The Ruthless Lycan King's Virgin Mate


“I reject you!” After being rejected by 4 mates, my father forces me to substitute my half-sister as a virgin sacrificed to the bloodthirsty, ruthless Lycan King.


I’m Harper, an alpha, but the weakest alpha. My power is weaker than an omega, and I can’t even distinguish who is my mate.

Every year, each pack needs to sacrifice a 20-year-old virgin to the Lycan King Dean Tullus. Years ago, the King had said that he would choose his bride from the virgins.

However, Dean is a notorious tyrant. Rumor has it that he killed his parents and brother in order to take the throne.

He always wears a mask, and they all say it’s because he’s ugly and facially distorted.

Most importantly, the four previously chosen brides all died before the wedding.

I pray not to be chosen by the King, but he kisses me in front of all the sacrificed virgins!

Will I be his 5th bride? Can I survive?


I’m Dean, the most powerful Lycan King. But I have a secret, I will die soon because of my curse.

I’ve been searching for my virgin bride all the time, the one who can cure my curse in the prophecy.

What?! My mate is such a weak she-wolf!

Strong as I am, I totally can’t accept it.

Want to be my bride? Huh, absolutely impossible!

But why is she able to summon me? Why will I even lose my power if I refuse her request?

Is she really the one I’m fated to be with?

