The lycan King Unwanted wife

Lucian POV

The hallway was swallowed in shadow, suffocatingly quiet save for the rhythmic, agonizing sound filtering through the narrow crack of the bedroom door.

“Ah… harder. Adrian…”

The voice was a breathy, honeyed gasp. Elena.

I froze. My hand, cool and trembling, remained glued to the brass doorknob. For a long, suspended second, my brain refused to process the sounds. It was a cruel trick of the mind, a nightmare creeping into my waking hours.

Then came the answering groan. Low. Possessive. Unmistakable.

Adrian.

My boyfriend. The man who held every secret fragment of my soul. The man I had naively vowed to save my untouched innocence for— reserving my first night for the moment I finally found my fated mate, hoping Adrian himself might be the one the gods intended for me.

In a single heartbeat, the warmth bled out of my veins. My temperature plummeted to zero.

I didn't mean to push the door, but the weight of my collapsing reality did it for me. The hinges groaned, widening the frame, exposing the gruesome truth.

The sight didn't just break my heart; it pulverized it into ash.

They were tangled in the twisted silk sheets. Adrian. Elena. My lover, and my stepsister. Swallowed by a betrayal so grotesque it made my stomach heave.

My limp fingers slipped from the knob. I couldn't draw air. My lungs felt flat, utterly crushed under the suffocating weight of the truth.

Adrian’s head snapped toward the doorway. His eyes blew wide, horror instantly washing the flushed pleasure from his face.

“Lucian!”

He scrambled backward, untangling himself from Elena with frantic, pathetic haste.

“It’s not what you think—Lucian, wait!”

Not what I think?

A hysterical, bitter laugh clawed its way up my throat, but it died in a silent, tragic convulsion. No sound came out. It never did. I was born into a silent world, mute, bound by an invisible lock on my throat. I could scream until my soul shattered inside my mind, but the physical world would only ever hear my silence.

I stared at him, my vision blurring behind a thick veil of unshed tears. Then I looked at Elena. My own flesh and blood by marriage. The girl I shared a roof with. She returned my gaze with flush-cheeked composure, offering no apology, no remorse—only a cold, calculating gaze.

Tears finally spilled, scalding my icy cheeks.

Adrian lunged out of bed, reaching for me. “Please! Just let me explain!”

I shook my head violently, the physical motion jagged and raw. No. I slammed my hands over my ears. I couldn't hear another poisoned word, another lie wrapped in mercy.

I turned and fled.

I sprinted up the grand staircase, my feet barely touching the carpet, driven by a blinding, primal urge to escape. I threw myself into my bedroom, slammed the heavy oak door, and threw the deadbolt into place.

The moment my back hit the wooden panel, my knees caved. I slid down to the cold floorboards, burying my face in my hands. Tremors racked my body as I sobbed violently, choking on silent gasps, my throat aching with the sheer force of screams that had nowhere to go.

Why?

The question burned like acid in my chest. Why would they do this to me?

I had adored Adrian. I had built my entire fragile world around his gentle smiles. And Elena… I thought we were sisters. I thought beneath her sharp edges lay a shared bond. I was an utter fool, played for a tragic naive idiot while they laughed behind my back.

I crawled across the carpet on my hands and knees, burying my face in the heavy duvet of my bed. I wept until my chest burned, until my eyes throbbed with a dull, searing ache, until I was entirely drained of tears.

For months, I had held onto one beautiful, fragile dream: the arrival of my fated mate. I had imagined the warmth, the absolute acceptance, the sacred bond woven by the Moon Goddess herself. I had protected my virtue like a delicate flame, keeping my first night sacred for the man destined to be my protector, my husband.

At least Adrian hadn't stolen that from me. He had destroyed my trust, but my soul remained my own.

Wiping the damp tracks from my cheeks, I forced my breathing to steady. I forced my mute lips to form silent words against the quiet air: No more crying.

I had to be strong. I couldn't let them drag me into the abyss.

A sudden, sharp knock reverberated through the door.

I stiffened, every muscle locking into place. I hadn't heard anyone walk up the hall.

Knock. Knock.

“Lucian?”

Elena’s voice floated through the wood, impossibly soft.

Instantly, my sorrow curdled into white-hot rage. My blood boiled beneath my skin. I stood up, walked to the door, and unlocked it with a sharp click, pulling it open to glare at her.

My eyes threw unspoken daggers at her, my jaw set so tight it hurt.

“Can we talk?” she asked softly.

I shook my head firmly, making a harsh gesture for her to leave.

“Please, Lucian,” she pleaded, taking a small step forward. “Just hear me out. I won't go until you let me speak.”

I stared at her, my pulse hammering in my ears. Elena had always been relentless, always getting whatever she demanded. Realizing she wouldn't leave me in peace, I stepped aside and motioned bitterly into the room.

She walked inside, lowering her head in a rare display of quiet shame. I sat on the very edge of my bed, putting as much distance between us as possible.

For a terrifying, heavy moment, neither of us breathed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered finally, her voice cracking. “I’m so sorry, Lucian. I don’t know what came over me. It was like… a moment of madness.”

I stared at her in sheer disbelief. I raised my hands, quickly signing with furious, violent motions: A moment of madness? You were with my boyfriend!

“I know,” she wept, wringing her hands. “I made a terrible mistake!”

I shook my head, my hands moving again, trembling with outrage: You didn't accidentally trip into his bed, Elena. You chose him. You chose to ruin me.

She flinched, looking away. “Please… just don’t tell Dad. If he finds out, he’ll disown me.”

