Fated to the Lost Lycan King

Elara POV The iron gate screamed on its hinges. Cold air hit my face like a slap, and with it came the smell I’d tried to forget for three years—pine, blood, and the stench of wolves who thought themselves gods. “Walk,” the guard growled, shoving me forward with the butt of his spear. My bare feet hit the frost-covered stone. Three years in a cage under Blackridge Keep hadn’t made me soft. If anything, it made my bones sharper. Every step sent a jolt of pain up my legs, but I didn’t flinch. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Not again. “Alpha’s orders are clear,” another guard muttered. “The Rogue Daughter goes to the Lost King. If he doesn’t kill her, maybe the curse lifts. If he does… well, one less problem.” Rogue Daughter. That’s all I was to them now. Not Elara. Not the Alpha’s daughter. Just the girl who’d been caged at sixteen and forgotten at seventeen. The forest opened before us, black trees clawing at a sky heavy with storm clouds. Beyond it lay the Deadlands—the place maps stopped and prayers started. Where the last Lycan King was exiled after he tore his own pack apart. Where I was being sent to die. “Wait.” My voice was rough from disuse, but it cut through the night. Both guards stopped. Good. Fear made men stupid, and I needed stupid right now. “If I’m going to die, I’m going to die on my feet. Not dragged like an animal.” The older guard spat. “You’re an animal, girl. A wolfless freak.” Wolfless. The word still felt like a blade under my ribs. Every shifter had a wolf. Every shifter except me. My wolf never came. On my first shift night, while the moon split the sky, I’d stood alone in the clearing while my peers tore into fur and fang. My father’s face that night… I’d never seen so much disappointment and fear in one look. That fear turned to hatred when they found my brother dead the next morning. “Her scent was on him,” they said. “Lies,” I said. No one believed me. So they caged me. Three years, no trial, no voice. Just bread, water, and the sound of my own heartbeat telling me I wasn’t done yet. Now they needed me. Because the Lost Lycan King was waking up. “Move,” the guard said. He didn’t wait this time. We walked for an hour. My legs burned, my lungs burned, but my mind was clear. If I was going to die, I’d die knowing why. And if there was even a 1% chance I could walk out of this alive… I’d take it. The clearing came suddenly, like the forest had been holding its breath. In the center stood a stone altar, older than Blackridge itself. And chained to it was him. Seven feet of scarred muscle, skin pulled tight over corded veins that glowed faintly black under the moon. His hair was a mess of dark gold, matted with dried blood. Eyes closed, chest rising and falling in a rhythm that wasn’t quite human. The Lost Lycan King. Dorian Blackthorn. The legends didn’t do him justice. They called him a monster. A beast who slaughtered his own mate on their mating night. A king who brought a kingdom to its knees and was cursed for it. Up close, he smelled like smoke and iron and something older—like a storm that hadn’t broken yet. “Leave her,” a voice said. It didn’t come from the guards. It came from the shadows. A third man stepped out, cloaked in black, face hidden. My stomach dropped. I knew that posture. That voice. Kade. My uncle. My father’s brother. The one who’d found my brother’s body. “Uncle,” I said. The word tasted like ash. He didn’t look at me. His eyes stayed on Dorian. “The curse weakens when he feeds, Brother. Give her to him. If she lives, the curse breaks. If she dies…” He shrugged. “The problem solves itself.” The guards dropped me. My knees hit stone hard enough to make my vision white. I didn’t cry out. Dorian’s eyes snapped open. Gold. Inhuman, molten gold, ringed with black veins spreading like cracks in glass. He looked at me like I was prey. Like I was a mistake. Like he wanted to tear me apart and couldn’t remember why he shouldn’t. The bond hit me before I could breathe. It was fire and ice down my spine, a pull so violent it stole my breath. My body arched against it, every nerve screaming. Mate. The word slammed into my skull. Impossible. I was wolfless. He was cursed. Mates didn’t work like this. Dorian snarled, chains rattling as he fought against them. His fangs dropped, saliva dripping onto the stone. “Mine,” he growled. Low, guttural, not human at all. Kade smiled under his hood. “See? The curse recognizes her. Kill her, Brother. Or let her kill you. Either way, it ends tonight.” Dorian’s hand shot out, claws extending, aiming straight for my throat. I didn’t run. Running was what got me caged. Instead, I did the only thing a wolfless girl could do. I looked him dead in the eye and said, “If you kill me, you’ll never know who really killed your mate.” The claw stopped half an inch from my skin. His breath was hot, ragged. “What did you say?” “I said,” I whispered, blood roaring in my ears, “I know who killed your mate. And it wasn’t you.” For a second, the gold in his eyes cleared. Confusion. Rage. Pain. Then the black veins spread faster, and his snarl returned. “LIAR!” The chains snapped. --- Dorian POV Pain. Always pain. The curse was a second skin, hot and wrong, chewing at me from the inside. Three hundred years I’d worn it. Three hundred years since I woke up with my mate’s blood on my hands and no memory of how it got there. I didn’t deserve peace. I didn’t deserve her name. I didn’t deserve to remember the way she laughed. So I didn’t. I hunted. I killed. I kept the curse fed so it wouldn’t take control completely. It worked. Mostly. Until tonight. They brought me a girl. Wolfless. Scared. But she didn’t smell scared. She smelled like defiance and old snow and something that made the beast in me go quiet for the first time in centuries. Mate. The word was a curse worse than the one in my veins. Mates didn’t survive me. My last mate didn’t. But this girl… she spoke my mate’s name without fear. “You’re lying,” I snarled, claws out, ready to end it before the curse did. Then she said it. “I know who killed your mate. And it wasn’t you.” The world stopped. No one knew that. No one except me, and I didn’t remember. The curse took memories like it took control. I’d spent centuries trying to dig them back. She knew. My hand shook. My claws trembled half an inch from her throat. Her pulse hammered, but she didn’t look away. Stupid. Brave. Infuriating. “Liar!” The word tore out of me, but it felt hollow. Because part of me— the part buried under three centuries of blood and rage— wanted to believe her. The chains snapped. Not from my strength. From the bond. It flared between us, hot and blinding, and for the first time since I killed my mate, I felt something other than hunger. Recognition. And terror. Because if she was right, if she knew the truth… Then whoever framed me was still out there. And they’d come for her next. The beast roared, and I let it. I surged forward, grabbed her by the arm, and yanked her to her feet. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t scream. “Run,” I growled, pulling her toward the tree line as Kade’s guards drew weapons. “Run, and don’t look back.” She stumbled, then found her footing. “And you?” “If I stay, I kill them. If I go with you, I might kill you.” Her jaw set. “Then we run.” We hit the trees as the first arrow flew. And behind us, Kade’s voice echoed through the night: “Kill the girl. The king is mine.”