Bound To The Lycan King

BELLA’S POV. The heavy stench of blood filled the air. Blood clung to me like a curse I couldn’t wash away. It was everywhere: on my bridal dress, the floor, my hands as I held my mate’s dead body. His throat had been ripped open just a few minutes before our mating ceremony. Tears burned my eyes and rolled down my cheeks as the pain lanced my chest, confusion only intensifying it. This was the third time this was happening—my bonded mate was brutally murdered minutes before our official ceremony, and was dying in my arms. The first, Matheo, suffered a deep gash across his chest and held my hands tightly as he took his last breath. The second, Simon, had his eyes gruesomely gouged from his skull. And now, the third, Maddox had this throat clawed open, bleeding dry in my arms, his eyes wide and lifeless as they stared back at me. I couldn’t understand how they were dying such mysterious deaths. Am I truly cursed like people say? Had some vengeful wolf set their sights on me, or was this the moon goddess’s way of condemning me for sins I knew nothing about? The moment I heard something snap inside—the mate bond, I lifted my tear-streaked face and looked to the onlookers, my people, for help. “Help… please… somebody help!!…” I cried out, trying to hold back the sobs racking through my throat. But they stepped back like I was a virus and pulled their pups close to their bodies, dread and disgust written all over their faces as they sneered at me. Their whispers sliced through the air, sharp and cold, cutting deeper than a knife could ever. “Cursed.” “Witch.” “Murderer.” “Lady of death.” “How can a murderer like her rule us?” It was hard to believe that the same people who used to worship the grounds I walked on were giving me the cold shoulder and saying such obscenities. How in the world did they think I’ll be responsible for killing the ones I love, the ones who had sworn to protect me? Did they think I liked being mateless? More than anything, I wanted to be bound to a mate and take over the throne my father had left me as the first female Alpha of my pack—the Northwing pack. My birthright was undeniable, but the old laws demanded I be bound to a strong mate before ascending the throne. The crowd made way as my uncle, Axel Northwing, stepped into the scene, his lips twisted in somewhat mocking sympathy. “Oh, Bella,” he said softly, too softly as he squatted beside me. “Don’t you ever get tired of killing your mates? What sort of twisted joy do you derive from such brutality?” His tone dripped with sarcasm, his eyes roaming the length of my mate’s dead body as his nose scrunched in disgust. “I didn’t do this…” I defended myself amid my anguish. “Save your words for the council, niece,” he brushed off sharply, strengthening himself to his full height. “They’ve run out of patience and have summoned you for questioning.” He sighed as he stared down at me, shaking his head in false pity and sympathy. “Oh, little niece, if you know what’s coming for you, then you’ll leave this place immediately and never think of returning.” “Leave?…” I muttered, my brows furrowing in confusion. But before I could ask further what he meant by that, he left. I tried but unsuccessfully to make sense of it. But one thing was for sure. I had way thicker skin than he thought. If he thinks I’ll leave my fatherland because of something I was innocent of, he was wrong. I will stay and get to the bottom of this. I will stay and rule over my pack no matter what the council says. The healers arrived a few minutes after my uncle left. But it was too late to save Maddox as he was already dead, and I had closed his eyes, accepting the painful reality. After careful assessment, the healers concluded that a silver blade smeared with highly concentrated amounts of wolfsbane was used to slit his throat, which broke his body’s defence mechanism, preventing him from healing. What shattered me the most was that no one, not even the pack guards on duty, had seen who did it. * * * Three years later… After facing trial before the pack council, I was not only thrown into the dungeon for a year, but I was also stripped of my birthright and demoted to the position of a servant—a position only Omegas in the pack occupy. No matter how hard I tried to prove my innocence, the council was firm on their decision. In their words, I was a curse to the pack, a murderer who would never find her mate. Such a person was unworthy of the throne. The throne was handed to my uncle, who also carried Beta blood and was seen by the council and the entire pack as the better leader. While I swallowed my voice till they turned to stone in my chest, cried silently in the corners, and made to serve wine for the people I was meant to lead. A few days later, the Gathering of Alphas was announced. It was a grand annual event where Alphas from across the werewolf kingdoms convened to interact, strengthen alliances, and discuss ways to improve the safety and quality of life of werewolves. This year, it was my pack’s turn to host. Hope finally flickered. This could be the opportunity I have been looking for. A stage large enough for me to find my voice again, remind the other Alphas who I truly was, and reclaim what was taken from me. Even though I didn’t want to do it, I reduced myself to dust and begged my uncle, reminding him of the longstanding promise he made to my father, his only brother, during his final moments. After much heartfelt, persistent persuasion, my uncle finally agreed to help me. He promised to introduce me to the other Alphas and speak in my favour. Most importantly, he gave me his word that he would announce to the council he no longer wished to lead, stepping down as the Alpha of the Northwing pack to make way for me to take my rightful place on the throne.