A silent, bitter, hysterical laugh escaped my chest. I signed back rapidly: That’s what you care about? Your allowance? Your reputation?

“No! That’s not it!” She suddenly grabbed my hands, holding them tight to stop my signing. “Please, Lucian, forgive me. I want to make it up to you. I swear it.”

I yanked my wrists free from her grip, my eyes blazing. You betrayed your own sister.

“I know!” Tears welled in her eyes, spilling down her delicate cheeks. “I want to fix this. Let me fix this. Come away with me for the night. Just the two of us.”

I frowned, raising a single brow in silent question: Where?

“A private hotel suite downtown,” she offered eagerly, her eyes bright with desperation. “No family, no Adrian, no distractions. Just us. We can talk, drink, and repair what I broke. Please, Lucian… you’re my sister. Don't throw me away.”

Every instinct in my gut screamed at me to refuse. To push her out and lock the door forever. But as I looked at her tear-stained face, a faint, foolish memory echoed in my heart—a memory of two young girls sleeping side-by-side, sharing quiet secrets in the dark before the world got cruel.

Maybe people made unforgivable mistakes. Maybe, just maybe, a piece of my sister was still in there, begging for redemption.

After an agonizing silence, I gave a slow, hesitant nod.

Elena’s face transformed instantly, a bright, relieved smile bursting across her lips. “Thank you, Lucian! Thank you!”

In my exhaustion, I failed to notice how unnaturally fast her tears dried. I missed the cold, razor-sharp flash in her eyes as she turned away. And I certainly did not realize that stepping out of that house with her was the most fatal mistake of my life.

An hour later, we were seated in an opulent, secluded corner of a high-end hotel restaurant. Soft violin music drifted through the ambient warmth of the room. The table between us was laden with untouched food and two tall, crystal glasses filled with deep burgundy wine.

Elena chatted warmly, her demeanor completely restored to her lighthearted self. Seeing her act so attentive began to slowly ease the knot in my stomach. Perhaps I had been right to come. Perhaps this was the first step toward healing.

I picked up my glass, bringing it to my lips.

Elena’s eyes tracked the movement with terrifying intensity. “Drink it all,” she murmured, her voice strangely tight. “You’ve barely had a drop.”

I gave her a puzzled look, but lowered the glass and drank deeply to appease her, letting the bitter, fruity liquid coat my dry throat.

Minutes crawled by.

Then, without warning, the floor beneath me felt as though it slammed violently sideways.

I blinked, but my vision snapped into strange, elastic warps. The chandelier overhead stretched into ribbons of blinding white light. A deep, nauseating heat swirled violently in the pit of my stomach.

I pressed a trembling hand against my burning forehead, my breathing suddenly coming in ragged, shallow gasps.

“Elena…” I mouthed desperately, no sound reaching her.

She leaned back in her chair, watching me with cool, unbothered curiosity. “What is it?”

I tried to sign, but my fingers felt heavy, like lead weights. Something… is wrong. I’m so dizzy…

“You’re probably just tired,” she offered smoothly, making no move to help me.

No.

My heart began to hammer frantically against my ribs, heavy and irregular. The room span violently out of control. Terror, raw and primal, clawed at my chest. I tried to push myself up from the table, but my legs completely dissolved beneath me.

Elena reached out, catching my upper arm with a grip that was surprisingly firm—almost cold. “Easy now.”

I looked up at her through the hazy, darkening fog encroaching on my eyes. Her face was no longer filled with regret or warmth. It was smooth, triumphant, and utterly cruel.

What did you do to me? I tried to scream with my eyes.

She didn't answer. She simply smiled.

My vision caved into absolute darkness, and the world vanished.

When my eyelids fluttered open, the first thing that hit me was the sharp, overwhelming ache pulsing behind my temples.

I groaned internally, dragging myself toward consciousness. The air felt heavy, rich, saturated with an unfamiliar, intoxicating scent—like crushed cedar, winter rain, and dangerous, ancient power.

I pushed myself up on weak elbows, my eyes straining to adjust to the dim, grand room. High vaulted ceilings, heavy velvet drapes, an unfamiliar king-sized bed.

Where am I?

A soft, even breath rustled the sheets beside me.

My body went instantly, rigid as stone.

Slowly, agonizingly, I turned my head.

Lying beside me on the massive bed was a man. A complete stranger.

My heart slammed into my throat like a trapped bird. Who is he? What happened to me?

I snatched the thick silk duvet, pulling it defensively to my collarbone as I stared at him in sheer terror.

He looked nothing like Adrian. Where Adrian was soft and slender, this man was carved of broad, brutal perfection—golden-bronze skin stretched over sharp, dangerous muscle, dark hair falling wildly over a stern forehead. Even in deep sleep, an aura of terrifying, apex power rolled off him in waves.

Suddenly, his eyelids snapped open.

I gasped internally.

His eyes were not human. They were liquid silver—piercing, icy, and glowing with an impossible, otherworldly luminescence.

He pinned me with his gaze. For three agonizing seconds, time stopped completely. Neither of us dared to breathe.

Then, the man’s features shattered. His pupils dilated into massive black abysses. His broad chest heaved as his entire body went violently rigid, an intoxicating aura exploding into the room so fast it turned the air to fire.

Deep within his chest, a powerful, ancient force roared to life—a bond forged by fate, snapping into place with violent certainty.

Mate.

The word was never spoken aloud, but it echoed with thunderous clarity through every nerve ending in my body.

I stared back at the silver-eyed giant, paralyzed with terror as the horrifying realization hit me.

I wasn't in a hotel room. I had been delivered straight to the terrifying, legendary sovereign of our kind.

The Lycan King.