The Lycan King's Cursed Healer (Book One: The Rejected Healer)

Chapter 5: Two Alphas, One Healer

The hallway suddenly felt very, very small.

Damien on one side. Kairos on the other. Two alphas, both staring each other down like they were about to tear each other apart.

And Elara? She was stuck in the middle.

Great.

Just great.

"Damien," she said, stepping forward. "What are you doing here? How did you even find this place?"

Damien didn't take his eyes off Kairos. "I followed you. And I'm here because I need your help. Lila is dying, Elara. Dying. And you're the only one who can save her."

"I already told you no."

"But—"

"Damien." Elara's voice was sharp, final. "I'm not healing her. Not now. Not ever. You made your choice. Live with it."

Damien finally looked at her. His eyes were desperate, pleading. "Elara, please. She's my mate. I love her."

Love her.

The words hit Elara like a punch to the gut.

He'd never said that to her. Not once. Not in all the years they'd been betrothed.

But he said it to Lila.

Of course he did.

"That's nice," she said, her voice cold. "But I still don't care. Now leave. Before you get yourself killed."

She nodded toward Kairos, who was still standing there, his golden eyes dark and dangerous.

Damien followed her gaze. And for the first time, he seemed to realize exactly who he was dealing with.

His eyes widened. "You—you're the Lycan King."

Kairos didn't say anything. He just stood there, tall and imposing and terrifying, his gaze cold as ice.

"Kairos Voss," Damien breathed, bowing his head slightly. "I—I didn't realize. I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I didn't mean to intrude—"

"Then leave." Kairos's voice was low, dangerous, the voice of a king who didn't tolerate disobedience. "Now."

Damien hesitated. He looked at Elara, then at Kairos, then back at Elara.

"But Lila—"

"Is not my problem," Elara said. "And if you don't leave right now, you're going to have a much bigger problem than a sick mate. Do you understand?"

Damien's jaw tightened. But he nodded.

"Fine," he said. "But I'm not giving up. I'll be back."

And with that, he turned and walked away, his shoulders tight with anger and frustration.

Elara watched him go, her heart racing, her hands shaking.

That had been... intense.

Too intense.

She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

"Well," she said, turning to Kairos. "That was fun."

Kairos didn't smile. His face was still hard, his eyes still dark.

"He followed you," he said. "All the way here."

"Apparently."

"That's a problem."

"I know."

Kairos stepped closer, and Elara had to tilt her head back to look at him. He was so close she could feel the heat radiating off his body.

"He knows where you are now," he said, his voice low. "He knows you're with me. That puts you in even more danger."

"From Damien? Please. He's harmless."

"Not from him. From the people who shot me. If they find out you're here, that you're staying in the palace... they'll come for you. And they won't be as polite as your ex-mate."

Elara's stomach twisted.

He was right. She knew he was right.

But she didn't want to admit it.

"So what do we do?" she asked.

"We keep you safe." Kairos's voice was final, kingly. "You stay in the palace. You have guards with you at all times. No exceptions."

"Guards? Kairos, I'm not a prisoner—"

"You're not a prisoner. You're a guest. A very important guest. And I will keep you safe. Whether you like it or not."

Elara stared at him.

He was serious. Dead serious.

And for some reason, that made her heart skip a beat.

No one had ever cared about her safety this much. Not Damien. Not her parents. Not anyone.

It was... nice.

And terrifying.

Because the more she let him care about her, the more it would hurt when he eventually pushed her away.

Because he would. She knew he would.

The curse. The fear. The loneliness.

It would drive him away. Just like it had driven everyone else away.

Right?

Right.

"Fine," she said, sighing. "Guards. Whatever. But I'm not staying locked up in my room all day. I'm a healer. I want to work. In the infirmary. With the other healers."

Kairos hesitated.

"Please," she said, softening her voice. "I'm not good at doing nothing. I need to feel useful."

Kairos stared at her for a long moment. Then he sighed.

"Fine," he said. "You can work in the royal infirmary. But you'll have guards. And you'll come straight back to the palace when you're done. No detours. No adventures."

"Deal."

Elara smiled. It was a small victory, but it was a victory.

Kairos's expression softened, just a little.

"Now," he said. "Dinner is in an hour. You should get ready. Wear something nice. Like I said, there's someone I want you to meet."

"Who?"

"You'll see."

And with that, he turned and walked away, his black suit blending into the shadows of the hallway.

Elara watched him go, her heart racing, her mind spinning.

What was she doing?

She was supposed to be hiding. She was supposed to be normal. She was supposed to be far away from packs and kings and curses and all of it.

But here she was. In a palace. With a king. And a mate bond. And a whole lot of danger.

And the worst part?

She didn't want to leave.

Not even a little bit.

* * *

An hour later, Elara was standing in front of her closet, staring at the clothes Kairos had provided.

There were gowns. So many gowns. Silk and lace and satin, in every color of the rainbow. And day dresses. And pantsuits. And... was that armor?

It was a lot.

