All Chapters of Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King: Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

TaraThe temple ruins loom before me, bathed in moonlight, the crumbling stone swallowing the bright glow. My breath catches as I step inside, the weight of unseen eyes pressing against my spine. I don’t want to be here, but Morgana wills it, and I have no choice but to obey.My fingers twitch at my sides, my hands already numb from the chill radiating from within me. I don’t belong in this place. It doesn’t want me here any more than I wish to be here, but I keep walking. Putting one foot in front of the other, going toward gods know what.In the heart of the ruins, half-buried beneath rubble and centuries of dust, lies the relic Morgana seeks. A jagged piece of polished bone, unnaturally smooth, carved with runes that pulse like a heartbeat. Dread curls through me as I reach for it with shaky hands.The moment my fingers brush the surface, a searing heat explodes through my skin. I gasp, biting back a scream, but I can’t let go. My hands burn like they’ve been set aflame, the pain s

NixieThe full moon lights up the sky as I make my way through the trees, my heart pounding with a rhythm that has nothing to do with the chill in the air.I don’t know why I’m doing this. Okay, that’s a lie, I totally do, but I’m not sure whether I should be doing this.I find Percy where I expected him to be, leaning against a fallen log, gazing up at the sky, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the moon.He looks peaceful, lost in thought, his strong features relaxed. But as I step closer, he tenses, his senses picking up my presence before his gaze finds mine."This is a pleasant surprise,” he says with a faint smile. “I know you’re not on patrol tonight. Couldn’t sleep?”I hesitate, arms wrapping around myself. "Something like that." I couldn’t, because thoughts of him kept swirling through my head. I’m not telling him any of that though. He pats the space beside him. "Come sit."I do, but not too close, keeping a careful distance between us. It doesn't stop me from feeli

TaraMy fingers twitch as the quill keeps inexorably scraping against parchment in slow, deliberate strokes. I’m not guiding it. Morgana is. The words spill from my hand in an ancient, curling script, their meaning veiled in shadow, but I know they’re not harmless. Nothing Morgana makes me do is ever harmless.Stop. Stop. Stop.I’m repeatedly screaming the word in my mind, but my body refuses to obey. My muscles burn from the effort of trying to resist, but it’s futile. Morgana has sunk her claws too deep, and I’m quickly losing myself in the darkness.“There we go,” Morgana croons, satisfaction dripping from every syllable. “Was that so hard, little puppet? It’s far less inconvenient when you don’t fight every step of the way, but it’s done now.”I gasp in shock as control returns in a rush, my trembling hand releasing the quill as if it was a live snake. The parchment in front of me bears a series of runes, intricate and foreboding, pulsing as if alive.“What did you make me write?

HildaThe war council is tense. I sit at the head of the long wooden table, beside Arlo, his broad shoulders stiff with contained frustration. Warriors and advisors flank us, their expressions grim as they take in the scattered parchment and aged maps before us.“Cerelia used her power to inspect the ruins and the seals are definitely weakening,” Soren states, his voice calm but edged with something wary. His sharp gaze flicks to me. “And it’s not natural decay. Someone is undoing them.”I exhale slowly, pressing my fingers against my temples. We already suspected as much, but hearing it aloud makes it real in a way I wish it wasn’t.The temple ruins have stood for centuries, forgotten, abandoned and dormant. Until now.Arlo folds his arms across his chest. “How certain are we that this isn’t just natural decay? And what exactly are the seals keeping in?”Cerelia looks up, shaking her head. “The magic woven into the seals isn’t something that time alone could unravel. The fact that th

HildaThe door swings open with a force that makes the hinges groan. Arlo steps inside, his presence filling the space like a storm rolling in, commanding and inescapable. His gaze pins me in place, burning with something dark and possessive, a promise of what’s to come. Before I can draw a breath, he’s in front of me, his fingers curling around my chin, tilting my head up so I have no choice but to meet his eyes.“Get on your knees,” he commands, his voice low, rough, absolute. Heat floods my body at the sheer authority in his tone. I obey without hesitation, sinking down before him, my breath coming in shallow gasps. The way he looks at me, hungry, worshipful, and yet so utterly in control, makes me tremble. He cups the back of my neck, his thumb grazing the sensitive skin behind my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.His touch is everywhere and nowhere at once, deliberate and devastating. He traces his fingers down my throat, his knuckles ghosting over my collarbone before hi