The Omega Claimed By The Lycan King: Twice Rejected, Once Crowned

CHAPTER ONE The morning smelled like betrayal. Aira knew it the moment she woke, her skin clammy, her wolf whining low in her chest. The bond—that fragile, fraying tether between her and Alpha Jarek—had been a dull ache for months. But today, it felt like a noose. Outside her den, the Blackwater Pack was already stirring. She could hear the low murmurs, the too-quick footsteps of omegas who didn’t want to meet her eyes. They knew. Of course they knew. Today is the day he casts you aside. --- She dressed slowly, fingers trembling as she tied the blue ribbons into her hair—the color of bond-hopefuls. The wool of her gray omega’s shift scratched against her skin, a reminder of her place. Not for much longer. Old Mother Nisha came to her before the ceremony, her gnarled hands pressing a vial into Aira’s palm. Moon-tears. The bitter draught given to those whose bonds were severed. "Drink it after," Nisha murmured. "It will dull the pain." Aira curled her fingers around the vial. Nothing will dull this. --- The path to the Great Hall was lined with pack members. Some watched her with pity. Others—Lira’s friends, the warriors who had always sneered at an omega daring to dream of being Luna—smirked as she passed. Lira herself stood at the foot of the Hall, golden-haired and smug in her beta’s leathers. Her scent—honeysuckle and something vicious—clung to the air. She already wears his mark. Aira’s stomach twisted. Her wolf stirred restlessly inside her, a low growl echoing in the back of her mind. “He’s ours. He has to be.” Do you still believe that? Aira asked, her throat tight. “The bond is real. I feel it. You feel it too.” She did. Goddess help her, she did. But there was something else beneath it now—an ache, a premonition. It wasn’t just fear. It was grief waiting to be named. What if he chooses her? “Then he’s a fool.” The defiance in her wolf’s voice was strong. Fierce. But it couldn’t steady her trembling legs or the sinking in her chest. She’d imagined this day a hundred times. The day she would finally stop being just an omega. The day the pack would see her, not as a servant in gray shifts, but as a Luna worthy of standing beside her mate. She had dared to hope. And that hope would kill her before Jarek ever could. --- The Great Hall was a tomb of ice and shadow, the obsidian pillars glinting in the torchlight. At the center, on his throne of antlers and iron, sat Alpha Jarek. He didn’t look at her. "Aira vexley of Blackwater." His voice was a whip-crack in the silence. "Step forward." Her legs moved without thought. The Bond Stone waited for her, its surface carved with the names of every rejected mate in pack history. Soon, mine will join them. She knelt. The stone burned cold against her bare knees. Jarek finally met her eyes. His gaze was empty. "You were never meant to be Luna," he said, loud enough for the entire pack to hear. "An omega cannot lead. You were a mistake." The words carved into her ribs. Then—his claws unsheathed. The bond screamed before he even moved. And then, in a voice colder than the moon above them, he added, "I, Alpha Jarek Thornwell, reject you, Aira Vexley, as my fated mate." When his hand slashed down, it wasn’t just the tether between them that broke. It was her. The pain was a living thing, a wildfire in her veins, a knife in her skull. She didn’t realize she was screaming until her throat tore raw. Memories flashed— Jarek’s laugh as she pinned him in training. His teeth at her throat, whispering "Mine." The way he looked at her yesterday—like she was nothing. The bond didn’t just snap. It shattered. And then— Silence. --- She didn’t remember leaving the Hall. The world was a blur of whispers and staring eyes. Someone—a beta, maybe—reached for her. A growl from the throne sent them scrambling back. No one touches discarded things. Her den had been stripped bare. No furs, no scent of pine and iron that meant him. Just emptiness. And then— A glint under the floorboards. Her father’s dagger. "Never helpless," he’d told her once. Her fingers closed around the hilt. --- The moon was rising, blood-red and hungry. Somewhere, the pack was celebrating. Lira’s laughter curled through the trees like smoke. Aira pressed the dagger to her palm. Let the blood drip onto the Bond Stone’s cursed carvings. "An omega cannot be Luna," Jarek had said. Fine. Then she would be something worse. A shadow moved in the trees. "They always discard the worthy ones first." Aira didn’t turn. "What do you want?" The stranger’s smile was a blade. "To watch you burn them all."