Semua Bab The Kings Omega: Bab 1 - Bab 10

Flora’s world was the size of a small, cramped room in the omega quarters of the Silver Creek pack. The air always smelled faintly of herbs and drying laundry, a testament to the endless chores that filled her days. As an omega, her life was one of service, of quiet invisibility. Her wolf was small, timid, and content in the background, a stark contrast to the vibrant spirits of the higher-ranking wolves.Today, however, a different scent filled the room—the sharp, cloying smell of sickness.Her older sister, Lena, lay curled on their thin pallet, her body wracked with tremors, her skin clammy. A fever, the pack healer had called it, a nasty one that required bedrest. But today was not a day for rest. Today, Lena was supposed to be in service at the Royal Castle. The Silver Creek pack, like all others, paid tribute to the crown not just in gold and resources, but in labor. A rotation of their best omegas and betas served the castle staff for a month at a time. It was a great honor, on

The world seemed to hold its breath. The fine white flour dusted the air like a fragile, temporary snow, settling on the dark stone, on Kaelen’s imposing shoulders, and in Flora’s wild, tangled hair. The electric jolt of his touch on her cheek lingered, a phantom warmth that spread through her entire body, a stark contrast to the cold fear that gripped her heart.Mate. The word was a relentless drumbeat in Kaelen’s skull, a truth so profound it shook the very foundations of his being. But layered on top of that primal, undeniable joy was a thick, suffocating blanket of horror. An omega. Not just any omega, but a terrified, scullery maid omega, so low in the hierarchy she was practically invisible. The sheer, staggering political impossibility of it crashed down on him with the force of a physical blow. He could feel the shocked, disgusted whispers of the council already, see the smug, knowing look on Elder Thorne’s face. A Varek king mated to an omega? It wasn't just a scandal; it was

Flora fled, not walking but running through the labyrinthine corridors until she was safely back in the chaotic anonymity of the scullery. The world of boiling pots and shouting chefs had never felt so much like a sanctuary. She slipped back into her station, her movements mechanical, her mind replaying the encounter in the corridor on a torturous loop.His scent. It was everywhere. It clung to her uniform, a phantom presence that made her dizzy. It was in her lungs, on her skin. Her wolf was still whining, a pitiful, confused creature that couldn’t understand why they had run from their other half. But Flora, the human part of her, was screaming in terror. He was the King. She was nothing. An imposter, a stand-in for her sister. If he found out, if he discovered the deception, she wouldn’t just be sent back to Silver Creek in disgrace; her entire family would be punished. Her sister, sick and vulnerable, would pay the price for her foolishness.“Where in the seven hells have you been

The scent of her was a poison. A sweet, insidious poison that Kaelen couldn't purge from his system. It had been two days since the encounter in the corridor, two days of pacing his study, of barking orders at his council, of staring blankly at maps while his senses were completely consumed by the ghost of lavender and rain. He was a king on the verge of madness, his wolf a relentless, snarling drumbeat against his ribs.Ronan’s reports had been concise, professional, and utterly infuriating. Flora of Silver Creek. Nineteen. Assigned to the scullery under the tyrannical Chef Gregor. Keeps to herself. Scared of her own shadow. It was a portrait of weakness, a confirmation of his worst fears. And yet, the description of her daily life—a litany of minor cruelties and endless, thankless work—had stirred a possessive fury in him that was both shocking and undeniable.He was trying to focus on a trade dispute with the coastal packs, but his mind kept wandering. He kept picturing her small h

Valen stood in the shadows of the colonnade, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture rigid. He was watching the Princess. Isolde. His mate. The word was a curse on his soul, a brand of fire that connected him to the one family he had sworn to despise. He had taken the position of Captain of the Guard not out of forgiveness, but out of a cold, calculated need for vengeance. He wanted to be close. He wanted to watch Kaelen Varek rule, to see his successes and his failures, to be a constant, living reminder of the debt that could never be repaid.But watching Isolde was a different kind of torture. She was so different from the girl he used to torment. She was no longer a princess brat, but a woman of quiet strength and formidable intelligence. He saw her in the library, her nose buried in a book. He saw her walking in the gardens, her expression thoughtful. He saw the sadness in her eyes, a loneliness that mirrored his own, and it stirred something in him he had long thought dead