The Runt and the Lycan King

Scraps from the Table

The dawn of my twenty-first birthday didn't arrive with a choir of angels or a magical shift in the atmosphere. I woke up at 6:00 AM, my skin prickling with an agonizingly sharp anticipation. I was officially twenty-one. This was the moment. I lay in the dim light for a long time, breathing deeply, waiting for that legendary, soul-shattering scent of my mate to flood the room.

Nothing. Just the familiar smell of my old house and the lingering trail of the sandalwood candle I’d burned the night before.

I couldn't sit still. I threw on a simple dress and headed out, my eyes darting through the bustling crowds of the pack square. I needed to find Ethan. I needed to see if the distance was the problem—maybe the bond just needed proximity to ignite. I searched the faces of the warriors, the elders, and the families setting up for the festival, but he was nowhere to be found.

Giving up on the main square, I ducked into a quiet back alley to head home. Suddenly, a strong hand reached out from the shadows, grabbing my arm and pulling me behind a brick building. I gasped, but before I could scream, Ethan’s mouth was on mine.

He pulled back just an inch, his eyes dark, and whispered, "Happy birthday."

"Ethan—"

"Meet me at your house in five minutes," he commanded, his voice a low vibration that left me breathless. Before I could even nod, he was gone, slipping back into the crowd.

I sprinted home, my heart hammering. When I burst through my front door, he was already there, standing in the center of my living room. He didn't say a word as he crossed the space and pulled me into a bruising kiss. Things escalated instantly, his hands roaming over my body with a frantic energy, but as we moved together, a cold realization settled in my gut.

There was no spark. No lightning bolt. No fated pull that they told us about in the stories.

I pulled back, my hands trembling as I looked into his eyes. "What?" he asked, his breathing heavy.

"I guess... we aren't mates," I whispered, the words tasting like ash. "The bond didn't come, Ethan."

He didn't even flinch. "It’s okay," he insisted, cupping my face. "I still choose you, Rachel. Mates or not, you’re the one I want. Now come here and let me give you your birthday present."

He pulled me back in, but the sadness was a heavy weight in my chest. He sensed it, pulling back to look at me with an intensity that bordered on desperate. "Look at me. I love you. My wolf and my heart choose you. Be here with me now. We’ll talk about the rest after the ceremony, okay?"

"Okay," I whispered, desperate to drown out the disappointment.

The kiss turned feral. Ethan let out a guttural growl, the sound of a wolf pushing against the surface, and slammed me against the wall. He grabbed my chin, tilting my head back to gain access to my neck, his teeth grazing the skin. I was moaning, my body grinding against his, desperate for the distraction.

"I know what you need," he whispered, nipping at my ear before twirling me around and leading me toward the bedroom. I let out a breathless giggle as he threw me onto the bed. "Take your clothes off."

"Yes, Alpha," I said in a low, submissive voice.

His eyes turned almost black at the title, his predatory aura flaring. We stripped in a blur of motion. He stood over me for a moment, his gaze devouring me. "You’re perfect. Come here."

I crawled over to him on my knees, the velvet of the duvet soft beneath me. He cupped my breasts, his thumb pinching my n**ple hard enough to make me gasp before he bent down to kiss me. I moaned into his mouth, and I could feel him smiling against my lips—the smile of a man who knew exactly how to control me.

He grabbed my hair, guiding my head down. I went willingly, trailing searing kisses down his abs until I reached the length of him. After three years, there was no shyness left between us; I knew his body as well as my own. I teased him for a moment before taking his c**k fully into my mouth, the gag reflex long since trained away.

"F*ck, Rachel," he groaned, his fingers tightening in my hair as he started to move his hips. After a few minutes, he pulled back. "Flip over."

I obeyed, and he moved into a 69 position. He was relentless, his hands moving between my legs to play with my c**t while his c*ck occupied my mouth. The rhythm was punishing, his b**ls slapping against my face with every thrust. I was lost in a haze of heat until he suddenly leaned up and delivered a sharp, stinging slap to my p**sy. I gasped—half in pain, half in a shocked spike of pleasure.

"Turn around," he ordered.

I bit my lip and turned. He threw my legs into the air and slammed into me, abandoning any pretense of being slow or soft. I was used to our rough encounters, but this felt different. There was a jagged edge to him today, an underlying anger that was bleeding into every thrust. He was pinching me harder, his movements almost violent.

He flipped me over again, pinning me to the mattress as he drove into me. I cried out his name, my voice echoing off the walls.

"Call me Alpha," he growled, his voice a terrifying rumble.

"Yes... yes, Alpha!" I sobbed out.

He pulled my body up against his by my throat, his grip firm as he pinched my n****e with bruising force. "Whose wh*re are you?"

"Yours," I gasped, the air thin in my lungs. "I'm yours."

He threw my face down against the bed and delivered a smack to my a** so hard I knew it would leave a mark for days. I yelped into the pillow. "Whose wh**e?"

"Yours, Alpha!"

He growled, a sound of pure triumph. "That’s right."

He f**ked me with a savage intensity, bending my body into positions we had never tried, his dirty talk darker and more demeaning than it had ever been. I gave him everything—my body, my voice, my pride. By the time he finally finished and collapsed beside me, I was so spent I wasn't sure I could even stand up for the ceremony.

We lay there for a few minutes, the only sound the ragged synchronization of our breathing.

"Are you okay?" I asked softly, turning my head toward him.

"Yeah. Why?"

"You just seemed... I don't know. Angry."

He caught his breath, staring at the ceiling. "You don't want to hear about it, Rachel."

I rolled over to face him, propping myself up on an elbow. "I do. What's wrong?"

Ethan sighed, a bitter sound. "It was Lydia this morning. I was trying to have s*x with her, and she always insists on taking it slow. She says it’s 'making love,' but I don't want that."

I froze. He said it so casually, as if he hadn't just slapped me across the face with the reality of his other life. He looked at me then, his expression completely unapologetic. "I want what we have. Rough. Unfiltered. Hard."

I felt a coldness wash over me that had nothing to do with the morning air. I sat up, pulling the covers around me. "So... this was just a booty call? You were just taking your anger out on me because your 'Luna' wouldn't give you what you wanted?"

Ethan leaned up, frowning. "No, Rachel, not like that. You just... you know how to take it. You give me what I need."

I let out a sharp, angry huff of a laugh. "It still sounds like she wouldn't give it to you, so you came to me to get your rocks off."

"No, Rachel. We did do it," he said, his voice rising in frustration. "But I needed more. I needed you."

I stood up, my legs shaking, the gold bracelet on the nightstand suddenly looking like a piece of cheap junk. "I’m sorry, but you need to leave."

"Rachel, please don't be mad," he said, reaching for his pants. "I told you that you didn't want to hear it. But I do have to go. I'm sure they're looking for me at the pack house."

"Yeah," was all I could manage.

He dressed quickly, moving with the practiced ease of a man who had done this a hundred times. He walked to the door and paused, looking back at me with that same charming smile that had kept me trapped for years.

"I love you, Rachel. I'll find you after the ceremony."

The door clicked shut, and for the first time on my twenty-first birthday, I realized that the "blessing" I had prayed for might actually be a curse.