The Lycan King's Forbidden Mate

The moon blazed deep crimson as if the sky itself wept blood over the lands of the Blackwood Pack. Wind howled fierce and wild, carrying dust and the sharp metallic scent of old iron. Thousands of golden eyes stared out from the darkness at Elara. Not with the love fate had promised her. But with terror that had already turned to blind searing hate. Elara stood tall at the center of the stone platform. Her white silk robes whipped wildly around her in the gale. Her heart hammered so hard it threatened to burst from her chest. Yet she would not let her shoulders slump. She would not bow her head. Before her stood Alpha Kael Blackwood. The man she had loved silently for ten long years. The man who once smiled when she tended to the wounded. The man whose gaze now turned cold as eternal ice. Kael stepped forward. His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword until his knuckles turned white. “From this moment,” his voice boomed across the night, sharp and unyielding. Yet a faint tremor ran through it he could not hide. “I, Alpha Kael Blackwood, reject you as my fated mate. You are not mine. And you do not deserve to draw breath upon this land for one moment longer.” Pain slammed into Elara’s chest like a boulder. She saw Kael flinch. His own hand clawed at his heart as if a dagger twisted deep within his ribs. The bond that tied their souls together had just been severed by force. But as an Alpha who carried the lives of hundreds upon his shoulders he believed one truth. A leader’s weakness would bring ruin to them all. Kael moved closer. He gripped her jaw firm yet careful not to bruise her skin. “You are weak Elara. The wolf inside you never woke. There is not a spark of power in your blood. How would you protect our children when enemies come bearing fire and silver? Fate may have made a mistake in choosing you. But I will not let that mistake destroy us all.” Elara looked straight back at him. Her eyes burned bright even as her voice shook. “You call me weak? Then look well. Who stands tall while you tremble to hide your own fear? Strength is not only in fangs and claws Kael. It is in surviving when the whole world casts you aside.” Kael wrenched his hand away so roughly Elara stumbled back. She righted herself instantly. “Leave.” The crowd erupted at once. Shouts of scorn and fury crashed together louder than the wind. “Cast her out!” “Bad luck!” “Drag her into the forbidden woods to die!” Stones rained down upon her without mercy. One struck her temple hard and fresh blood spilled down her face staining her white robes. She wiped it roughly away with the back of her hand. She did not blink once. These were the very people she had fed. The ones she had healed. The ones she had protected. Now they were the first to strike her down. Even the small children she had once told stories to pointed and laughed. They only mimicked the rage of those they trusted most. At the edge of the crowd her foster father stood frozen. Tears streamed down his wrinkled face. But his feet would not move forward. He knew to defend her meant death for them both. His silence was not betrayal. It was the hardest sacrifice he could make. Kael raised his hand high. The roar of the crowd died instantly as if struck by lightning. “By the will of the Elders,” his voice rang out cold and final. “I sever this bond forever. Drag her to the Forbidden Forest. And anyone who dares lift a hand to help her shall be put to death along with their entire kin.” Two of his strongest warriors stepped forward to seize her arms. Elara wrenched herself free with a force that surprised them both. “Do not touch me!” she shouted clear and loud. “I will walk out on my own. I will not crawl from a place that never saw my worth.” Blood dripped from her temple her arms and her back. Yet her head remained high. She walked past every face in that crowd one by one. She met every eye filled with anger and disgust and never turned away. She did not look back. The wind howled around her as she stepped into the thick dark of the Forbidden Forest. A place forbidden since the days of their ancestors. A place where legend said things far older and far deadlier than ordinary wolves still ruled the shadows. Slowly the shouts faded swallowed by the wind. Dead silence fell over the land. Then the wind stopped entirely. The air grew so cold Elara’s breath turned to mist before her eyes. From far off rose one long mournful howl. It was not the cry of a wolf. It was ancient heavy and deep enough to shake the very earth beneath her feet. Another answered it. Then a third. Until hundreds howled in reply as if every creature in those woods paid homage or prepared for war. The ground trembled beneath her. Elara stepped back slowly. But she did not kneel. From the dark trees giant shapes emerged one by one. They stood twice the size of the largest wolf. Their fur was black as night drinking all light from the red moon. Their eyes did not glow gold. They blazed blood red and deep violet. Lycan. Beasts said to have vanished centuries ago. Beasts even the oldest wolves feared to name. They circled her tight cutting off every path of escape. The largest stepped forward fangs bared ready to tear her apart in an instant. Then he froze. Slowly that massive beast lowered his head. One by one every Lycan around her bowed low in perfect unison. As if they dared not look upon something far greater than themselves. Heavy footsteps drew near. Each step made the air colder still and sent a chill straight to Elara’s marrow. A man stepped from the shadow of the oldest tree. His long black cloak moved as if it had a will of its own though no wind blew. The red moon lit half his face. He was terrifyingly beautiful. A scar of silver cut across his brow and jaw. A wound that had never healed in all the thousands of years it had been there. His eyes were unlike any she had ever seen. One shone bright silver like a newly honed blade. The other was black as an endless abyss. On his index finger sat a band of black iron carved with a broken crescent moon. The symbol of power lost to time. He stopped right before her. The weight of his presence was so immense Elara could barely draw breath. Still she stood tall and met his gaze. A voice deep and ancient spoke directly within her mind. “They cast you out because they are too small to understand what you are. They think you weak. But you are the fire hidden away for ages lest you burn those who were not yet ready.” He slowly bent one knee. Before hundreds of Lycan who trembled in awe the oldest King of all bowed low to the girl they had just thrown away like trash. “Their scorn tonight is not the end of your life...” He looked at her as if he had found a soul lost to him for a thousand years. “It is only the beginning of the day when they all shall kneel and beg for your mercy.”