Lycan King’s Cursed Mate

Chapter 2

***Ayla***

The rhythmic beat of the horse's hooves against the soft earth was the only sound that accompanied my flight. The rising sun cast long shadows before me, stretching across the rolling hills like grasping fingers. I urged the horse onward, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs, the image of Malik's emerald gaze burned into my memory.

It wasn't just the recognition in his eyes that haunted me; it was the depth of it. It was as if he saw through the veil of time, through the accumulated years of sorrow and loss, straight to the core of my being. And I, in turn, had seen the same flicker of acknowledgment in him. The echoes of Dorian, Caelum, and all the others who had held my heart resonated within his very essence—a familiar, agonizing song that had played out countless times before, a beautiful melody that always ended in a funeral dirge. I had been foolish to pause, to let my gaze linger on his. It was a momentary lapse in a centuries-long vigil, a flicker of hope that I had no right to feel.

As I galloped forward, the land around me began to change. The gentle hills gave way to a denser forest, the trees growing taller and thicker, their branches intertwining to form a shadowy canopy overhead. The air grew cooler, and the sounds of the forest—the rustling of leaves, the chirping of birds, the distant howl of a wolf—filled my ears. I slowed the horse to a walk, my senses on high alert. I was no longer in the familiar, bustling world of Dorilay. This was wilder, more untamed territory, and I knew that danger lurked in every shadow. Skinwalkers weren't the only creatures that roamed these lands, and my vulnerability as a human was amplified tenfold.

Just because I was cursed to roam the earth it didn’t mean that I still couldn’t get injured and that was the second most pain I had to live with.

The further I went, the more the forest seemed to press in on me, its shadows growing deeper and more menacing. My horse, a sturdy bay with a gentle nature, grew skittish. Its ears flickered, its head tossing nervously. A deep guttural growl, low enough to be a tremor in the earth, rumbled through the undergrowth. I froze, my hand flying to the dagger at my belt. My heart hammered, a frantic drum against my ribs. It was a sound I knew all too well, a sound that had heralded the end for so many who had foolishly ventured into these parts. It was the call of a Lycan, a creature far more dangerous than a simple wolf. The horse whinnied in terror, its legs shaking. I patted its neck, my voice a soothing whisper, “Easy now, we’re fine.” I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince the horse or myself.

As the hours passed, the sun began to sink below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange, purple, and gold. I needed to find shelter soon before darkness fully enveloped me. I scanned the surrounding forest, searching for a suitable clearing or cave, a place where I could rest without fear of being discovered. I came across a small clearing, nestled beside a babbling brook. It was sheltered on three sides by dense thickets of thorny bushes, providing a natural barrier against unwanted visitors. I dismounted the horse and stretched my stiff limbs, grateful for the chance to move. The horse, sensing my relief, nuzzled my shoulder, its warm breath against my neck.

"Thank you," I whispered, stroking its velvety nose. "You've been a good friend."

I set about making a small camp, gathering dry twigs and branches to arrange into a fire pit. With a few sparks from my flint and steel, I coaxed a flame to life, watching it greedily devour the tinder. The fire provided warmth and light, casting dancing shadows among the trees. As I sat beside the fire, I allowed myself a moment to reflect on the events of the day. The encounter with Malik had shaken me to my core and stirred emotions I had long tried to suppress, reminding me of the endless cycle of love and loss that defined my existence.

Dorian had been the first—a poet with a soul as bright as a star, who had seen the universe in my eyes. He had died in my arms, a fever taking him in the prime of his life. I had held his hand as his light faded, the weight of his unfulfilled potential a crushing blow. Then there was Caelum, a warrior with a heart of gold and a strength that could move mountains. He had been a king, a protector, and a lover who had promised to shield me from the world. He had fallen in battle, a Lycan blade piercing his heart. The memory of his final moments, his gaze locked on mine as the light departed, haunted me. Each of these men had been a different face, a different name, connected to me by a golden thread that always ended in tragedy.

