It's ruined. "I let out a shaky laugh, trying to hide my fear. "You're Xavier, her boyfriend. She loves you."

Something dark flashed in his eyes. Then he moved. One second, there was space between us; the next, his hand was on my jaw, and his mouth crashed into mine, swallowing my protest.

Heat shot through me. I shoved at him in panic, but he just groaned as my fighting turned him on more.

His kiss was pure control, teeth scraping my lip. I bit him back on instinct. He should've pulled away. Instead, he groaned against my mouth, looking way too pleased.

"Little Omega's got teeth," he teased. "Tell me, did you bite Scott too?"

"Fuck you."

He smirked. "That's the problem. You don't get what you do to people."

I shoved him harder this time. "You're insane."

"And you hide." His voice dropped. “You’re always a bomb waiting to happen.”