The Tyrant Arrives
1643 Words
The night had never felt so long.
I did not sleep. I sat by the window, watching the moon sink lower, waiting for the dawn that refused to come. My heart would not stop beating fast. I could still feel his presence in the air—thick, heavy, and wild.
When a soft knock came at my door, I jumped.
“Abigail?” It was my father’s voice.
“Yes, Father,” I said quickly.
He opened the door. The lines on his face looked deeper under the weak light. “The king has arrived. He and his men are resting in the west wing. No one is to go near that side of the house.”
I nodded, but he wasn’t done.
“He asked for the pack’s guest list for tonight’s celebration,” he said.
I frowned. “Guest list? Why?”
“I do not know. He said he wants to know who was present when he arrived.”
My stomach twisted. “Father, do you think he suspects something?”
“He suspects everyone,” Father said simply. “He is a Lycan King. Trust does not come easily for their kind.”
I swallowed. “Then I will stay out of sight.”
“Good.” He gave my shoulder a quick squeeze. “Do not leave this room unless I call for you.”
When he left, I exhaled slowly. My wolf was restless, pacing inside me. I wanted to ignore her, but she kept whispering the same word.
Mate.
I pressed my hands against my chest. “You are wrong,” I whispered. “You have to be wrong.”
The morning sun had barely touched the sky when I heard movement outside. Footsteps. Deep voices. The sound of metal armor. I peeked through the curtain and saw them—tall warriors in black uniforms, moving like shadows. Their eyes glowed faintly, proof that they were Lycans.
Then I saw him.
He stood beside one of the dark vehicles, towering and broad-shouldered. His hair was black as midnight, his stance proud and unyielding. Even from here, I could feel the authority in him, the power that rolled off his body like a storm.
Raze Donalds, the Lycan King.
I had heard stories about him all my life, but none of them captured what it felt like to see him. His eyes were silver, sharp and cold. His presence was suffocating yet magnetic. He looked like someone who could destroy a kingdom and walk away without a word.
And when his gaze suddenly lifted toward my window, my breath caught.
For a moment, I thought I imagined it. But no—his eyes locked on mine, even from across the courtyard. My wolf howled inside me, a sound of recognition and longing I couldn’t silence.
I stepped back quickly and closed the curtain, my hands shaking.
“He saw me,” I whispered. “Oh goddess, he saw me.”
A knock sounded again, this time more urgent.
“Abigail!” Rebecca’s voice.
I opened the door. She rushed in, her face pale. “The king wants to see everyone.”
“What?”
“All pack members. Alpha Thomas just announced it. He said the king will address us before noon.”
I stared at her. “He cannot. I—”
“You have no choice,” she said softly. “Everyone is gathering at the hall.”
The world around me blurred. My wolf thrashed inside, a mix of fear and wild anticipation. I threw on a plain blue dress and followed Rebecca downstairs. The pack house was filled with people whispering, trying not to look afraid.
When we entered the hall, the air was thick with tension. The king’s guards stood in a straight line along the walls, their faces hard and unreadable. Then he entered.
The room went silent.
He moved like a shadow given form—graceful but deadly. Every step he took echoed across the floor. His black coat brushed against his boots, his eyes scanning every face without emotion.
My heart pounded as he passed close to where I stood. The scent of him hit me first—woodsmoke, pine, and something dark I couldn’t name. My knees felt weak. My wolf whimpered again.
He stopped before my father. “Alpha Thomas Reed,” he said, his voice deep and smooth, with an edge that made the air tremble.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Father said, bowing his head.
“I appreciate your hospitality,” the king said. “We will rest here for two nights before continuing north.”
“You are welcome here, my king,” Father replied.
Raze’s gaze swept the room again. “I was told tonight is your daughter’s celebration.”
My breath caught. He knew.
Father hesitated. “Yes, Your Majesty. The Moon Blood Ceremony.”
“I see,” Raze said. “Where is she?”
Every eye turned to me. My heart thudded so loud I thought everyone could hear it. Slowly, I stepped forward. “Here, my king.”
His silver gaze fixed on me. The moment our eyes met, something inside me snapped—like a string pulled too tight. My chest burned. My wolf howled so loud I nearly gasped.
Raze tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “You are Abigail.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I managed to say.
He took a step closer. The air grew heavy. I could barely breathe.
“You smell… different,” he said quietly.
My father stiffened. “She is just nervous, my king. Forgive her.”
Raze’s eyes never left mine. “Nervous,” he repeated, as if tasting the word. “Perhaps.”
He turned away then, breaking the spell. “Prepare the hall for dinner. My men will join the celebration tonight.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Father said quickly.
As Raze left the room, my legs finally gave out. Rebecca caught my arm. “Abby, you are pale.”
I tried to speak but couldn’t. My wolf was still howling inside, louder now.
Rebecca whispered, “What happened?”
“He looked at me,” I said, my voice shaking. “And it felt like the world stopped.”
She frowned. “You do not think—”
“No,” I said quickly. “Do not say it.”
She bit her lip. “But your scent changed. Everyone noticed.”
I turned to her, fear filling me. “Rebecca, if he finds out—if he realizes—”
She grabbed my hands. “Calm down. Maybe it was nothing.”
But I knew it wasn’t nothing. The bond was there, deep and unbreakable. I felt it every time I breathed. The goddess had tied me to the most feared man in the realm.
The day passed slowly. I avoided the west wing, avoided the guards, avoided everyone. But as night fell, I could not avoid him any longer.
The dinner hall was bright with candles. Music played softly, though no one dared dance. The king sat at the head table, his expression unreadable as he spoke quietly with my father. His twin brother Ares was beside him, smiling too easily.
I had heard of Ares before—the older twin, proud and charming, but overshadowed by his brother. His gaze met mine once, and I felt something cold there, something dangerous.
Rebecca nudged me. “Do not stare.”
“I am not,” I whispered, though my eyes betrayed me.
Raze looked up suddenly, as if he sensed my gaze. Our eyes met again, and the air shifted. Heat curled in my stomach. I looked away quickly.
Ares smirked. “It seems someone has caught your attention, brother.”
Raze did not answer, but his eyes lingered on me.
The meal went on in tense silence. I could barely taste anything. Every time I looked up, Raze’s silver eyes found mine.
When the last toast ended, he stood. “The moon is high. I wish to walk the grounds.”
My father bowed. “Shall I have guards accompany you?”
“No,” Raze said. “I prefer solitude.” His gaze moved to me again. “Miss Abigail, join me.”
I froze. “Me?”
“Yes.”
My father began to protest, but Raze’s look silenced him.
Rebecca whispered, “Be careful.”
I followed the king out into the night. The air was cool, the moon bright above us. My heart thumped so hard I thought it might break.
We walked in silence for a while until he stopped near the edge of the forest.
“Tell me,” he said without turning. “Do you believe in the Luna Goddess?”
I hesitated. “Yes, my king.”
He looked over his shoulder, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. “Then you know she does not make mistakes.”
I frowned slightly. “No, she doesn’t.”
“Then why do you look afraid of me?” he asked quietly.
I looked at him, my lips parting. “Because you are the Lycan King.”
He took a step closer, his voice lower. “And what does that mean to you?”
“It means you have power,” I said softly. “And power destroys what it touches.”
He studied me for a long time, then gave a faint, unreadable smile. “Perhaps you are right.”
When he turned to leave, I let out a shaky breath.
But just before he disappeared into the s
hadows, he said, “Sleep well, little wolf.”
My heart stopped.
Because when he said it, his voice wasn’t cold. It was possessive.
And deep inside me, my wolf whispered one word again—Mate.
- Writer