Was it possible that this time could be different? Could Malik, with his Lycan strength and unwavering gaze, truly be my mate, the one destined for me? Or was I merely deluding myself, clinging to a false hope that would inevitably lead to deeper heartbreak? The thought of sharing my burden with someone filled me with trepidation. I had kept my secret hidden for so long, guarding it jealously from the world. To reveal it now, to risk exposing myself to judgment and disbelief, was a terrifying prospect. But there was something magnetic about Malik that drew me to him, an undeniable pull that I couldn't ignore. It felt as if our souls were connected by an invisible thread, woven together across the ages. Despite the fear gnawing at my insides, I couldn't help but wonder if he was the one who could finally set me free.

The howl of a wolf in the distance snapped me back to reality. It was a lonely, mournful sound—a reminder of the wildness that surrounded me. I shivered, pulling my cloak tighter around me. The night was growing colder, and the darkness seemed to press in, filled with unseen dangers. I banked the fire, ensuring it would last through the night, and settled down to sleep, using my saddle as a pillow. The horse stood guard beside me, its ears twitching and senses alert. I closed my eyes, but sleep was slow to come. My mind raced, filled with thoughts of Malik and the unknown future lying ahead.

As I drifted off to sleep, dreams entwined with my troubled thoughts. In one moment, I was in a field of wildflowers, laughter ringing in my ears. Dorian danced beneath the sun, vibrant and alive. In the next, the scene shifted; he was gone, replaced by Caelum, guiding me through the forest. The air grew heavy, branches twisted like gnarled claws, and Caelum's face abruptly distorted, his teeth sharpening into fangs. A piercing howl shattered my tranquil world, splintering the vision into jagged shards of terror. I was running, barefoot and afraid, through a forest of thorns and shadows, pursued by the echoing baying of a pack. I stumbled, my ankle twisting, and as I fell, I saw them: a dozen pairs of glowing yellow eyes, closing in for the kill.

My eyes snapped open. The fire was a small, flickering beacon, and the horse was no longer beside me. Its absence knifed through my heart. The saddle remained, but the air was thick with a scent I recognized instantly: a Lycan. Clean, like pine and fresh rain, yet with an undercurrent of something wild and dangerous. A low growl rumbled behind me, and I spun around, my hand fumbling for my dagger.

Malik stood there, a silhouette against the night sky, his emerald eyes glowing faintly in the dark. He wasn't in his Lycan form, yet his presence was just as imposing as ever. The dagger felt useless in my grip. “Why are you following me?” I whispered, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to sound strong.

“I was worried,” he said, his voice a low, vibrating rumble. “I felt a disturbance. Something was off in the magic.”

“The horse is gone,” I managed to say, raw agony rising in my throat. “Did you…?” The words stuck like thorns.

“No,” he replied, his tone firm, filled with urgency. “I am not here to harm you, Alya. I sent her back toward the village. She’ll be fine.” He took a careful step closer, the air between us thickening with an undeniable tension. “I have to know. Tell me what I felt when our eyes met. It was something… significant.”

“You felt nothing,” I retorted, the brittle lie barely disguising my turmoil.

He stepped closer, invading my space, so close that I could feel his warmth, both comforting and terrifying. “What I felt was a connection, a call,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re my mate, aren’t you?”

The shock of his revelation rippled through me, stealing my breath. He believed we were destined for one another, bound by fate, but he knew nothing of the curse that tainted my existence. Would revealing my past only put him at risk?

“Who… who are you?” I managed to ask, the words trembling on my lips.

His eyes, reflecting the fire’s flickering glow, held a universe of longing and determination. “I am Malik, son of the Lycan king,” he said, his presence brimming with unyielding hope. “And I will protect you. What is your name?”

I hesitated but decided that I might as well tell him. “Ayla.”

“Ayla.” He tested my name on his tongue and my heart beat at it. That last time he had said my name was long ago, in another time, another life.

Everything around us shifted, the weight of the past pressing down as I stared at him, teetering between fear and something deeper—a compelling yearning. A transformation was at hand, but the question lingered: Could we break the cycle of despair? Or was I destined to face yet another heart-wrenching loss?

In that moment, as the shadows danced around us and the night deepened, everything seemed to coalesce. The past swirled around us like fog, merging into the present—a tangled web of fate, love, and a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, this time, we could forge a different ending.