All Chapters of The Lycan King’s Hidden Male Omega: MM Romance: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

193 Chapters

The Marital Bed

[Elian’s POV]News in the servant’s quarters travels faster than a mountain fire.I was sitting in the corner of the kitchens, peeling a mountain of potatoes with my left hand while Martha quietly hummed by the hearth, when the head servant marched in. He slammed his wooden cane against the stone floor, demanding absolute silence."The Alpha has made his decree," the beta announced, his chest puffed out with self-importance. "The engagement period is shortened. King Cillian will marry Princess Selene on the night of the next full moon."The kitchen erupted into a flurry of panicked whispers. The next full moon was less than a week away.I didn't stop peeling. The sharp paring knife slipped, slicing a shallow cut into the pad of my thumb. I watched a drop of my blood mix with the dirty potato water, feeling absolutely nothing.The Warlord King had made his choice. Whatever conversation he had with Selene after seeing my crushed hand had worked perfectly in her favor. He had chosen his

The Ticking Clock

[Elian’s POV]The arrival of the Silver Fang army sounded like the end of the world.I stood in the shadows of the scullery, listening to the deafening, rhythmic boom of war drums echoing through the valley. Through the narrow, iron-barred window near the ceiling of the kitchens, I watched five thousand pureblood Alpha soldiers march into the Blackwood courtyard. Their armor was polished silver, catching the pale winter sunlight, and their banners—a white wolf on a blood-red field—snapped violently in the freezing wind.The castle no longer felt like Cillian’s stronghold. It felt like an occupied prison.Tomorrow was the full moon. Tomorrow was the wedding."Feral!"The sharp crack of the head servant’s cane against the stone wall made me flinch. I turned, my left hand instinctively coming up to protect my chest."Wash your hands," the beta sneered, looking at my dirt-stained rags with utter disgust. "The Princess is having her gown fitted in the solar. The seamstresses require an extr

The Silver Fang Banquet

[Elian’s POV]The Great Hall no longer belonged to the Warlord King.It had been entirely consumed by the Silver Fang. Hundreds of pureblood Alpha commanders and generals filled the long oak tables, their heavy silver armor clanking against the wood, their raucous laughter echoing off the vaulted ceilings. The air was suffocating, choked with the smell of spilled ale, roasted meats, and the aggressive, territorial musk of a foreign army that knew it had already won.I was drowning in it.I moved through the narrow spaces between the tables, carrying a massive iron tureen of boiling, spiced stew. My right hand was still tightly bound in Martha’s white linen, tucked uselessly against my stomach. I was supporting the heavy, scalding iron pot entirely with my left arm and my hip. My muscles trembled violently, slick with cold sweat.At the high table, Cillian sat perfectly rigid. He wore the crown, but he looked like a prisoner of war. Selene sat beside him, her hand resting possessively

The Cold Infection

[Elian’s POV]The boiling stew had cooked the skin of my legs right through my coarse wool trousers.By the time the head servant finally allowed me to retreat to the scullery, the blisters had already formed—angry, swollen pockets of fluid that stretched the raw, red skin across my shins and thighs. I didn't have bandages. I didn't have salve. I only had the freezing, dirty water from the kitchen basin, which I poured over my legs in the dark of my cell, biting down on my ruined lip to keep from screaming.That was yesterday.Today, the cold infection set in.It started as a deep, rattling ache in my bones. The damp, freezing air of the scullery, which had been my constant enemy, suddenly felt like it was inside my veins. I lay curled on my rotting straw pallet, my teeth chattering so violently I thought they would crack. My right hand, still bound in Martha’s linen, throbbed in time with my racing heartbeat. But it was my legs that were killing me. The burns had turned a sickly, weep

