บททั้งหมดของ Rejected: The Lycan's King Fated Mate : บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

Silence. That’s what five thousand warriors sound like when a five-year-old Lycan pup growls. Elias stood between Kade and Darius, his silver-white fur bristling, puppy teeth bared. He was the size of a regular wolf pup, but his eyes… His eyes were a King’s. Darius’s eyes. "Impossible," Kade whispered, staggering back in the snow. His claws retracted. Even his Alpha aura shriveled. "Lycan pups… they were extinct. The bloodline died with—" "With me?" Darius rose to his feet, slow, lethal. He didn’t look at Kade. He only had eyes for the pup who just saved him. "You thought I was the last, didn’t you, Kade? The last monster. The last mistake the Moon Goddess made." Darius knelt again, holding out his hand. Elias didn’t hesitate. He trotted forward and pressed his wet nose to Darius’s palm. "He’s not a mistake," I said, stepping to stand beside my mate, my son. My voice didn’t shake. My Lycan didn’t hide anymore. "He’s a miracle. *Our* miracle." Elias yipped, as

The cheers hadn’t even died when I felt it. Stares. Cold. Calculating. Cutting through the celebration like knives. I was still in Darius’s arms, Elias giggling between us, my stomach buzzing where our Lycan daughter kicked after the bond sealed. We were supposed to be safe. We were supposed to be home. “Don’t look,” Darius murmured against my ear, but his body was already tense, his claws digging into my back. “Don’t let them see you afraid.” I looked anyway. The Lycan Council sat on the raised dais, untouched by the celebration below. Seven of them. Seven elders who’d ruled in Kade’s shadow for decades. Seven pairs of ancient eyes fixed on me and my son like we were a disease. Elder Mara stood first. She was older than Darius, her silver hair braided with bone, her face carved with runes of authority. “The ceremony is concluded,” she announced, voice echoing over the courtyard. Every howl, every cheer died instantly. “And so the Council must speak.” My blood ran cold

I should have died last night. Instead I was standing on a raised stone platform in the center of the Great Hollow, bloodied bandages wrapped around my Lycan shoulder, my unborn Lycan daughter kicking against my ribs like she was trying to remind me she was still here. And ten thousand eyes were on me. The Gathering. Every pack, every realm. Wolves, Vampires, Fae, and Lycans who hadn’t seen each other in 200 years had come. All to see if the new Lycan dynasty would live or die. Darius stood to my right, silver Lycan blade at his hip, hand hovering close to mine like he’d bolt in front of me the second anyone moved wrong. Elias was on my left, small but unshaken in his ceremonial black, chin high, silver Lycan eyes scanning the crowd like a king who’d been born for this. He was. The air smelled of rain and old Lycan magic and fear. Elder Mara’s body had been removed before dawn, but her blood still stained the courtyard stones. The pack hadn’t forgotten. “Begin,” Dari

Dawn came cold and silver. The Moon Field was ancient ground. Sacred to wolves and Lycans both. Where challenges were made, bonds were broken, and blood decided truth. I stood in the center with Darius and Elias flanking me. Kade stood across from us with his three Alpha enforcers and the two traitor elders. Between us: 50 paces of frost-covered grass and 5 years of hate. He looked different in the morning light. Smaller somehow. Like seeing me as Lycan had stripped away his Alpha arrogance and left just a scared wolf. “You don’t have to do this, Elara,” he said, voice low enough that only we could hear. “Call it off. We can talk.” I tilted my head. “Talk about what? How you rejected me for being wolfless? How you called my son a mistake? How you didn’t even know I was pregnant?” His jaw clenched. “I didn’t know. If I had—” “If you had, what?” I cut him off. “You would have kept me? Used me? Claimed my Lycan heir as your own?” Darius stepped forward, Lycan power rollin

One week later. The Citadel didn’t smell like blood anymore. It smelled like incense, moonflowers, and the promise of a new beginning. The broken Moonstone had been replaced with a new one. Clear crystal, carved with the ancient Lycan runes, pulsing faintly with silver light. The Council Chamber had been renamed the Throne Room. And the high dais that used to hold six old fools now held one throne. Mine. The coronation had to happen fast. The packs were restless. The other realms were watching. And I was 4 months pregnant with a Lycan heir who kicked every time someone bowed too low. “You’re sure about this?” Darius murmured, adjusting the silver Lycan crown on my head. It was heavy. Ancient. Made for a Queen who’d been dead for 300 years. I looked up at him and smiled. He was in full Lycan ceremonial armor, black and silver, Elias at his side in a miniature version that made my heart ache. “More sure than I’ve ever been,” I said. “I was born for this, Darius. Even when Ka