All Chapters of Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King: Chapter 531 - Chapter 540

IlsaI wake to the smell of blood.Not a scream. Not snapping branches. Just the sharp, metallic scent that hits me like a punch to the nose.I sit up instantly.My knife is already in my hand before I’m fully conscious, my heart pounding a silent war drum behind my ribs.The fire’s a slow smolder, barely more than embers now, and the forest is quiet. Not the good kind. Not the peace-before-dawn kind.The bad kind.The something-holding-its-breath kind.The others are still asleep. Scarlett and Erik curled together like flame and flint. Chris and Elliott tangled in the haphazard sprawl of lovers who don’t yet know they’re not alone.There’s no movement I can hear. No signs of a struggle that I can see.And yet the smell is overpowering in its intensity.That’s when I look down at my shoulder and find the origin of the scent.The fabric of my shirt is torn. Four long rips through the sleeve, frayed edges sticky with blood.The flesh underneath has barely been grazed, but unmistakably c

ScarlettI can’t stop shaking. Not on the outside. As far as everyone else is concerned I’m fine. Perfectly in control.No, the shudder is inside me. Quiet and coiled tight, like a snare trap under my ribs.It isn’t fear. It feels more like recognition.Whatever moved through the trees today wasn’t an animal. It wasn’t wildlife. It was a message wrapped in stillness. A warning whispered in silence.And when Erik said the eyes didn’t blink, that the thing didn’t even breathe, I knew it was watching me.Like it’s waiting for me to slip so it can move in. And gods help me, I think I already am.By nightfall the others fall into our usual routine. Fire, food, blades cleaned, salt wards laid in a broken ring.I go through the motions like I’m still in my own skin even though the flame crackling behind my ribs flickers icy-blue every few heartbeats.Every time it does, heat and chill surge together, leaving me feeling dizzy, hollow, full and off balance.Erik watches me the way a cliff watc

IlsaIt’s not a sound that wakes me. It’s the pause between them that grows longer and longer, before it suddenly disappears.The woods go silent all at once. There’s no breeze, no bird calls, no distant rustling. Just stillness so complete it feels intentional.Like the forest is holding its breath to hear better.I open my eyes, staying completely still. My boots are already tied and my knife is in its sheath at my side.If I know where the threat is, I’m ready to burst into action.The fire’s burned low. Chris and Elliott are curled up together nearby, legs tangled.Scarlett and Erik lie on opposite sides of the camp now, not touching, both pretending they’re asleep.And I’m lying here while my skin itches.Like something has been watching me sleep. Like it touched me again.I sit up slowly and slide my blade free from its sheath.The fog has returned. It’s thin this time, like it’s pretending to be harmless. Just regular old fog.I don't wake the others. Whatever is out there want

ChrisWe don’t talk about the stars.We don’t talk about the air that hums too loud, or the forest that folds tighter every time we blink. We don’t talk about the way my bones ache near the monoliths, or how the birds don’t sing anymore.We just walk.Elliott’s hand brushes mine for the third time in a mile and I take it.Because this place is fraying the edges of me, and he’s the only thing I trust to hold me together.When we stop for the night, Scarlett and Erik are scouting ahead. Ilsa offers to take first watch, leaning against a tree like a sentinel carved from dark wood and sharper instincts.I give her my dagger before Elliott and I wander off a short way, under the pretense of gathering firewood.We don’t go far.As soon as we’re out of sight, I grab his wrist and pull him behind a thick tangle of evergreens.He looks at me like he’s already burning.Like I’m the only thing that can touch him without unraveling the thread.And I kiss him like I need him more than I need air.

IlsaThe fog comes in low.We’ve seen it before, curling through the underbrush like it has somewhere to be. But this fog is denser. More deliberate.It muffles sound and sharpens every branch. By the time we realize it’s moved in, the forest is already fading into ghost-light shapes.“Keep close,” Scarlett says, fire magic shimmering faintly under her skin.Her eyes flash gold just once. But it’s enough to make Erik tense beside her.Chris and Elliott move like shadows. My wolf bristles beneath my skin, ears sharp for a snap or a footfall or something worse.But it isn’t danger that finds us.It’s him.The fog parts like a curtain, just enough to show the silhouette of a figure stumbling forward.He’s tall, too thin, and bleeding. There are dark stains blooming across his ribs and down one arm. His shirt is torn nearly in half, and his hair hangs damp across his cheekbones.But it’s his eyes that stop me.They’re silver. Not like mirrors. Like starfire.He sees us, and when his gaze