Fated To The Cursed Lycan King

"Gentlemen, feast your eyes on my beautiful daughter!" My dad's voice boomed, and several heads turned to look at me. "She carries the proud blood of an Alpha. The perfect wife for any deserving male!” Packmates stared as my father paraded me about like a product for sale. We were currently at the annual Werewolf and Lycan festival. To most, it was a celebration. To my dad, it was the perfect stage to parade my single ass around. "This is ridiculous," I hissed, yanking my hand back. He shoved me forward, straight into the path of the first interested male. My stomach dropped. I knew that face. My ex-boyfriend’s dad. A man a decade older than my own. Nausea burned up my throat when his gaze dragged slowly over me, and his lips curled, displeased. I refused to react or entertain this insult. “She’s twenty-five,” he sneered. “Old and unfit for breeding.” In our world, women were expected to be mated and mothers well before reaching my age. Twenty-five was ancient, a ticking clock marking me as expired. "She’s fertile and will give you powerful heirs," my dad pleaded, sounding desperate. “If she doesn't, I swear on everything I hold dear that I'll pay for damages.“ The pervert hummed in satisfaction, motioning that I turn around for inspection. I remained still. “She's arrogant and has a nasty glare. Perhaps that's why my dear boy dumped her.“ My dad's face darkened, humiliation creeping up his neck. I clenched my jaw, knowing any outburst would worsen things. Mr. Pervert walked away, but I barely had time to breathe before my stepmom swooped in, wearing a frozen smile. "Stop frowning, Marissa. No man wants a sulking wife. And you’re far too old to expect Prince Charming or even a half-decent mutt to rescue you now. No one wants leftovers.” "Thanks for the wisdom," I said flatly, giving her nothing to feed on. Cameras flashed. I turned away, well aware the photographers were hungry for a scandal. "Here’s the plan," Stepmom whispered, sounding annoyingly excited. "The Lycans will arrive soon. They’re rich. Find one, seduce him, use what little charm you have left.” My dad nodded approvingly. "Do as she says. And remember, no husband by twenty-six, no inheritance.” They walked away, hand in hand. I lingered at the edge of the festival, watching from the shadows as the celebration roared on. The left side of the hall swarmed with excited werewolves. The right remained empty and reserved for the Lycans. They were always late. Forty minutes crawled by. Then, the noise shifted. Chatter faded into hushed whispers, and heads turned. The Lycans entered as if the air itself bent to their presence. The temperature shifted. Their scents rolled in, refined and deadly. Their king led the procession, with his queen gliding beside him. Their jeweled outfits gleamed under the lights. Untouchable, their presence alone made the space feel smaller. And behind them, their son, Justin. The heartbreaker, rumored to be wild under the sheets and ruthless after. The golden boy with the devil’s smile. He collected lovers like some people collected fine art: admired, displayed, and discarded when something more enticing came. And still, women lined up, foolish enough to think they could tame him. He moved through the hall like he owned everyone. Dark hair, styled just right, framed his features. His shirt stretched across his chest, the top two buttons undone just enough to tease the tanned skin beneath. I forced myself to look away. I knew better than to let my gaze linger on someone so vain. He was the kind of male who would make you fall to watch how beautifully you shattered. Something shifted, and a force tugged at me. The intoxicating scent of cedarwood and rain slammed into my lungs, stealing my breath and yanking me forward. My wolf stretched inside me. I could barely breathe. Tiny beads of sweat covered my skin, and every inch of my body became alive with savage energy This was it. My mate. I wanted to scream and dance in celebration. After years of enduring loneliness and humiliation, my mate finally appeared. I waited. Any second now, he would turn. The bond would hit him the way it had just wrecked me. He would meet my eyes and know I was his, and he was mine, just as the moon intended. But he didn’t. His gaze skimmed past me, not even pausing. He strolled past me without a word, glance, or recognition. My lungs forgot how to work. The bond had shattered my world in one breath, yet I might as well have been invisible. Young females, styled in dyed fabric, strutted forward. Jingling with waist beads, they formed a circle, swaying their hips. The dance was a masterclass in seduction. A blend of culture and thirst trapping. They shot Justin, teasing smiles. His lips curled at the edges. His hazel eyes dragged over them like he was enjoying a fine vintage wine. My wolf snarled inside me, furious. She didn’t understand why our mate could ignore the pull. My chest clenched, and my breath turned shallow. This should have been the happiest day of my life. Instead, the moon goddess decided to bless me with an asshole.