The Lycan King's Outcast Omega
The bond hums at the edge of sense, alive inside my skin, a low thrum of anticipation.
Lyra leans back against the stone wall, letting her head rest, her eyes closed. Her red hair is wound up in elegant braids, but already stray strands tumble from their pins. Kieran’s ceremonial robes look like they itch, and he’s pulling at the collar, exposing the pale column of his throat. The mark I left there at the bonding ceremony is healing nicely—two neat, silver crescents above his pulse. I want to see it bruised again, to taste it.
I cross the room in three steps, hook my finger beneath his chin, and tilt Kieran’s mouth to mine. He tastes of nerves and honeyed mead, and he leans into the kiss hun