🐺The alpha king's👑 weakness🐺

Chapter two

🐺Alpha King🐺 POV

A king is never truly alone.

Even when the throne room empties, when the council scatters like frightened prey and the warriors retreat to their barracks, the weight of a kingdom still presses against my spine. Power hums beneath my skin, restless and demanding. It always has.

I was not born gentle.

I was born to rule.

The morning sun filters through the towering windows of my office, casting long shadows across maps carved into the obsidian table before me. Borders. Territories. Enemy lands marked in red. Every line represents blood—either already spilled or waiting to be.

“You’re going to burn holes through the table if you keep staring like that.”

I don’t turn. I don’t need to.

Only one wolf in this entire kingdom would dare speak to me like that.

“Say that again,” I reply calmly.

A chuckle answers me instead of fear.

Kael.

My Beta. My general. My only true friend.

We grew up together—trained together, bled together, survived things that would’ve broken lesser wolves. When my aura crushed warriors to their knees, Kael stood unmoved. When my temper shattered alphas, Kael spoke freely. Not because he lacked respect—but because he earned his place beside me.

He leans against the wall now, arms crossed, silver eyes sharp with amusement. “Relax. I’m just saying—you’ve got a long day ahead. Meetings, patrol reports, council whining.”

“Let them whine,” I say. “The kingdom stands because I don’t listen to weakness.”

Kael snorts. “You sure that’s not because you enjoy terrifying everyone?”

I finally look at him. “Both can be true.”

He grins, then grows more serious as he steps closer. “The mating ceremony is two weeks away.”

My jaw tightens.

“I know.”

“This year feels different,” he says quietly. “I’ve been praying to the Moon Goddess every night.”

I arch a brow. “You? Praying?”

“Mock me all you want,” Kael replies, unbothered. “But I’m ready. I want my mate. I want that bond.”

I scoff and turn back to the window. “Then you’re a fool.”

“Maybe,” he admits. “But don’t tell me you’ve never wondered.”

I feel my wolf stir at the question.

His name is Raze—a violent, relentless beast who lives to dominate and destroy. He hates cages. Hates limits. And lately, he has been driving me mad.

Mate, Raze growls in my head.

We need her.

“Control yourself,” I mutter under my breath.

Kael notices. Of course he does. “Raze acting up again?”

“He’s irrelevant,” I snap.

Kael steps closer. “You sure? You’ve never once—not once—wanted a mate? Someone bound to you? Someone who—”

“I don’t need a mate,” I cut in sharply. “I don’t need love. I don’t need fate choosing for me.”

Raze roars in protest.

“I will never look for her,” I continue coldly. “I don’t want to meet her. I don’t want to know her. If the bond exists, it will die unfulfilled.”

Kael studies me carefully. “And if she finds you?”

“That will be her mistake.”

Before he can respond, the office door swings open without permission.

I don’t have to turn to know who it is.

“Honestly,” a female voice says lazily, “your guards are getting worse.”

Lyra.

She struts inside like she owns the place—long dark hair, sharp eyes, confidence dripping from every step. She doesn’t bow. Never does. She walks straight toward me and, without invitation, settles onto my lap.

Kael groans. “I’m still here.”

“And?” Lyra smirks. “You’ve seen worse.”

I don’t touch her. I don’t push her away either. Lyra is useful—beautiful, ambitious, and fully aware that what we have is not love.

“You’re late,” I say flatly.

She shrugs. “I got bored.”

Kael shakes his head. “You know,” he mutters, “one day you’re going to sit on the wrong alpha and lose your head.”

Lyra laughs. “Not this one.”

Lyra’s laughter is light, confident—careless in the way only someone who feels untouchable can afford. Kael exhales slowly, rubbing a hand over his face like he’s already tired of the situation.

“I’ll leave you two,” he says at last. “I’ll be in the training grounds if you need me.”

His gaze flicks to me, sharp and knowing. Kael always sees more than he says. With that, he turns and walks out, closing the door behind him without another word.

Silence settles in the office—thick, charged.

Lyra doesn’t waste a second.

She shifts on my lap, her fingers sliding over my chest, nails tracing slow, deliberate lines as if she owns the space, the moment… me. Her lips curve into a satisfied smile as she leans closer, pressing a kiss against my jaw, then my mouth.

Raze snarls instantly.

No, my wolf growls. This is wrong.

I ignore him.

I always do.

I kiss her back—not because I crave her, but because it’s easier than listening to the voice in my head that won’t shut up lately. The one that keeps whispering about bonds and destiny and things I refuse to believe in.

Lyra’s hands tighten in my shirt as the kiss deepens, heat building between us. For a moment, the world narrows to this—control, familiarity, distraction.

Then—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Lyra groans against my mouth. “Ignore it.”

The knocking comes again, louder this time.

“Forget whoever that is,” she says, annoyance creeping into her voice as she presses closer.

Knock. Knock.

“My king?” the guard calls carefully through the door. “I apologize for disturbing you, but it is time for your meeting.”

I pull back instantly.

Lyra scowls. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” I say firmly. “Tell the elders I’ll be there shortly.”

“Of course, my king,” the guard replies, footsteps retreating down the corridor.

I stand, setting Lyra aside gently but decisively. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

She folds her arms. “You’re always busy.”

“I’ll make it up to you tonight,” I say, leaning down to kiss her once more.

Her irritation fades, replaced by a pleased smile. “You better.”

The meeting drags on longer than expected—elders arguing over borders, trade routes, ceremony preparations. By the time I dismiss them, the moon is already high.

Exhaustion settles deep in my bones.

When I finally return to my chambers, the scent hits me first.

Lyra.

She’s stretched across my bed like she belongs there, wearing far too little and far too much confidence. She smiles when she sees me.

“I was waiting,” she purrs.

I stop short. “Not tonight.”

Her smile falters. “What?”

“I’m tired,” I say evenly. “Go to your room. Another time.”

Her eyes flash with anger. “You promised.”

“And I will keep it,” I reply coldly. “Just not tonight.”

Silence stretches between us before she scoffs, grabbing her things.

“Fine,” she snaps, storming toward the door. It slams shut behind her.

I rub a hand over my face, irritation fading into weariness.

After a quick bath, I collapse onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Raze stirs uneasily.

Her, he murmurs. The red wolf.

“No,” I whisper. “Not tonight.”

For the past week, the same dream has haunted me—a red-furred wolf, watching me with eyes I can never quite see clearly. Always just out of reach. Always pulling.

I close my eyes, forcing the thought away.

I just want sleep.

No dreams.

No fate.

And slowly, despite myself… darkness takes me.