She ended up choosing a simple dark blue gown—elegant, but not too fancy. It had long sleeves and a high neck and flowed down to the floor. Nothing flashy. Nothing that would draw too much attention.

Or so she thought.

When she walked into the dining hall, every head turned.

The hall was enormous, with a ceiling so high it was lost in shadow. A long table ran down the middle, set with silver and crystal and candles that burned with silver moon fire. Servants moved silently, pouring wine, bringing out plates of food that smelled amazing.

And at the head of the table, in a chair that looked more like a throne, sat Kairos.

He was wearing a black suit, as always, and he looked... godlike. His black hair was combed back from his face, his golden eyes were bright in the candlelight, and that scar on his cheek just made him look more rugged, more dangerous, more everything.

Elara's breath caught.

He stood when he saw her. His eyes traveled slowly down her body, and the look in them was hungry, possessive, like he was already claiming her as his.

"Elara," he said, his voice deep and warm. "You look beautiful."

"Thanks," she said, her voice coming out higher than she intended. She cleared her throat. "You look... nice too."

Nice.

Really, Elara? Nice?

That's the best you can do?

Kairos smiled, like he knew exactly what she was thinking. He held out a hand. "Come. Sit with me."

Elara walked toward him, her heels clicking on the marble floor. She could feel every eye in the room on her—courtiers and guards and servants, all staring, all wondering who she was and why the king was looking at her like that.

She sat down in the chair to his right. The queen's chair, if she wasn't mistaken.

Great. Just great.

"Elara, I'd like you to meet someone." Kairos gestured to the woman sitting on his left. "This is Lady Isolde. My advisor. And... my cousin."

Elara looked at the woman. She was beautiful—pale skin, dark hair, red lips, eyes the color of ice. She looked like she belonged in a vampire movie, not a werewolf court.

But she smiled, and it was warm and genuine.

"Elara," she said. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Kairos has told me so much about you."

Wait.

This was the same woman who'd been so cold earlier?

Elara blinked. "All good things, I hope."

"Only the best." Lady Isolde's eyes twinkled. "He's been quite taken with you for years. It's nice to finally put a face to the name."

Kairos's jaw tightened. "Isolde."

"What? It's true." She turned back to Elara. "Don't mind him. He's just grumpy because I'm embarrassing him. So! You're a healer? And a human doctor? How fascinating. Tell me everything."

Elara relaxed. Lady Isolde was easy to talk to—funny, smart, interested. She asked about Elara's work, about Seattle, about her life in the human world. It was almost like a normal dinner party.

Almost.

Because every time Elara looked up, Kairos was watching her. His golden eyes were dark and intense, and the way he looked at her made her skin feel too tight, her dress feel too loose, her heart beat too fast.

It was distracting.

Very distracting.

They were halfway through dessert when the doors burst open.

A guard ran in, his face pale, his breath coming in gasps. "Your Majesty! It's an emergency—"

"What is it?" Kairos stood, his voice cold, kingly.

"The southern border. The rogues. They attacked a pack village. Dozens dead. More wounded. They need help."

Elara stood too. "I'm a healer. Send me."

Kairos looked at her, his eyes dark. "No. It's too dangerous."

"I'm not asking for your permission. I'm a doctor. People are hurt. I'm going."

They stared at each other, wills clashing. The whole room held its breath.

Finally, Kairos spoke.

"Fine. But I'm coming with you."

"Kairos—" Isolde started.

"No arguments." He turned to the guard. "Prepare the helicopters. We leave in ten minutes."

The guard nodded and ran out.

Kairos turned back to Elara. His expression was hard, angry, but there was something else there too—admiration, maybe. Or pride.

"You're reckless," he said.

"You're one to talk."

He smiled, a sharp, dangerous smile. "We're going to get along just fine, aren't we?"

"Dream on, Your Majesty."

But as she followed him out of the dining hall, her heart racing, her wolf pacing, Elara had a feeling he might be right.

They were going to get along just fine.

Or terribly.

Either way, it was going to be explosive.

And she couldn't wait.

Ten minutes later, they were in a helicopter, flying over the mountains. Elara sat next to Kairos, watching the world go by below, her hands clenched in her lap.

She'd never been in a helicopter before. She'd never been to a battle site before. She'd never done anything like this.

But people were hurt. And she could help.

That was all that mattered.

"Hey," Kairos said, and his voice was softer than she'd ever heard it. "You okay?"

Elara nodded. "I'm fine. Just... nervous."

"Don't be. You're the best healer I've ever seen. They're lucky to have you."

She looked at him. In the dim light of the helicopter, his face was softer, less kingly, more human. For a second, she could almost forget he was the most powerful wolf in existence.

Almost.

"Thanks," she said, quiet.

He reached over and covered her hand with his. That jolt again, that thrumming, that strange connection. But this time, it wasn't scary. It was... comforting.

"You're going to be amazing," he said.

And Elara believed him.

She really did.

But she had no idea just how amazing.

Or how much this night would change everything.

The helicopter touched down. The doors opened.

And the smell of blood and fear and pain hit Elara like a wave.

But she didn't run.

She stepped forward.

And got to work.