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#Chapter 1 Sacrifice Virgin
Harper’s POV Like a cornered lamb, I shrink back into the shadow of the demonic man that stands before me. He cages me in with his muscular frame, his dragon-like breath etches fire across my skin as he brands me with his mark. “Mate,” whispers the demon. ________________________________ One day ago: “I, Samuel, reject you!” Samuel is stunning. My eyes gloss over with admiration, seeing stars twinkling round his pretty face. “Harper? I’m sorry, but I reject you,” I stare at him blankly, like a wide-eyed owl, blinking away glorious illusions of us skipping merrily down lovers lane. And I’m left with the reality that I have just been rejected. ‘Wow. Who knew someone could still look so gorgeous whilst breaking your heart!’ Says Sara, my wolf, as she mentally gushes alongside me. I force a laugh to sputter out my mouth. “Ah… that’s perfectly understandable!” I swear I can feel my face redden like a fat tomato. “That's totally okay! I, Harper, accept your rejection.” Course not really… Unless you consider the feeling of someone whacking your heart with a baseball bat okay… But instead I smile, rubbing the back of my neck in embarrassment. “Darn that sense of smell of mine is wrong again! See this is what happens when you don’t eat enough carrots as a child. You end up the weakest alpha that she can’t even distinguish one person’s scent from the next. Let alone her mate!” Samuel laughs sincerely: “Carrots improve your vision, not your sense of smell silly,” he says sweetly, pinching my cheek, “Don’t talk about yourself that way, you're lovely, we just don’t fit ya know?” I mindlessly nod, just savoring the fact that he’s touching me. Of course, the moment he withdraws his hand, and turns to walk away, my knees buckle and I flop to the ground like a fish out of water. “I’ll never find my true love!” I wail. “How can this be? I’ve read all the romance books I can find, I should be an expert! And yet-” I snuffle, “I’ve been rejected four times! What do the female characters have that I don’t?” ‘A good sense of smell?’ Sara asks. I huff. “Samuel is one of the only honorable people in the Pack who treats me like a person, not a slave. But he rejected me too!” Despite the strange glances from onlookers and the protests from Sara, I sob all the way home. “Harper! Where have you been fooling around? Get your ass over here!” I barely have one foot in the doorway when a rag is hurled at my face, followed by my stepmother Miranda’s angry screeching from the kitchen. Well, here it is again. I hurriedly put on a meek expression, bow my head and obediently approach my stepmother. “How many times have I told you, you will not leave this house till after you clean the kitchen.” Miranda utters a shrill voice. “Do you think you’re a princess? You’re nothing but a lowly bastard daughter, worthy only of being a slave. Only I am the wife of Alpha James, and my only daughter Erin, is the true princess of the Mystic Grey Pack!” Hiding behind my unruly ginger curls, I remain silent. Miranda snorts. I glance up to see her make a show of swiping her index finger across the table, she lifts her hand to her lips and blows at the tip, as if there was dust, “It’s not surprising that you’ve inherited your mother’s terrible genes. Is it not enough to be such a deviant, do you wish to be a w***e too?” The shameful term is like a pin that pierces through my veil of feigned submission. “My mother is not a w***e,” I whisper. “What?” Miranda seems very surprised that I dare to contradict her. “My mother was deceived. Father lied to her about being married, which is why she thought it was true love. He forced her to be his mistress,” I say with all my courage, trying not to tremble in my voice. I look up, locking eyes with Miranda, trying to remain composed despite my frantic thoughts. To which Sara points out. ‘Oh, you’ve done it now haven’t ya? Surely we're gonna get a beating!’ As expected, Miranda looks furious and raises her open palm to take a swing. But just as the storm is about to hit, Miranda appears to think of something. She lowers her hand, calmer now, looking at me with a deep, malicious smile. “For the sake of your upcoming sacrifice to the Lycan King as the chosen virgin, I will let you off the hook this time.” “What?” I’m the chosen virgin this year? My mouth gapes. My pack is a small pack within the Aries Kingdom, and every year, each pack has to choose a 20-year-old virgin to send to the capital as a sacrifice to the Lycan King Dean Tullus. Years ago, the King had said that he would choose a virgin to be his bride. This seemed like a godsend, but the truth was that Dean was a notorious tyrant. Rumor has it that he had killed his parents and eldest brother in order to take the throne. “It’s true,” my father says. Just as I am trying to reconfirm this with my stepmother, my father, the Alpha of the Mystic Grey Pack, appears, with my half-sister Erin trailing behind him. “But I, I’m only 18, I’m not even old enough…” Before I can finish my sentence, I am suddenly interrupted by Miranda, “It would be sheer luck for a slave like you to have an opportunity to be sacrificed to the Lycan King. Even at the age of 20 you still wouldn’t be qualified to meet the King, if my darling daughter didn’t so graciously offer this opportunity to you to substitute for her, becoming a sacrificed virgin in her name, despite your lowly status.” Erin nods in agreement next to Miranda, pretending to be vulnerable and sincere. ‘Such bullies! They deserve a good hard slap!’ erupts Sara. In my mind, I really want to fight back! However, in reality, neither of us knows karate, and I only dare to whisper, “If this is really an honor, you would have already rushed to let your daughter go, why would you give it to me.” Unfortunately, my quiet muttering is caught by Miranda, and she becomes irritated, “What did you say? You are getting more and more unruly now!” “I, I’m just telling the truth,” I say for the sake of my life, “The Lycan King has four dead brides! All of those brides who had been chosen, had been killed before the wedding ceremony, and none had survived more than a month after being chosen.” I look to my father with the most pitiful expression, hoping he can help. But unfortunately, as usual, my father disappoints me with his lack of care, “It’s decided.” His majestic voice giving me the final verdict. ‘What can we do? What can we do? I don’t want to die yet, master,’ Sara wails in my mind. “Run!” Despite alluding to the perpetrators of my plan, they nonchalantly stand watching as I flail and scramble out the back door, nearly tripping on the fabric of my skirt. I break off into a sprint hoping that my head start pays off. _______________________ Merula Capital It didn’t pay off…. Now I’m standing in a square in the palace with all the other sacrificed virgins from various packs. Adjusting my glasses to see the others. Each of us has received numbered cards and is lined up in order, waiting to enter the throne room one by one where the King resides. As for my escape plan which was more like a last ditch effort to save my life. Sara had suggested I climb one of the trees and hide there. Of course, in my haste, I ended up choosing the skinniest tree, and it wasn’t long till I could hear creaking beneath me. With a snap, I plummeted to the ground, only then to be clamped down on all fours by my father’s men who had simply been waiting for my inevitable fall. Despite my desperate flailing like a deranged octopus, I was escorted to the capital. ‘Dear Moon Goddess, please bless me not to be chosen by the King. I am only 18 years old, I do not want to die!’ I silently pray. Although Sara is also nervous, she reassures me, ‘Actually, the probability of us being chosen is not very high. After all, who would pick an alpha that’s as weak as an omega?” ‘You’re right, that… Hey! Are you comforting me or being sarcastic? Sara, you…’ However, before I can finish the words, my thought process is interrupted by a loud and ferocious roar. I flinch along with the other girls as it was coming from the throne room! The servants around us also fluster, but no one can stop the large golden doors from swinging open with intense force. Rumor has it that Dean is always wearing a mask because he is ugly and facially distorted. Suddenly, images flash in my mind of Dean without his mask, with a face of a donkey, a goat, a cow- ‘Sara!’ I mentally yell. ‘What? I’m just guessing what he might look like! You never know. He could even be an alien from another planet, and beneath the mask is a big-eyed green man!’ ‘You’re not helping….’ My thoughts are then interrupted as Dean storms in. Dressed in all black, with a long draping coat and hood that’s lifted hauntingly over his head. His aura leaving a sense of unease prickling at my skin. I hastily lower my head and dare not look any further, praying that this commotion will end quickly. Shouldn’t the King be waiting for the virgins to enter one by one, why did he suddenly come out? While I ruminate, I feel the air around me grow frigid, and a hush suddenly befalls my side of the square. I feel countless pairs of eyes staring at me, and an ominous premonition wells up in my heart. I slowly look up and suddenly collide with the most intense gaze. The King’s. His mask likened him to a demon, and I am left locked in his gaze, unable to move my feet as he moves towards me. Before I can find the will to escape, the masked King cups my face with his cold harsh hands and pulls me towards him, pressing his bare murderous lips against my virgin ones.

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