The Lycan King’s Claim

Chapter 2

-Elaine-

Three hours.

Three agonizing hours until I would be bound forever to a man whose face I had seen only today.

The thought clung to me like a shadow I couldn’t shake. Every heartbeat screamed Bran’s name. How would I face him? What could I possibly say? What would he feel seeing me… with Kave?

A low, smooth voice cut through my storm of thoughts.

I blinked. My gaze lifted.

Kave stood beside my father, towering and unyielding.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Elaine.”

His tone was deep, calm, velvet-laced, yet carrying authority that made my chest tighten. And his eyes… molten amber, unwavering, locking onto mine.

I croaked out a hoarse, “Hello.”

Up close, he was even more imposing. At five foot six, I’d never felt small — until now. Next to him, I might as well have been glass.

My father nudged me forward. Hesitant, I placed my hand in Kave’s. Warmth surged through me like an electric current. I startled, meeting his eyes — a ghost of a smile brushed his lips, fleeting and inscrutable.

“I think we’ll suit each other,” he said softly, inclining his head toward my father. His grip tightened slightly. My breath hitched.

“I’ll see you at the ceremony,” he added, eyes deliberate, sweeping over me before turning to join the council.

My father kissed my forehead — tender, final — and guided me toward the door. “Go find Harah. She’ll help you prepare.”

Harah. A second mother ever since hunters had taken my real one years ago.

For a wild, reckless moment, I imagined running. Vanishing. But where? Any path would lead me back. No car, no safe haven, no plan.

The rest of the day blurred. I whispered my doubts to Harah, who hushed me with soft reassurances: this was for the pack’s good. Mated to an Alpha meant standing, protection, comfort. Her words spun around me like a net I couldn’t escape.

More than anything, I longed to find Bran. To feel his arms, to hear his voice, to steal one last moment before it was all ripped away. But it was forbidden. No time, they insisted. Excuses, all of them. And soon, I would be seated beside a stranger.

⸻

The hall stretched before me, bathed in soft moonlight. Autumn blooms scattered across the floor, gleaming china on linen-draped tables groaning under roasted meat, steaming vegetables, and soft rolls.

The Elders wore traditional woven outfits. Guests were close friends and relatives, their laughter soft and familiar rather than grand.

My white floral dress hugged me like it was made for me, tracing my curves in delicate elegance. Beside me, Kave wore a simple black polo that somehow made him look effortlessly commanding. Dark fabric, sharp lines, quiet confidence.

I barely touched my food. Smiles, well-wishes, and formal speeches floated around me. My mind was elsewhere — on Bran.

Then the moment came.

Kave guided me forward. My mind went blank as the ancient words filled the air. I barely heard them.

And then my eyes found Bran.

He stood still, silent among the murmuring crowd, watching as my wrist was bound to Kave’s with braided leather. His eyes — once warm, full of laughter — now hollow, carved with quiet pain.

Every memory flooded me — stolen glances, whispered confessions, young promises. All of it echoed between us like a ghost neither of us could bury.

Kave led me from the hall without a word.

Our wrists still bound, we moved in sync across the lawn under the silver wash of moonlight. I stole side glances at him, heart tight, stomach a knot.

Should I speak? What could I possibly say? Commenting on the weather seemed absurd. Every other thought felt dangerous on my tongue.

Alphas were not cruel without reason, but neither were they soft. I prayed he would be fair. If it were Bran, I would have felt safe — cherished. With Kave, dread coiled in my chest.

The cabin emerged from the shadows, timber walls framed by the forest, chimney of stone, shuttered windows, and a porch that seemed to hold its own secrets.

Kave opened the door, letting me step inside first. A warm glow revealed a modest space — a small kitchen, dining nook, sofa before the hearth, and a single door to a bedroom and bath.

“Well,” Kave said suddenly, making me flinch. “First order of business would be to remove this, wouldn’t you say?”

He lifted our bound wrists. I gave a silent nod. With a jackknife, he sliced through the leather. Relief flooded me as I rubbed the tender skin.

Kave massaged his own wrist with a low hum. “We seem to react the same to confinement,” he said, glancing at my hands.

“Yes,” I whispered. The silence stretched, taut and uncomfortable.

His eyes roamed the cabin. Was he as unsettled as I was? Had he lost someone he cared for like I had lost Bran?

Before I could ask, he said, “It’s getting late. Bathroom first?”

“All right.” My feet moved slowly, instinct screaming to run. I grabbed the folded nightgown at the foot of the bed before slipping inside.

Alone, I leaned against the door, tasting a moment of solitude. Kave wasn’t unpleasant to look at — under any other fate, I might have admired him — but he wasn’t Bran. That truth twisted my stomach.

Running meant exile. Survival without a pack was death for a Lycan. No home, no resources, constant danger.

I stared into the mirror, undoing the French braid Harah had carefully woven. My eyes looked wider, darker; my skin pale; my mouth tight with strain.

I craved the relief of hot water. Steam wrapped me in a fragile cocoon as I let the pounding shower drown my thoughts. Bran’s laughter, the rush of wind through the woods, playful tackles, whispered promises — all stolen from me now.

No dream remained. My future had been traded away by cold logic. Did the Elders even remember what it felt like to be young? To tremble at a touch? To feel your heart race just hearing someone’s voice?

The water cooled. I stepped out, shivering, and dressed slowly in the nightgown. Every movement felt deliberate, a small act of control in a world that had none left for me.

When I returned to Kave, he was already waiting. His arm rested around me, a cage that was both comforting and confining.

My life — my future — was bound to this man. Would I share his bed willingly one day? Bear his children? Run through the trees with him, or be chained by duty? In his pack… would I be welcomed, or left alone in silent isolation?

Fear and uncertainty swirled inside me, yet exhaustion claimed me first. I closed my eyes, sleep dragging me into uneasy, dark dreams — the first night of a life I had not chosen.