Claimed by the Lycan's Mark

Chapter Five: A Ridiculous Proposal

~Aiyana~

I stared up at this man who had shown up from nowhere out of thin air, and referred to himself as the Lycan King, trying to process what kind of "proposal" someone as powerful as him would have for a pathetic, exiled wolf like me who'd just been caught screaming at trees like a lunatic.

Maybe he wanted me to be his personal jester? Dance for his amusement while he threw gold coins at my feet? Or worse… maybe he needed someone to test his food for poison. That seemed about right for my current streak of luck. Or perhaps he was a freak who collected tragic backstories and mine wouSld complete his set.

"Am I that handsome that you can't stop staring?" His deep voice cut through my spiral of increasingly ridiculous theories.

I scoffed, forcing myself to meet those unnervingly intense eyes. "I've seen better. There's this guy at the farmer's market who sells organic honey. He has the whole mysterious creature vibe thing down without the murdery look."

The disapproval that flashed across his face was immediate and terrifying. His jaw tightened, and for a second, I thought I saw his eyes flash gold. My heart thudded against my ribs like a caged bird, but apparently, my mouth hadn't received the memo about self-preservation.

"I mean," I added quickly, "you're definitely in the top ten. Maybe top five if you smiled more and threatened death less."

He took another step closer, and I had to crane my neck to maintain eye contact. Goddess, why did he have to be so tall? It was unnecessarily intimidating. Like being cornered by a very attractive, very deadly tree.

"You're either very brave or very stupid," he mused, circling me slowly like a predator studying prey.

"Can't I be both? I like to think I'm well-rounded." The words tumbled out before I could stop them.

Seriously, what was wrong with me? This man could probably snap me in half with his pinky finger, and here I was, making jokes like we were old friends at a coffee shop.

He stopped directly in front of me, and I caught his scent. It was so distinctly masculine that it made my traitorous already weak wolf perk up with interest.

No, I told her firmly. We just got our heart shredded by one Alpha. We are not doing this again.

"My proposal," he said, his voice thirst-trapping me, "is simple. I need a mate."

I blinked. Then blinked again. Then burst into hysterical laughter.

"Oh goddess," I wheezed, clutching my stomach. "Oh, that's good. That's really good. Did that fleabag Kade put you up to this? Is this some elaborate prank? Where are the hidden cameras?"

His expression remained completely serious, which only made me laugh harder.

"Right, because the notorious anger-filled Lycan King just randomly proposes to crazy women he finds yelling at squirrels in the forest. That's totally normal. What's next, a PowerPoint presentation? 'Top Ten Reasons Why You Should Mate With Me: Number One, I Won't Execute You.'"

"It's not a real mating," he said, seemingly unbothered by my theatrical reaction. "A temporary arrangement."

My laughter died in my throat. "Wait, you're serious?"

"Deadly."

Poor choice of words, but okay.

"So, let me get this straight," I said, holding up a finger. "You, the Lycan King, the most powerful wolf in probably the entire continent, need a fake mate? What, did you lose a bet among your billionaire friends? Is this some weird rich people thing I'm too poor to understand?"

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "My mother."

"Your mother?"

"She's... persistent about me finding a mate. Calls five times a day. Threatens to move into the palace. Has started sending eligible females to every business meeting." He ran a hand through his dark hair, and for a moment, just a moment, he looked almost... normal. Frustrated. Human. Well, as human as a Lycan could look.

"So you want to use me as a mom-repellent?" I asked incredulously. "That's the most ridiculous—"

"You need protection," he interrupted. "You're a rogue now. Do you know what happens to unclaimed females in neutral territory?"

My stomach twisted. I did know. The stories were enough to give anyone nightmares.

"You need resources," he continued. "A new identity. A fresh start. Revenge, perhaps, on that Alpha who… what was it…'sparkles in moonlight'?"

"Don't quote my mental breakdown back at me," I muttered, but my mind was racing. "So, what? We pretend to be mates for a few months, and then what? You toss me out like yesterday's newspaper?"

"You get a generous settlement. Enough to start over anywhere you want. New pack, new life, new identity if you prefer. And during those months, you'll have the protection of the Lycan throne. No one would dare touch you."

I stared at him, searching for the trick, the trap, the inevitable betrayal. But his face remained impassive, giving nothing away.

"What's the catch?" I asked suspiciously. "There's always a catch. Do I have to sign my soul away? Give up my firstborn? Wear a collar with your name on it?"

His lips twitched slightly. "No collar. Just attendance at social functions, convincing public displays of affection, and sharing my residence."

"Sharing your—" I choked. "You mean living with you?"

"How else would we convince anyone it's real?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe we could start with something less insane? Like coffee? Or, here's a wild idea, exchanging last names before proposing cohabitation?"

