Semua Bab Omega Mate For The Lycan King : Bab 11 - Bab 20

Dakor The dungeon air was cold. This wasn't the kind of chill that merely kissed the skin; it was a damp, penetrating cold that rooted itself deep in the marrow of your bones.I welcomed it. Let it seep in, let it freeze the turmoil in my blood.The guards that were previously slumped in bored postures, snapped to attention as my boots echoed on the stone floor. Of all the places in my fortress, this was by far, my favorite. There were indeed five prisoners all locked up in different cells. These were men who dealt in the currency of flesh and fear.My beast, the feral heart of me that I kept chained and starved, stirred in its cage. It stretched, snarling in approval. Finally. Something I could tear into without a shred of guilt.I stopped before the first cell, the stench of unwashed bodies and stale sweat, tickled the back of my throat. I met the guard's gaze and gave a single, sharp nod. "Open it."For the barest fraction of a second, he hesitated. Then, his training took over

Raziela He was even more massive up close, a terrifying mountain of a man. He was bare-chested, his skin slick with something dark and wet that dripped onto the ground.Blood. Fresh blood. The scent finally drifted into my nose, making my stomach churn with nausea. It coated his hands and arms, smeared across his chest and jaw. His claws, thick and black, were still half-extended, sharp talons that glinted under the moonlight. He looked more beast than man, his silver eyes gleaming with a cold, predatory light.A sneer twisted his lips, revealing a flash of sharp, white teeth. "I didn’t think you would be so foolish.” he purred, his voice a low, menacing rumble that vibrated through my bones. Tears welled in my eyes, hot and fast. “N-No," I stammered, clutching Enid tighter. "No, I wasn't... I wasn't trying to run. My daughter... she's sick." A tiny whimper came from the bundle in my arms. Enid shifted, her fevered body trembling.The King’s cold gaze strayed down, and a flicker

Raziela She came forward, her smile soft and genuine as she touched my arm. “She looks uncomfortable, come on. Let her lay down.” She said softly to me, as she led me into the room. I gently laid Enid on the bed, surprised she had not woken up from that long walk. “Thank you,” I whispered, Rose cleared her throat sharply, “Enough chatter. The week is half gone already so I can’t assign you a designated chore, so instead you’ll be assigned a new chore everyday, until Monday when you are more settled and can be properly assigned.” She finished, and I nodded rapidly. But Rose’ frown deepened. I couldn’t tell why, but I had a feeling the older woman didn’t like me. Maybe this was her way of making me suffer. But, chores didn’t bother me. I had done every chore in the world. It was all I did back at the BloodMoon pack. Wash sheets, scrub floors, cook, garden, just name it and I could do it. “Today your assignment is to clean the dungeons. I’ll put Mitchell in charge of you so she’ll p

Dakor The cool evening wind whipped across the balcony, but the cold air was not enough to ease the storm raging inside me. Below, the eastern courtyard lay silent and empty, shrouded in shadows just like it had been for years since her death. Everyone avoided this part of the compound and as much as I knew it was for the best, I still missed when the warriors would train in the courtyard below or when the servants roamed around, whispering and gossiping amongst themselves.I rested my hands on the cold stone railing. Even now, after scrubbing them raw, I could still smell the blood. Not the fresh, clean scent of a warrior’s kill, but the coppery, rotten smell of an old wound. It was a guilt that soaked into my skin and refused to leave.My hands, my kingdom, my soul—all of it felt stained.And with the arrival of this omega and her child, everything felt worse. A part of me, the part that had built this kingdom on blood and brutality, screamed that I had been a fool. I should have

Raziela The King’s compound hated me.I felt it in every step I took across its long roads. The chill that was constantly in the air wasn’t just from the cold, it always felt something deeper, like the place itself resented my presence. I wasn’t welcome here. I was merely tolerated.But tolerance was far better than torment. The servants treated me as if I were either invisible or contagious. Whispers followed me everywhere I went. Most simply ignored me, their eyes sliding right over me as if I were a ghost. But in a strange, twisted way, I was grateful. Their scorn kept them at a distance, and being left alone was a luxury I had never known.My mind often drifted back to the Bloodmoon Pack, to the life I had escaped. There, the abuse was a constant, physical torment. They called me “whore” and other names that burned like acid. Hands were always trying to touch me, to pull, to bruise. A spilled cup of water or a burnt piece of bread would earn me a beating. Here, the worst I had