All Chapters of Omega Mate For The Lycan King : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Dakor The wine in my glass had grown warm at some point while Elder Thorne by my side droned on and on about territorial boundaries, his words becoming increasingly slurred as the evening progressed. I maintained the practiced expression of attention, though my patience wore thinner with each passing moment.“The northern clans grow bold, Your Grace,” Thorne continued, gesturing with his own glass and sending droplets of red wine splashing across the white tablecloth. “Last month’s incursion into our border territories cannot go unanswered.”“Indeed,” I replied, while my thoughts wandered elsewhere. The man’s concerns held merit, but his timing left much to be desired. Political discussions belonged in council chambers, not at celebrations where wine compromised judgment and loose tongues created unnecessary complications.My gaze drifted across the courtyard, seeking distraction from Thorne’s increasingly repetitive observations. The celebration stretched before me like an endura

Dakor The moment I found Raziela, relief slammed through me so hard, it almost knocked me off my feet. Her serving dress hung in complete tatters, the fine fabric that had transformed her appearance now reduced to strips that barely preserved her modesty. Dark stains marked what remained of the garment, while fresh cuts decorated her face and arms where branches had drawn blood during her desperate flight through hostile terrain.Her hair had come completely undone, wild curls framing features twisted with exhaustion and absolute terror. When she collided with my chest at full speed, instinct made my arms close around her. For one stolen moment, holding her felt like the most natural thing in existence. Her smaller frame fit so perfectly against me that it made something deep in my chest settle with dangerous satisfaction. The instincts that had plagued me for days roared to life with savage intensity, demanding that I keep her safe from whatever had driven her to such desperate f

Raziela “Easy, child.” Florence stood behind me, her medical bag in hand and exhaustion written across every line of her face. “I’m here to help.”Relief flooded through me so completely that I nearly collapsed. “Florence, thank goddess. Something’s wrong with her. She won’t wake up, and she feels so cold, and—”“Let me examine her,” Florence said softly, moving past me to the bedside.As the healer began her assessment, I studied her appearance more closely. She looked even worse than the first time I had seen her. The dark circles under her eyes had deepened into bruises, and her usually pristine appearance seemed disheveled. Most concerning was a long, angry cut running down her left forearm, barely concealed by her rolled-up sleeve.“Florence, your arm,” I said, concern overriding my focus on Enid for a moment. “You’re hurt.”She glanced down at the wound dismissively. “It’s just an accident. It gets crazy at the clinic most times. Nothing to worry about.”But the cut looked dee

RazielaThe sight of him made my steps falter. He looked completely different from the wild figure who had emerged from the forest last night, half naked. Now he was perfectly groomed and composed, his dark hair swept back, his clothes impeccable. He commanded the space with an authority that seemed as natural as breathing, his deep voice carrying easily across the room as he discussed matters I couldn’t quite follow.The transformation was so complete that for a moment I wondered if I had imagined the vulnerability I had glimpsed in his eyes when he placed Enid in my arms. This man looked incapable of such softness, too controlled and distant to show such raw emotion.I approached the table carefully, serving the Elder first, then Elliot, who gave me a small nod of acknowledgment. When I moved to serve the King, I became acutely aware of every movement, every breath.He didn’t look up as I placed the plate before him, continuing his conversation almost as if I wasn’t there. But when

DakorThe sight of her sleeping against the balcony chair stirred something deep in my chest, something I hadn’t felt in centuries. Her face had relaxed into peaceful lines, her wild midnight curls spilling over her shoulder like dark silk. Even in sleep, she still looked ethereal, she looked impossibly young, impossibly innocent, and the sight of it made my throat tighten.A smile touched my lips despite myself. When was the last time I had smiled at something so simple? When was the last time anything had moved me to such… softness?I reached out, unable to resist brushing a wayward curl from her face. The contact sent electricity racing through my fingertips and I welcomed the intensity to burn through me. As my hands drew back, I caught sight of the mark on her neck. That damned brand that marked her as a rogue.My jaw clenched involuntarily. The sight of it never failed to stir something violent in my chest. I hated it, hated even more whatever story was behind it, because it we