All Chapters of Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King: Chapter 391 - Chapter 400

CereliaRaventon breathes differently than it did even a week ago. There’s suddenly magic everywhere. Old, fractured, and wild. I feel it shifting beneath my skin like a living thing.It crawls through the cracks in the pavement and hums beneath the shop windows. Something ancient has arrived, and the city is listening.I pace the perimeter of the garden behind the inn. A shield spell weaved from bone salt and nightshade keeps us hidden from prying eyes.Around me, the others move like shadows. Hilda leans against a wooden post, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. Soren sits on the garden wall, one foot dangling off the side like he doesn’t have a care in the world.“She’s burning hotter than she should be,” I say at last, stopping beside them. “Scarlett. Her magic is reacting to Loki like it recognizes him.”“Fucking Loki,” Hilda answers grimly. She doesn’t even try to soften the name. She spits it out shrouded in venom, doubtlessly hoping he’ll appear so she can try and take him down.Sore

ScarlettI feel him before I see him. A whisper in the weave of the world. A ripple in the air that skims down my spine like fingers. The shadows in the corner of the room seem to become tighter, richer, until they bleed into a shape.And then he’s there.Loki leans casually against the doorway of the sitting room like he belongs here. Like he hasn’t just broken through every ward Aunt Cerelia painstakingly wove around the house. He’s in black, of course. A sleek coat that flares behind him like smoke, sharp boots, a green silk scarf coiled around his neck.Always silk. Always smiling.“Scarlett,” he says, voice like poured honey laced with something darker. “You look... electric.”I don’t rise from the couch. I don’t flinch. But I do wrap my fingers tighter around the tea mug in my hands. It burns and I let it.“You know,” I say coolly, “most people knock.”“I’ve never been most people,” he replies with a lazy shrug. “Besides, I couldn’t very well ignore the call.”“There was no call

ScarlettI dream of velvet and green fire. When I wake, he’s sitting in the armchair by the window like he’s always belonged there.Loki doesn’t move when I bolt upright. Just watches me with the same infuriating calm as before, fingers steepled beneath his chin, expression unreadable in the shadows.“What are you doing here?” My voice is rough from sleep. Shame pricks my throat like thorns. I should’ve strengthened the wards again. Should’ve known this wasn’t over.“Dreaming of me opens doors,” he says mildly. “I just step through them.” I hate that he knows I’ve been dreaming of him. “That’s not how dreams work.”He shrugs, elegant and amused. “You of all people should know that’s not true. Your dreams are stitched with prophecy. And desire.”“I don’t desire you.” Loki rises, the movement slow and fluid, like liquid shadow. “No?” He walks toward the bed with no fear. “Then why haven’t you thrown me out yet? And why did you beg me to fuck you in your dream?”“I haven’t decided how vi

VictoriaThey watch me differently now.Not openly, not yet. But I catch it in the slant of a gaze, the way a stranger’s eyes linger just a second too long. Whispers follow me through Raventon’s narrow alleys and quiet bookshops, down the steps of Signe Christensen’s library, and into the echo of every enchanted room I leave behind.The world is beginning to feel me. They don’t know what I am. To them, I’m still just the gorgeous girl with good manners and a little crush on Erik Christensen. A lot to look at, but without an excess of substance.Easy to underestimate. Let them. Let them wonder why the air crackles when I pass. Let them think the flicker in the lamp was faulty wiring. Let them pretend they didn’t see the shadow pulse when I was angry. It’s safer that way. For them. And for me.Because I don’t entirely understand what I’m becoming. Only that it’s more.The magic is raw inside me, hungry and sharp, like a blade that grows teeth. Erik teaches me how to dull it. How to hold

ScarlettSomething is wrong with me.I feel it in my bones before I even open my eyes. Magic churns beneath my skin like molten glass, too thick, too hot, too much. My pulse trips over itself. The air crackles against my fingertips.It’s like my own power doesn’t recognize me anymore.I sit up slowly, wincing as sparks flare from my palms and vanish in the sheets. Erik is already up, somewhere downstairs. The scent of coffee mixes with lavender and something metallic. Something sharp.I slide out of bed, wrap myself in the blanket, and pad barefoot to the mirror. The girl who stares back at me is only me in theory.My eyes glow faintly. The veins near my collarbone shimmer like something just under the skin is trying to get out. I touch the mirror and it throbs.I jerk my hand back. No spell should be active on a plain surface like this. Not in our house. Not with the wards in place.Unless...I whip around and rush down the stairs. Erik’s in the kitchen, his hair still damp, mug in h