The Dream of My Lycan

Rayla

(Rayla’s POV)

By the time the moon crested fully over the treeline, I already knew tonight would be another disappointment. The clearing was lit beautifully—lanterns swinging from the branches, golden light spilling over dancers, laughter mixing with music and the scent of roasted meat and cider—but none of it touched me. It all felt too loud, too bright, too forced.

“You’re scowling,” my mother murmured beside me, her hand light on my elbow. “At least pretend you’re enjoying yourself, Rayla.” “I’m enjoying myself,” I lied. My father added, “You look like you’re preparing an execution. Try to look like the Goddess hasn't offended you.” “The Goddess hasn’t offended me,” I muttered. “People have.” Mayra sighed inside my mind—warm, velvety, unimpressed. Must we start the night arguing? At least wait until after the blessing. “I’m not arguing,” I whispered. My father arched a brow. “With who?” “No one.”

The Alpha and Luna—my parents—stepped to the front of the platform. The crowd hushed. My father’s voice rolled over the clearing like distant thunder. “We are proud to have so many youth of age this year. Tonight marks the first full moon since their turning. May the Goddess guide each of you to your Fated Mate, if they stand among us.” Cheers, howls, excited whispers. I stood a step behind them, dressed in deep green that caught the lantern light, red hair pinned back just enough to look polished. I looked like a Luna-to-be. What I didn’t look like was someone who had found her Fated Mate. Or someone who ever would.

Most wolves found theirs within the first or second year of attending Fated Moon ceremonies. Maybe a bit later for some—but not Alpha-born. Not the Alpha’s only daughter. Not me, standing here year after year with an unmarked neck and a growing list of whispers at my back. Maybe the Goddess forgot her. Maybe she’s too picky. Maybe no one is worthy of her. Maybe the problem is her. Mayra growled. Ignore them. “That’s hard,” I whispered, “considering half of them are staring.” Let them. Our Fated Mate will arrive when the time is right. “You’ve been saying that for three years.” She didn’t answer.

The first male approached before my father even finished the blessing. Darren—handsome, tall, polished—son of a Beta-ranked family. He smiled like he thought it was charming. “You look stunning tonight, Rayla.” “Thank you,” I said coolly. “Enjoy the ceremony.” He didn’t take the hint. “If fate doesn’t guide you,” he said, clearing his throat, “I would be honored to stand as your chosen Mate. Our families together would strengthen the pack and—” “No.” His smile cracked. “You should consider—” “I’m not choosing a chosen Mate,” I cut in. “Not tonight, not ever.” “You can’t keep waiting forever.” “Watch me.” He stalked off in a huff.

Unfortunately, he was only the beginning. The night became a steady procession of males: some hopeful, some smug, some trying painfully hard to be charming. They all asked the same thing—if I felt anything. A spark. A pull. A whisper of fate. I felt nothing. I knew what the bond was supposed to be like—lightning to the chest, breath stolen, the sense of home slamming into your ribs. I felt none of that. Just polite conversation and political potential. Mayra muttered, At least you’re finally telling them “no” without apologizing. “I’m trying not to humiliate them.” Humiliation is better than false hope. “Your definition of kindness is very…sharp.” You’re welcome.

Between approaches, my mother pulled me aside beneath a pine tree, her expression strained. “How many?” she asked softly. “Enough.” “And?” “And the answer is still no,” I said. “I’m not choosing someone just because they’re available.” She nodded, but disappointment flickered across her eyes. “We only want you to be happy.” “I won’t be happy with someone I don’t feel anything for.” “Rayla…” She sighed, carefully composed. “Other packs are watching. Other Alphas are watching. Every year that passes makes our line look weaker—like the Goddess is withholding something.” “So force a bond on me? That’s your solution?” “No. But alliances matter. If the right chosen Mate—” “No,” I snapped, sharper than intended. She winced. I looked away. “I’m tired,” I muttered. She squeezed my shoulder gently. “Just think about options. That’s all.” She returned to the crowd.

I remained under the pine, trying not to scream. Breathe, Mayra urged. Your parents love you. They’re simply blinded by duty. “Duty is blinding a lot of people.” Not us. “And if the Goddess never sends our Fated Mate?” I challenged. “Do we just wait forever?” Mayra’s steps halted in my mind. Her purple eyes turned toward me. Then we wait forever with dignity. Better alone than tied to someone wrong. “And if there isn’t someone right?” Her voice deepened. There is. I let out a frustrated laugh. “You sound very certain for someone who hasn’t seen them yet.” Who says I haven’t? Something is…strange tonight. “How strange?” The air feels heavier. Something is brushing against the bond-space. Close, but not here. Like a spark flickering just out of sight. My fur itches.

That sent a ripple through my chest. “Your descriptions are useless.” I am a Lycan, not a poet. I huffed a breath and let my gaze sweep the crowd again. Wolves pairing off, hugging, cheering, weeping—celebrating new bonds. Something clenched in my chest. As I scanned the clearing, my eyes passed over a group of Omegas lingering near the edge. One stood slightly apart—black shoulder-length hair, pale skin, green eyes faintly catching the moonlight. Short for a male. Lean. Quiet. Watching the ceremony without participating. Something tugged—lightly, barely, so faint I could have imagined it. Then a warrior stepped between us, and the moment was gone.

There, Mayra growled. Did you feel that? “Feel what? He’s just an Omega.” Not him, she said. Something around him. Like a spark brushing past us. “I didn’t feel anything,” I lied. Mayra paused—skeptical. But I refused to admit uncertainty, not here, not tonight. As the ceremony stretched on, more pairs found each other—two warriors collapsing into hugs, an Omega and a merchant apprentice sobbing with joy, a visiting pack’s heirs receiving the Goddess’s blessing. Everyone cheered. Everyone smiled. Behind each celebration was the same ache, carving deeper into my ribs.

By the time lantern flames burned low and music began to fade, my feet hurt, my patience was ragged, and my chest felt too tight. No spark. No pull. No miracle. Just me, standing alone while everyone waited for me to stop disappointing them. I know you’re tired, Mayra murmured as we finally slipped from the crowd. But something brushed us tonight. This is only the beginning. “I don’t know whether that makes me feel better,” I whispered. It should. But as I walked toward our home, leaving lanterns and laughter behind, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the world had shifted just slightly— —as if something had noticed me back.