All Chapters of Aurora and the ruthless Lycan king: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The morning after the strength trial arrived quietly, the sun filtering lazily through the silk curtains of Aurora’s chambers. A soft breeze teased at the edge of the fabric, brushing against her cheek like a whisper of a dream she couldn’t quite hold onto. She sat up slowly, sore muscles protesting as yesterday’s battle settled deep into her bones. The image of Emily’s face contorting in rage after defeat played again in her mind, followed by Theron’s voice announcing their team’s victory. But the celebration had ended with a strange emptiness. Her friends had disappeared with their mates soon after, and she had returned to her room alone. Now, as she made her way toward the dining hall, her boots thudding softly against the palace’s marble floors, she couldn’t help but feel the loneliness wrapping around her like a second skin. When she entered, the long room was nearly empty. She frowned. None of the girls were there. Of course they weren’t. They were probably still curled up

The morning sun filtered through the high windows of the grand dining hall, casting soft gold light across polished silverware and steaming platters of food. The palace staff moved with their usual grace—dishing out eggs, roasted vegetables, spiced meats—but the king didn’t touch a single bite. His eyes flicked once more to the entrance. Still no sign of her. Not that he was watching. Except… he was. He’d noticed immediately. No wild roses. No snow. No Aurora. His Beta, Gamma, and Commander were seated beside their mates, casual conversation carrying across the long table. Allie leaned into Mike’s shoulder, laughing quietly. Bella fed Kael a piece of fruit and rolled her eyes when he grinned smugly. Iris stirred her tea with a distant look, her smile faint. But there was one empty seat. The one beside him. The one meant for her. Aries’ jaw ticked. He stabbed a piece of meat but didn’t eat it. “She’s not coming to breakfast?” he asked, voice sharp enough to cut steel. Th

The days dragged on like lead weights chained to Aurora’s heart. Each morning since the confrontation with Aries, she had woken with the same knot in her chest. And each morning, she ignored it. No breakfast, no smiling friends, no long talks by the fire—just sweat, steel, and silence. The gym had become her refuge, the punching bags her outlet, the sparring mats her battlefield. Her knuckles were raw from where her gloves had slipped, her muscles ached, but none of it hurt as much as the empty ache in her chest. She had not seen the king in five days. Not that she wanted to. He hadn’t come to her quarters, hadn’t tried to speak to her again, and part of her was glad. But a bigger part—the part that still felt the bond humming beneath her skin—ached with every heartbeat. She hated that she still wanted him. Hated that she could still feel his presence in the castle like a fire she couldn’t put out. That was what made her decision easier. In two days, she would reject him. Her ma

The sun had barely set, but the courtyard blazed with light. Torches lined the walkways, their flames snapping in the breeze. A firepit roared in the center, its embers dancing like spirits in celebration — or warning. Crimson banners fluttered against the dark stone walls, catching the light like blood-soaked silk. And warriors lined the courtyard edges, standing silent and still in full formal attire, their polished armor glinting under the firelight. This wasn’t a feast. This was a declaration. And she would be the only guest. Aries adjusted the collar of his ceremonial black jacket. Gold trim ran along the shoulders and cuffs, his royal crest — a silver crown over a Lycan’s head — shining against his chest. A sword hung at his hip, untouched but gleaming. His boots were spotless. His face? Unreadable. But inside? He was unraveling. It had been nearly a week since he’d seen her. Five days of silence. Five days of aching. And now… he could feel her again. Not just her sce

The corridors of the palace had never felt so cold. Every torch, every silk-draped window, every marble column reminded me of her — wild roses and snow. It haunted me. She haunted me. For days I hadn’t seen her. Zeus was still silent. I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t focus. The bond tethering me to Aurora burned at my chest like an open wound — aching for her, needing her. I’d spent the day speaking with the servants, planning everything down to the detail: roses from the mountain she grew up beside, her favorite meal flown in from her pack, and a ballroom dressed in moonlight just for her. I was going to beg, if I had to. Just to get her to stay. But when I finally stood at her door, heart pounding harder than it ever had on a battlefield, I wasn’t prepared. She opened the door… and gods. There she was — messy bun, loose oversized t-shirt sliding off one shoulder, short shorts barely covering those soft thighs. No royal gown. No makeup. Just her. Aurora. Her scent h