The Lycan and His un expected Mate

The war is only the beginning

The forest was silent in the aftermath of Ria’s power. The ravine stretched wide and deep, a grave for the Bloodclaw warriors who had pursued them. Ashden breath was still ragged, his mind racing. Omegas weren’t supposed to have this kind of power.

Ria swayed, exhaustion overtaking her. Ashdan caught her before she could fall, lifting her easily.

"You need rest," he murmured.

She shook her head. "We need to move. More will come."

She was right. The Bloodclaw Pack was relentless. They wouldn’t let an Omega slip through their grasp, especially not one as rare as Ria.

Aedan’s instincts screamed at him to run, to take her somewhere safe. But safety was a luxury neither of them had anymore.

He sniffed the air. The scent of burning wood and blood still lingered, but beneath it, he caught something else—an old scent, faint but familiar.

His jaw tightened.

"I know a place," he said, glancing down at her. "But you might not like it."

Ria gave a tired laugh. "At this point, I’ll take anywhere that doesn’t have Bloodclaws trying to kill me."

Ashdon carried her deeper into the forest, weaving through the trees with ease. Hours passed, the moon giving way to the soft hues of dawn. Eventually, they reached a hidden cave, its entrance veiled by hanging vines and thick moss.

He set Ria down gently. "Stay here. I’ll be back."

She grabbed his wrist, her silver eyes sharp despite her exhaustion. "Where are you going?"

Ashdon hesitated. "Hunting." It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either.

She studied him for a long moment before releasing her grip. "Be careful."

He gave her a nod before slipping into the trees. But his true destination wasn’t prey.

He followed the old scent trail, his claws twitching at his sides. It led him to a clearing where a massive oak stood, its roots twisted and gnarled with age. At its base, a lone figure knelt, fingers tracing symbols carved into the bark.

Ashdon stepped forward, his voice low. "I thought you were dead, Orin."

The figure turned. Golden eyes, much like Ashdon , met his. Orin—his former mentor, the Lycan who had vanished years ago.

"Not dead," Orin said, standing to his full height. "Waiting."

Ashdons fists clenched. "For what?"

"For you," Orin said. "And for the girl."

Ashdon’s breath hitched. "You know about Ria?"

Orin nodded. "I know what she is. And I know why the Bloodclaws won’t stop hunting her."

Ashdons pulse pounded. "Then tell me."

Orin stepped closer, his voice grave. "Because she is more than an Omega. She is the key to the lost throne of the Moonborn."

Ashdon world tilted. The Moonborn—an ancient, vanished race, the first rulers of the Lycans. Their bloodline was said to be extinct. But if Ria was truly one of them…

Then the war was only beginning.