Lycan King’s Cursed Mate

Chapter 3

***Malik***

The moon hung high in the sky, bathing the world in its ethereal glow. I stood before Ayla, caught at the crossroads of uncertainty and deep yearning. There was a pull between us, a magnetic force that defied explanation, igniting my senses and drowning out all other thoughts. The forest around us whispered secrets and warnings, yet all I could focus on was the woman before me—the undeniable essence of my spirit's counterpart.

My heart thundered as realization crashed over me. "You’re my mate," I repeated, declaring the truth I felt in my bones, the vibrant hum of our connected souls. But in her emerald eyes, I saw a flicker of something else—fear.

"Ayla," I uttered her name softly, savoring the way it rolled off my tongue. "Why did you run?"

Her gaze faltered, brimming with painful memories and unbroken scars. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” she whispered, trembling. “There are forces at play that go beyond our bond. I’m cursed. Cursed in a way that isn’t good for either of us.”

“I can handle it,” I offered, stepping closer, reaching out slowly to touch her arm. “Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”

But she recoiled as if my touch burned. "You don’t understand! So just reject me and go back to your life." She chocked on her words

I stilled, my heart sinking. “Reject?” The word felt heavier than steel. “What do you mean? Wolves and Lycans don’t deal with rejections easily.”

Ayla took a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper as though speaking aloud could summon the very darkness she feared. “It... it is what’s best for everyone.”

I sensed a mixture of defiance and sorrow in her eyes—a fire that had weathered lifetimes yet still flickered with hope. “No,” I insisted, “I can.. I won’t reject you. Not when I’ve been waiting once I turned eighteen. That was ten years ago.”

Before she could respond, a rustling in the underbrush caught both our attention, turning our hearts to stone. Shadows flitted amongst the trees, and I instinctively shifted into the defensive stance I had honed through years of training. My senses flared, aware that we were not alone.

Ayla’s expression shifted to one of determination. She drew the dagger from her belt, its glimmer reflecting the firelight. “Stay behind me,” she commanded, even though I craved the opportunity to shield her.

Moments later, two skinwalkers emerged—shapeshifters whose forms shifted from human to beast in an instant, blending seamlessly into the wilds of the forest. Their eyes glowed, a menacing yellow that cut through the darkness, filled with malice and hunger.

“Step back,” I growled, my Lycan instincts surging to protect my mate.

They encircled us, their raucous laughter ringing like death knells, echoing through the trees. “A King and his little plaything,” one sneered, its voice dripping with malice. “How quaint.”

“She’ll die just like the rest,” another added, pacing like a predator targeting its prey.

“Not if I have a say in it,” I snapped. The air thickened with tension as I squared my shoulders, preparing for the onslaught. “You don’t belong here.”

With a tangled roar, they lunged toward us, and instinct took over. I shifted fully into my Lycan form, muscles expanding, bones cracking, fur rippling across my body—a transformation that surged with raw power. Instinct screamed at me to protect what was mine.

A primal battle ensued. I lunged at the nearest skinwalker, my claws slashing through the air. The creature snarled, attempting to shift, but I was faster. The horror of death flared in the night, clawing its way through my heart even as I fought. I could feel Ayla’s presence at my back, her fierce determination fueling my strength.

I linked my second to have members of my pack as backup. I had just found my mate and I wasn’t going to have her face any danger. With a furious growl I charged the one closest me, but when he fell two more had appeared. It seemed to go on for about five minutes, for every skinwalker that fell, more seemed to appear from the shadows—born from the darkness that festered, filling my chest with dread.

“Alya!” I commanded in my head before I remembered she wasn’t like me. She wasn’t apart of my packs mind link. Alya, my voice growled again but only my lycans roar escaped me. In my periphery, I saw her darting, her lithe form moving with remarkable grace as she maneuvered to avoid a skinwalker coming her way.

With a swift motion, she lunged forward, her dagger glistening. A skinwalker fell, collapsing to the ground with a surprised gasp, but not without injury—a deep gash formed in her side. Pain streaked through me at the sight, the bond pulling hard in the direction of her suffering. She had moved like she had done this a thousand times, not stopping for anything not even the wound that bleed. I could smell it, it was hers. It was a mixture of her sense flowing through the air and I needed to kill the rest of the skin walkers before she lost too much blood.

“Ayla!” I said as I shifted back into my male form. A danger growl left me, a growl of despair clawing at my soul as I dispatched another skinwalker approaching from my side, my concentration torn.

Blood smeared the forest floor as the night raged on, and I began to recognize the inevitability that lay before us—the way these encounters always played out as darkness descended. But just as my heart sank further into despair, we found ourselves back-to-back—the stakes raised higher than ever before.

“How bad is it?,” I murmured softly, meeting her fierce gaze as we prepared to take on the remaining attackers.

“I’ll be fine.” She whispered back, her voice sounding pained.

“No matter what happens, I swear I will protect you.” I promised.

The words seemed to resonate in the air, catching the attention of the skinwalkers. They hesitated, sensing the charged energy swirling around us—a connection forged through time, binding our fates.

Yet in the distance, the sound of howls surged through the trees—my packs presence tainting the air, a reminder that I had a pack. My second, in his Life can form came through the darkness and lifted a skinwalker from a feet in front of Ayla. I charged forward into the fray, as the rest of pack emerged with Ayla not far from me.

The dance of battle resumed, our bodies moving as one, a blend of light and shadow intertwining as we fought fiercely against those who sought our end.

Somewhere deep inside, I knew this was easy win. The real struggle would be afterwards, when my mate would most likely tell me to reject her. I wasn’t going to define our fate, not when she was a gift from the moon goddess. But even amidst chaos, the ember of possibility burned brightly—sticky, sweet, and unyielding.

The question echoed between us as we fought—together at last, two souls fated to be yet more be didn’t seem to want anything to do with the other.

A lone skinwalker turned and ran, realising his companions were all dead. My second too the chase, five warriors following suit. I shifted back into my human form and turned to find Ayla on the ground holding her stomach. I moved so fast to her side that I saw her pained face, the moonlit showing her skin paling. She opened her mouth to speak but her eye rolled back as she fell unconscious.

“She needs to be patched up, where is the pack doctor?” I growled the command to my thrid.

“I’m here.” He answered and came running towards me, kneeling down beside my mate and I.

“Can you save her?” I asked my pack doctor.

He nodded, “she just lost blood.”

“Who is she?” My third asked.

“My mate.” I said, as I stepped back for the first ack doctor to help her.

I sighed as my mind wondered. When she would wake, she would be in the safety of my kingdom. And I would do everything in my power to prove to her that I would never reject her. Not when fate had drawn us together, not when I had now found her, my mate.