All Chapters of The Lycan King's Outcast Omega: Chapter 211 - Chapter 220

Alexander I’ve spent the entire day in bed with Lyra in my arms and I’ve never been more at peace. As twilight deepens outside the windows, we lie tangled together in comfortable silence. My fingers trace idle patterns on her bare shoulder while her head rests on my chest, directly over my heart. The bond between us hums with contented warmth, stronger and more stable than it's been since the temporary healing at the Cave of Whispers."The power surges have stopped," I observe quietly, realizing I haven't experienced a single manifestation since we came together.She props herself up on one elbow to look at me, her hair falling in a curtain around her face. "The intimate connection strengthened the bond's stability," she explains, unable to completely suppress her healer's analytical tendencies even now. "It's not permanent healing, but it's significantly reinforced the temporary measures."I can't help but laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Only you would provide a tech

KieranMira and I sit in silence for a while, watching stars appear one by one in the darkening sky. The distant sounds of palace life—guards changing shifts, servants carrying out evening duties—remind me how far we are from the simplicity of our forest home."I slept with someone else," I admit suddenly. "After Lyra left with Alexander that first time. One of the refugees from the northern settlement."Mira raises an eyebrow but doesn't interrupt."I thought it would help," I continue. "Thought maybe if I could just be with someone else, these feelings would fade or change or..." I shake my head. "It didn't work. Just made me feel worse, actually.""Because you were using them to try to forget Lyra," Mira points out. "That never works.""I know that now." I run a hand through my hair in frustration. "Gods, I'm a mess.""Yes, you are," she agrees with characteristic bluntness. "But that doesn't mean you can't figure your shit out."A sudden flush of anger rises in me. "Easy for you to

Lyra The royal sanctuary glows with morning light filtering through its glass walls, illuminating Queen Sage as she tends to rare plants with her own hands rather than delegating the task to servants. She looks up as I enter, a knowing smile touching her lips."Lyra," she greets warmly. "You look well this morning."Something in her tone tells me she's perfectly aware of why I might look "well," and I feel heat rise to my cheeks again. "Thank you for inviting me, Your Majesty.""Sage, please," she corrects, setting aside her gardening tools. "At least when we're alone. We're family now, after all."The casual acknowledgment of my place in her son's life—in the royal family—leaves me momentarily speechless. I've been so focused on the complications of court politics that I hadn't fully considered the simpler truth: I've gained not just a mate but a family connection.I kneel beside the spiral pattern of silver-blue blooms she’s tending, assessing their condition with a healer's eye. "T

Alexander"They found her, but she's not exactly rolling out the welcome mat."Dominic drops a report on my desk, interrupting my third attempt to write a diplomatic response to the Northern territories. I've been staring at the same paragraph for twenty minutes, my mind constantly drifting back to last night with Lyra."Vega's niece?" I ask, pushing aside the draft to read the new report."Karina," he confirms, dropping into the chair across from me. "Lives in a tiny settlement called Blackstone Ridge at the edge of the Northern territories. Our messengers found her, but she told them—and I'm quoting directly here—'to go fuck themselves and the royal horses they rode in on.'"I can't help but laugh. "Sounds like she inherited her aunt's charming personality, if not her politics.""She's a healer," Dominic continues, "which makes her refusal more complicated. She's not just rejecting royal authority; she's rejecting what she sees as interference in healer business."I lean back in my c

Kieran"Hold still or I'll accidentally stab you with this pin."I glance down at the tailor kneeling by my legs, his mouth full of pins as he adjusts the formal tunic that supposedly makes me look like a respectable court representative instead of a forest healer way out of his depth."How much longer is this torture going to last?" I ask, resisting the urge to scratch where the stiff fabric chafes against my neck."Beauty requires suffering," the tailor mumbles around his pins."I'm aiming for 'not embarrassing' rather than beauty," I correct him, which earns me a dismissive snort."The prince was most specific about the quality of your attire," he replies, expertly pinning a seam. "Royal blue with silver accents to complement Lady Lyra's ensemble while marking you as an official representative of the healing community."The thought of Alexander personally selecting my outfit for tonight's dinner is equal parts amusing and unsettling. Twenty-four hours ago, I'd have bet good money th