The Secret Vigil

[Cillian’s POV]The mate bond did not break with a loud snap. It began to dissolve like sugar in freezing water—a slow, agonizing fading of light that left a hollow, echoing void in the center of my chest.I was sitting in the dark of my study, a half-empty bottle of Blackwood whiskey in my hand. I was trying to drown the memory of Elian kneeling in the grease, kissing General Kael’s boot. I kept telling myself I hated him. I kept telling myself he was a coward, a feral beast, a liar.But then, the golden thread connecting my soul to his gave a violent, sickening shudder.My inner Lycan slammed into the cage of my ribs, letting out a panicked, blood-curdling howl that echoed only in my mind. The bond flickered. The icy wall Elian had built to keep me out was gone, but it wasn't replaced by warmth. It was replaced by an absolute, terrifying emptiness.He is dying.The glass whiskey bottle slipped from my hand, shattering against the stone floor.I didn't think. The Warlord King, the tr

A Miracle

[CILLIAN P.O.V]Slowly, miraculously, the violent trembling began to ease.His breathing deepened, losing the wet rattle. The sickly pallor of his skin began to flush with the faintest hint of life. The Alpha blood was hunting down the infection, burning it out of his veins.I let out a shuddering breath, resting my forehead against his temple, too exhausted and broken to move. I just held him in the dark, completely surrendering to the devastating truth: I loved him. Traitor or not, feral or not, I loved him so deeply it was tearing me apart.Elian stirred against my chest.The fever had broken, but he was entirely delirious. His amber eyes fluttered open, glassy and unseeing. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know the Warlord King was holding him in the dirt."No..." Elian whimpered softly, a sound of pure, unadulterated terror that made my blood run cold. He tried to curl away from me, his left hand weakly coming up to protect his head."Shh, you're safe," I whispered frantica

The Cloak of Thorns

I woke up expecting to be dead.Instead, I was drowning in the scent of pine needles, rain on dry earth, and deep, strong Alpha heat.I opened my eyes, the dim morning light of the small room piercing the darkness. My body felt incredibly heavy, but the violent, shaking shivering was gone. The painful, burning heat of the mountain fever had been completely burned out of my body. There was a lingering, metallic taste on my tongue—the clear, heavy taste of pureblood Lycan blood.I shifted on the rotting straw bed. I wasn't freezing.I looked down. Wrapped tightly around my shoulders, covering me in its massive, fur-lined folds, was a heavy black velvet cloak. Pinned to the collar was the silver crest of the Blackwood Warlord.My breath caught in my throat.It wasn't a dream. The heat against my back, the blood on my lips, the voice whispering I've got you in the dark—it was real. Cillian had come down into the dirt. He had taken off his armor, bled for me, and wrapped his own royal cloa

The Pre-Wedding Hunt

[Elian’s POV]

The Alpha’s Arrow

[Cillian’s POV]I did not care about the hunt. I did not care about the Silver Fang generals or the elaborate, bloody pageantry of my own wedding day.As I rode my massive black warhorse through the freezing Blackwood forest, my entire existence was whittled down to a single, agonizing focal point: the sound of Elian’s erratic, terrified heartbeat echoing through the trees ahead of me.My inner Lycan was clawing at the walls of my skull, screaming at me to break formation, tear through the brush, and wrap him in my cloak again. But I was surroun

The Broken Trust

[Cillian’s POV]"Please, Alpha... don't shoot me again. I'll stay out of your way. I swear... just let me die."The words did not simply break my heart; they ripped it from my chest, threw it onto the freezing earth, and crushed it into dust.I remained frozen on my knees in the blood-soaked snow. My hands, still raised and reaching for him, shook violently. I was the Warlord of the Blackwood. I had butchered hundreds of men on the battlefield. I had bathed in the blood of rogue Alphas without blinking. But looking at the sheer, unadulterated terror in my mate’s beautiful amber eyes—terror directed entirely at me—completely paralyzed my soul.He thought I had executed him for her.Before I could force a single, agonizing word of denial past my lips, the treeline violently exploded.Dozens of elite Alpha lords, Silver Fang generals, and Elder Silas burst into the clearing on horseback, their hunting horns silencing the forest. They pulled hard on their reins, their massive warhorses sno

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