All Chapters of The Lycan King's Hybrid Mate: Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

Rosalee's Point of View Sunlight filters in through the tall windows of Jensen’s, home office. Wel more like my office now, casting warm gold patterns across the hardwood floor. It still feels surreal, calling this space mine. The scent of pinewood and paper lingers in the air, blending with the soft floral aroma from the vase of fresh wildflowers Piper brought this morning. I sit behind the wide mahogany desk, a stack of papers and color swatches spread out before me. Across from me Piper and Nyx are sitting on their chairs. The desk between us is also cluttered with notebooks, pens, fabric samples, and half drunk cups of tea and coffee. Piper is the picture of calm elegance, her blond hair swept up in a loose braid, her expression thoughtful as she flips through a leather bound planner. Nyx, still recovering but already looking more like herself, lounges comfortably, one leg tucked beneath her, a mischievous glint in her eye as she teases me now and then. “You’ll need a bles

Rosalee's Point of ViewI stand in front of the full length mirror in the bedroom, smoothing the soft fabric of my dusty blue dress over my hips. The gown clings gently to my form, the color reminding me of the sky just before dusk, elegant, quiet, and full of promise. The floor length hem brushes the tops of my bare feet as I take a deep breath, steadying myself.My hair is already done, I did a waterfall braid adding some of the wildflowers at the ceremony into the braid. The rest I leave in long black curls cascading down my back like ink spilling over silk. I’ve left it mostly natural, soft, the way Jensen always says he loves it. I lean closer to the mirror, dabbing the last bit of gloss to my lips and checking my makeup one final time, subtle earth tones, a gentle shimmer on my eyelids, a touch of blush on my cheeks. I still look like me, just... a little more luminous.I step back and take myself in fully. For a moment, I barely recognize the woman staring back. She looks compo

Rosalee's Point of ViewThe run begins to slow as Jensen eases his pace, and the pack instinctively follows. The thudding of paws lessens, heavy breaths filling the air as we start to gather beneath the trees where the ceremony first began. My own breathing is deep but steady, my chest rising and falling with a pulse of energy that still crackles just beneath my skin. I feel alive, more than I ever have before. My limbs hum with strength, my soul sings with joy.I’ve never felt anything like this.The bond of the pack thrums around me like a heartbeat, and I know, this is where I belong.We slip into the cover of the trees, returning to the place where we first shifted. One by one, the others begin changing back, laughter and quiet chatter already picking up in the distance. I do the same, my body stretching and reshaping until I’m human once more, standing in the quiet of the woods.Quickly, I pull my dress over my head, the soft fabric falling around me as I smooth it down. I scoop

Rosalee's Point of ViewI sit across from Jensen in his office, the tray of breakfast between us on his desk. The scent of coffee and warm toast fills the air, but his fork moves slowly, distractedly, like he's only eating because he knows he should.I watch him for a moment in silence, the crease between his brows deeper than usual, his jaw tight as if he's holding back thoughts he doesn’t want to speak out loud.“Are you sure everything is fine?” I ask gently, not accusing, just wanting him to open up. “You still look... tense.”He pauses, his eyes meeting mine. For a second, I think he might brush it off again, but then he exhales slowly, setting his fork down with a quiet clink.“I don’t like these Lycan attacks on the werewolves,” he admits. “We just put an end to the attacks from the werewolves. Things were finally settling down. The pack’s recovering, starting to breathe again, and now this?”He shakes his head, frustration clear in the way his fingers tap against the edge of h

Rosalee's Point of View The sunlight pours in through the tall windows of the office, casting warm golden patches across the wooden floor. I sit cross legged on the rug in front of the coffee table, surrounded by open notebooks, fabric swatches, and clipped together mood boards. Piper is perched on the loveseat with a pen tucked behind her ear, flipping through a wedding binder she brought from her own Luna ceremony. Nyx sits beside me, sorting through a handful of flower samples, her fingers brushing over soft petals and fragrant herbs. There’s a low hum of excitement in the air, and I can’t help but smile as I glance around the room, my office now. It’s still strange thinking of it that way, but it fits. This space, once Jensen’s alone, now carries the soft, steady rhythm of women planning something beautiful together. “I was thinking,” I say, tugging a dusty blue swatch closer, “we could line the path to the lake with lanterns and pale blush flowers. Maybe baby’s breath and p