"You already know my last name. Vale."

"That doesn't count! You said it after I already agreed to have a conversation with you under death threats!"

"I didn't threaten you with death."

"You implied it. Heavily. With your whole…" I gestured vaguely at him, "...everything."

He actually looked amused now, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. "My everything?"

"You know what you're doing with the whole brooding king of darkness thing. Don't play innocent."

"I assure you, no woman has ever accused me of being innocent. You’re my first."

My cheeks heated, and I blamed it on the adrenaline. Definitely the adrenaline. Not the way his voice dropped an octave when he said that, as if he was implying something immoral.

"Okay, let's say I'm crazy enough to consider this," I said, trying to regain control of the conversation. "I have demands and conditions. A whole list, actually."

He raised an eyebrow. "You're negotiating?"

"Um, yes? You think I'm just going to agree to fake-mate the Lycan King without some serious perks? I may be desperate, but I'm not stupid. Well, not completely stupid."

"And what demands would those be?"

"First, I want my own room. With a lock. A really good lock. Maybe two locks. And a deadbolt."

His eyes glinted with something that might have been humor. "And why’s that your first demand? Afraid I'll ravish you in your sleep?"

"Afraid you'll murder me in my sleep, actually, but thanks for adding another concern to my list."

"What else?"

"I want a contractual guarantee that you won't actually kill me when this is over. In writing. Notarized. Maybe blessed by a priestess."

"Reasonable."

"And I want chocolate. Like, an unhealthy amount of chocolate. The good kind, not that cheap stuff."

"Chocolate." He said it like he was testing the word.

"It's a dealbreaker," I said firmly. "Also, I need clothes. Real clothes, not whatever fancy torture devices rich people call fashion. And—"

"Save it," he interrupted.

I stared at him, visibly annoyed. "Save it?"

"The rest of your demands. Save them for when we get to my place and the contract is drawn up." He pulled out his phone, typing something quickly. "My car will be here in ten minutes."

"Wait, what? Your place? Now?" I took a step back, suddenly realizing how insane this all was. "I haven't agreed to anything!"

"Haven't you?" He pocketed his phone and looked at me with those piercing eyes. "You're negotiating terms. That suggests agreement in principle."

"That suggests I'm stalling while I figure out if you're actually insane or if I'm having some kind of exhaustion-induced hallucination!"

"Would you prefer to take your chances in the forest?" He gestured to the darkening woods around us. "Alone? With no pack, no protection, nowhere to go?"

The reality of my situation crashed over me like cold water. He was right. What were my options? Wander until some less charitable Alpha found me? Try to make it in human society with no money, no identity, no anything?

"This is crazy," I whispered.

"Yes," he agreed simply. "It is."

"You could have anyone. Literally anyone. Supermodels, princesses, probably actual goddesses if you asked nicely."

"I don't ask nicely."

"Clearly. But why me? I'm less than nobody now."

He studied me for a long moment, and I felt exposed under his gaze, like he could see through all my sarcasm and bravado to the scared, broken girl underneath.

"Because," he said finally, "you're the first person in years who hasn't bowed, simpered, or stammered in my presence. You called me Mr. Possessive."

"That's a terrible reason to fake-mate someone."

"Is it worse than your reason for considering it?"

He had me there.

A low, expensive-sounding engine purred in the distance, getting closer. My time to decide was running out.

"If I say yes," I said slowly, "and I'm not saying yes, but if I did... what happens right now? Tonight?"

"We go to the palace. You get a room… with locks," he added, seemingly amused. "Tomorrow, we draw up the contract. You list your demands. If we can't come to an agreement, you're free to leave with enough money to get you somewhere safe."

"And if we do come to an agreement?"

His smile was sharp, dangerous, and absolutely should not have made my pulse race the way it did.

"Then, little hurricane," he said, his voice a dark promise, "you become the Lycan Queen."

The black car pulled up behind him, and a driver got out, opening the back door without a word.

Lucien stood beside the open door like he had all the time in the world, waiting for my decision.

"Well?" he asked, and there was something in his voice that sounded like a challenge, maybe, or curiosity.

I looked at the car, at him, at the forest where I'd been screaming at trees an hour ago. My life had already imploded. What was one more terrible decision?

"If you murder me," I said, stepping toward the car, "I'm going to haunt you. I'll be the most annoying ghost you've ever met. I'll hide your socks and move your furniture and—"

"Get in the car, Aiyana."

I paused at the door, looking up at him. The way he said my name, or perhaps the way he ordered me to get in the car had my throat drying up. Something about the way he said it made me shiver.

As I slid into the leather seats, only one thought echoed through my mind:

What the hell have I just agreed to?