All Chapters of Accidentally Marked By The Lycan King: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Alara’s POVThe room was quiet in a way that felt sacred.Moonlight spilled through the tall windows, silvering the stone walls and pooling softly over the bed where I sat, back supported by pillows, my children cradled against me. One at each breast. Their tiny fingers curled instinctively into the fabric of my gown, their mouths warm and sure, drawing life from me as if the world beyond this moment did not exist.For them, maybe it didn’t.Lucian, my son, nursed greedily, strong even now, his small brow creased in fierce concentration. On the other hand, Artemis, my daughter, was gentler, slower, her lashes fluttering as if she were half-dreaming while feeding. Every so often, she paused, her little hand flexing against my skin as though reminding herself I was still there.I exhaled shakily. I was still here, lost in my own thoughts.The door creaked open.I didn’t look up at first. I knew the footsteps, measured and familiar. Ronan stopped just inside the threshold, hesitation hea

Alara’s POVThree years.Sometimes the number felt unreal, a shallow vessel too small to hold the sheer volume of everything we had survived. Time no longer moved in the sharp, panicked fragments. Here, on this neutral soil, it flowed. It was slow, rhythmic, and safe like the steady sigh of the wind through the tall silvergrass that guarded our borders.I stood at the edge of the veranda, my bare feet pressed against the cool, sun-drenched stone. The air smelled of damp earth and blooming jasmine, a peace so profound it almost felt like a dream I was afraid to wake from. Below me, in the sprawling green of the meadow, Ronan was crouched in the grass with Lucian and Artemis.Watching them was a study in contradictions that often left my heart aching.Lucian was laughing a bright, unrestrained sound that echoed off the stone walls of the estate. His dark curls, so much like his father’s, fell into his eyes as he attempted, with terrifying seriousness, to imitate Ronan’s combat stance.

Alara’s POVIt happened in the middle of laughter.That was what shattered me the most.Lucian had been chasing Artemis across the lawn, their small feet thudding against stone and grass, their laughter ringing bright and careless through the air. Ronan stood a short distance away, arms crossed, watching them with that quiet fondness he never tried to hide. I had been seated on the terrace steps, half-distracted, folding tiny clothes that somehow never stayed folded.Artemis stumbled.At first, it looked harmless, a misstep, the kind all children made. Lucian skidded to a halt, turning back with a grin already forming.“Artie—”She didn’t get up.She crumpled.No warning. No glow. No crescent surge.Just… down.My breath left my body in a soundless rush.I was on my feet before I remembered standing, the world narrowing until there was only my daughter on the ground. Her small body lay unnaturally still, lashes fluttering, lips tinged faintly pale.“Artemis!” I dropped to my knees, ga

Xavier’s POVThe summons made no sense.Ronan did not call meetings lightly, certainly not on neutral land, and never without reason grave enough to justify offending every Alpha who still believed territory equaled power. The property itself was isolated, shielded by layered wards and natural barriers, quiet in a way that set my Lycan pacing restlessly beneath my skin.For three years, Marcus and I had been a singular engine of wreckage. The world knew me as the King of Ashes, a ruler forged from grief and violence, a king who governed through fear and executioner’s pikes. I had built a kingdom on bones because it was easier than acknowledging the hollow rot inside my chest.I had forgotten the feel of sof

Alara’s POVThe infirmary smelled like antiseptic and quiet resolve.Soft lights hummed overhead, muted to avoid overstimulating Artemis’s fragile senses in the adjacent room. This room was small, functional with white walls, silver instruments, the steady rhythm of machines that measured life in numbers and beeps. Dr. Vane had chosen this space deliberately. It was controlled, isolated, and safe.As safe as any place could be, given what we were doing.Xavier sat on the narrow infirmary bed, his broad frame almost too large for it. The IV lines ran from his arm to the transfusion unit, dark crimson blood flowing steadily through clear tubing, his blood that was destined for our daughter.Dr. Vane had already done the cross-match. It came out to be positive. She hadn’t looked surprised. Not even a little.“This was expected,” she’d said calmly, like she was discussing weather patterns instead of unraveling the last fragile threads of my reality. “The incomplete Lycan bonding in Artemi