All Chapters of FERAL MOON: CLAIMED BY THE LYCAN KING: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The room smelled like shattered stone and restraint stretched to its limit.Ares still held Lyra against his chest, one arm locked around her back as if the world itself were trying to tear her away. His other hand was braced against the wall, fingers dug so deeply into the stone that cracks spiderwebbed outward.The guards froze.No one dared move closer.The bond roared between Ares and Lyra, no longer subtle. No longer patient. It throbbed like a living thing, furious at the interruption, furious at the distance forced between them moments ago.Lyra’s breath came in shallow gasps, her body still buzzing from where his mouth had hovered over her skin, from the promise that had nearly been sealed.Her knees trembled.Ares felt it.He tightened his hold instinctively, growling low in his chest, the sound vibrating through her bones.“Get out,” he said.His voice was calm.Deadly calm.The head guard swallowed. “My King… the Council ordered—”“I am not finished speaking,” Ares replied

Stone did not silence the bond.Lyra learned that within the first hour.The chamber Ares locked her inside was carved from moonstone and reinforced with ancient sigils glowing faintly silver along the walls. It was meant to contain beasts. To dampen magic. To suppress uncontrolled shifts.It did none of those things to her.She paced barefoot across the cold floor, breath uneven, fingers trembling as heat coiled tighter and tighter beneath her skin. Every heartbeat echoed too loud. Every sound outside the chamber carried too clearly.And every second without Ares made something inside her claw and rage.The bond pulled.Demanded.Her body leaned instinctively toward the door, toward where she could feel him… pacing… growling… fighting himself on the other side of the walls.She pressed her palm to her chest, gasping.It burned.Not pain exactly.Pressure.Like something massive inside her ribs was stretching, unfolding, demanding space.“Stop…” she whispered, sinking to her knees.Si

The Moon rose full that night.Not gentle.Not silver and soft like the stories promised.It was sharp. Bright. Watching.Lyra stood at the edge of the high balcony, bare feet against cold stone, her thin gown whispering in the wind. The fortress stretched behind her like a living thing, old and breathing, its walls humming faintly beneath her skin.She hadn’t slept.Every time she closed her eyes, she felt it… the pull. The quiet pressure in her veins. As if something ancient had stirred and was slowly stretching awake.Behind her, the doors opened.She didn’t turn.She didn’t need to.Ares’s presence slid over her senses like heat. Steady. Heavy. Anchoring.“They’ve finalized the rites,” he said quietly.Her fingers curled around the stone railing. “Tell me.”He joined her at the balcony, close enough that his arm brushed hers. The contact sent a shiver straight through her spine.“There are three trials,” he said. “They’re meant to measure worth… not survival.”She let out a breath

Lyra dreamed… but it was not sleep.It felt like falling inward.Not down… not forward… but into herself.Her body was weightless. Soundless. Endless black stretched in every direction, thick as velvet, pressing against her skin. She tried to breathe and found that breath was unnecessary here. Thought moved faster than lungs.“Ares…”Her voice echoed strangely, folding back on itself.The darkness stirred.Silver light seeped through the void, pooling beneath her bare feet. She looked down and realized she was standing on water that reflected the moon above… vast… impossibly close.The moon was not whole.It was cracked.Fractures of darkness ran through its surface like veins.“You carry the wound of the first blood.”The voice came from everywhere.From nowhere.Lyra spun around.A woman stood behind her.Tall. Regal. Terrifyingly calm.Her hair was long and pale, drifting as if underwater. Her eyes were pure silver, brighter than Lyra’s own reflection. Symbols burned faintly across

The training grounds were older than the kingdom itself.Lyra felt it the moment her bare feet touched the stone.The ground was cold… ancient… carved with symbols that pulsed faintly beneath the surface like a sleeping heart. Moonlight spilled down from the open sky above, bathing the circular arena in silver and shadow.No guards.No council.Only Ares.He stood across from her now, stripped of his crown and authority, dressed in simple black leather, sleeves rolled up, scars exposed without shame. His presence filled the space completely… controlled… coiled… dangerous.This was not the king.This was the Alpha.“You will not hold back,” he said quietly.Lyra swallowed. “I don’t know how not to.”“That is why we’re here.”He stepped closer.The bond stirred immediately… heat blooming in her chest… lower… deeper… answering him like instinct recognizing its match.Ares felt it too.His jaw tightened.“Look at me,” he commanded softly.She did.Gold eyes locked onto hers… glowing faint