The Royal Forfeiture
884 Words
The silence in the ballroom was so heavy it felt like a physical weight pressing against my lungs. Jax’s hand was still hovering in the air, a pathetic fist aimed at a girl he thought was a nameless servant. He looked like a statue of a coward.
At my feet, the Lycan King was still on one knee.
Killian didn't look up at the crowd. He didn't acknowledge the gasps or the sound of my father dropping his glass. He focused entirely on my shoe. With a steady hand, he used his five-thousand-dollar handkerchief to wipe the red wine from my foot. He treated my skin like it was made of ancient porcelain, his movements slow and terrifyingly calm.
When he finished, he stood up. He didn't just rise; he loomed. The air around him felt like it was vibrating, a low-frequency hum that made the marrow in my bones ache.
"Who touched you, little wolf?"
His voice was a low, jagged rumble. It wasn't a question. It was a demand for a sacrifice.
I looked up at him, my vision blurred by the wine stinging my eyes. I felt the silver collar around my neck grow hot, reflecting the gold fire in his gaze.
"It doesn't matter, sir," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I'm just a dud. I’m not worth the mess."
Killian’s jaw tightened, the muscles jumping under his skin. He turned his head slowly, his eyes locking onto Jax. The Alpha of the Silver-Moon pack actually whimpered. He took a stumbling step back, his face draining of color until he looked like a corpse in a tuxedo.
"A dud?" Killian repeated. The words were quiet, but they carried more power than an Alpha’s command. "You stand in my house, under my protection, and mock a woman carrying the Royal Bloodline?"
The room collectively stopped breathing. I saw my father’s hand shake so hard that his scotch spilled over his knuckles. Jax’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. He looked at my stomach, then back at Killian, the realization hitting him like a physical blow to the gut.
"King Blackwood," Jax stammered, his voice climbing an octave. "I didn't know... she was rejected. She’s a Donovan failure. I was just—"
"You were signing your own death warrant," Killian interrupted. He stepped into Jax’s space, forcing the younger man to crane his neck back. Killian didn't shift, but I could see the shadow of the beast behind his eyes. "Alpha Jax, your pack lands are forfeited to the Crown by sunrise. You have twelve hours to move your people into the wasteland before I burn the Silver-Moon forest to ash. Your lineage ends tonight."
"You can't do that!" my father shouted, finally finding his voice as his retirement fund vanished into thin air. "The contract—"
Killian didn't even turn around. "The contract just became a treaty of war. If you speak again, I’ll start the executions with you."
The room devolved into a panicked murmur, but the sound began to fade out for me. A sudden, sharp spike of heat ignited in my womb.
It wasn't the soft, healing warmth I felt when I touched Killian’s hand in the dark. This was a jagged, silver fire. It felt like someone had dropped a hot coal into my gut. I gasped, my knees buckling as a wave of raw, predatory power flooded my nervous system.
"Vespera?" Killian’s hand was on my waist instantly, his grip the only thing keeping me upright.
I couldn't answer. At five weeks, there shouldn't have been anything to feel. A human fetus is the size of a seed. But this wasn't human.
Inside me, something moved.
It wasn't a kick. It was a violent, muscular shift. I felt a phantom weight in my belly, a sudden expansion of power that hit me like a lightning strike. Then, a sound vibrated through my very DNA—a high, piercing howl that didn't come from a throat. It came from the blood.
The baby shifted for the first time, and it wasn't just a movement. It was a claim.
The force of the internal shift sent a shockwave through the air. The crystal champagne glasses in the hands of the guests ten feet away didn't just crack, they disintegrated. Hundreds of glasses shattered at once, showering the Alphas in a rain of jagged shards and foam.
The lights in the ballroom flickered and died, leaving us in the terrifying gold glow of Killian’s eyes.
I clutched my stomach, my fingers digging into the wet black silk. I looked up at the Lycan King, the world spinning around me as the silver heat began to leak from my own skin.
"Killian," I choked out, the terror and the wonder fighting for space in my chest. "It moved. It... it just howled."
Killian’s expression shifted from rage to a predatory awe. He placed his massive hand over mine, his palm covering my womb. The moment he touched me, the baby shifted again, responding to its father’s strength.
He looked at Jax, who was bleeding from a dozen tiny cuts from the shattered glass, and then at my father.
"Get out," Killian growled, the sound vibrating through the floorboards. "Before the heir decides it wants to feed."
- Writer
