The Lycan King’s Forbidden Craving

Chapter One: The Night I Was Meant to Die Elara's POV They dressed me in white like I was getting married instead of murdered. I stood in front of the cracked mirror in our cottage, watching my mother's trembling hands braid flowers into my dark hair. She hadn't spoken all morning. Neither had I. What was there to say? We both knew this day would come since the moment I was born under the cursed moon twenty years ago. "You look beautiful," Mother whispered, her voice breaking on the last word. I touched her wrinkled hand. "It's okay. I'm ready." That was a lie. Nobody is ever ready to die. But I had to be brave for her. She had already lost my father to sickness and my brother to war. I wouldn't make her last memory of me one filled with screaming and tears. The white ceremonial dress felt heavy on my shoulders. It dragged across the dirt floor as I moved toward the door. Outside, I could hear the village gathering. They would walk me to the sacred altar in the forest where the priests waited. Where I would pay the price for sins I didn't commit. My ancestors had stolen power from the Moon Goddess centuries ago. They thought they could cheat death and become immortal like the lycans who ruled over us. But the Goddess caught them. She cursed our bloodline instead of simply killing them. Every generation, one daughter had to be sacrificed under the full moon. My grandmother had been the sacrifice before me. Now it was my turn. I stepped outside into the cool evening air. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of red and orange. Beautiful and terrible at the same time. Villagers lined both sides of the dirt path, their heads bowed. Some cried quietly. Others looked relieved. I understood why. My death would protect them for another generation. Father Benedict, the head priest, waited at the front of the crowd. His wrinkled face showed no emotion. He had performed this ritual before with my grandmother. To him, I was just another name in a long list of necessary deaths. "It is time, child," he said. I nodded and took my place behind him. The procession began moving toward the forest. Mother walked beside me, clutching my hand so tight it hurt. I didn't pull away. Let her hold on as long as she could. The forest grew darker as we walked deeper into it. Ancient trees blocked out the dying sunlight. Strange sounds echoed around us, animals moving through the brush, birds calling warnings to each other. This was lycan territory. Humans only came here for one reason. After what felt like hours, we reached the clearing. The sacred altar stood in the center, a massive stone slab covered in old bloodstains. My stomach turned when I saw it. How many girls like me had died on that stone? How many mothers had walked away alone? The priests began their chanting. Words in the old language that I didn't understand. They formed a circle around the altar while Father Benedict gestured for me to approach. This was it. The moment I had been dreading my entire life. I climbed onto the altar and lay down on my back. The stone felt ice cold through my thin dress. Above me, the sky had turned completely dark. Stars appeared one by one, and then, there it was. The full moon rising over the trees, huge and silver and merciless. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst from my chest. I wanted to run. Every instinct screamed at me to fight, to scramble off this altar and disappear into the forest. But where would I go? The curse would follow me. It would find me. Better to die here with dignity than be hunted down like an animal. The chanting grew louder. Father Benedict raised a silver knife above his head, and I closed my eyes. Then everything stopped. A howl split through the night, long and haunting and full of rage. The priests fell silent. I opened my eyes and saw them backing away from the altar, their faces pale with terror. Something was coming through the forest. I could hear branches snapping, heavy footsteps getting closer. The air itself seemed to grow colder. And then he appeared. The Lycan King. I had heard stories about him my entire life. They called him the Blood King, the Soul Eater, the Immortal Monster. He was supposed to be a legend, something parents told their children to make them behave. But he was real. He was here. He walked into the clearing in his human form, but there was nothing human about him. He stood over seven feet tall with shoulders broad enough to block out the moon. His hair was black as midnight, hanging loose around a face that might have been handsome if not for the coldness in his eyes. Those eyes glowed silver in the darkness, the mark of an ancient lycan. He wore black leather and armor that had seen countless battles. Blood stained his hands. Fresh blood. Father Benedict dropped to his knees. "Your Majesty. We did not expect…" "Silence." The King's voice was deep and sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. He walked toward the altar, toward me. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. He stopped right beside the stone and looked down at me. His silver eyes traveled over my face, and something strange flickered across his expression. Surprise? Recognition? It was gone before I could understand it. Then he leaned down and breathed in deeply, like he was smelling me. His entire body went rigid. When he looked at me again, his eyes had changed. They burned with something darker than hunger. Something I didn't have a name for. "Mine," he said.