The Devil's Hidden Mate

The King's Claim

I didn't wake up to the biting, freezing cold of the Dead Lands. I woke up to fire.

Not the agonizing fire of a broken mate bond, but a deep, enveloping warmth that seemed to sink directly into my aching bones. I gasped, my eyes fluttering open.

I wasn't in the snow anymore. I was lying on the largest, softest bed I had ever seen, buried under a mountain of heavy, luxurious black furs and silk sheets. The room around me was massive, built from dark, ancient stone and rich mahogany wood. A colossal stone fireplace dominated the far wall, a roaring fire casting dancing golden shadows across the room.

It was a fortress. A king's chamber.

I tried to sit up, but a sharp jolt of pain shot through my chest, a brutal reminder of Kaelen’s rejection. I winced, falling back against the mountain of pillows.

"Be still," a voice rumbled.

The sound came from the darkest corner of the room. It was so deep it vibrated through the floorboards and traveled straight up my spine.

From the shadows, the mountain of a man emerged.

Without the heavy winter cloak, he was even more terrifying. He was impossibly tall, his massive chest and broad shoulders straining against a simple, dark unbuttoned shirt. Every inch of his body was carved with lethal, predatory muscle and scattered with faded silver battle scars. His jaw was sharp, covered in a dark, rough shadow of a beard, and his hair was raven-black, falling slightly over his forehead.

He was, without a doubt, the most devastatingly gorgeous man I had ever laid eyes on. But it was his eyes that stole the breath from my lungs. The crimson red glow was gone, replaced by a pair of mesmerizing, striking storm-gray eyes that locked onto mine with an intensity that made my skin flush.

"Lycan..." I whispered, my voice hoarse.

He stepped closer, moving with that same silent, phantom-like grace. "Valerius," he corrected softly. "My name is Valerius."

The Devil of the North. The Lycan King. He was standing in my bedroom—no, I was in his bed.

Before I could panic, the heavy oak door creaked open. An older man with silver hair and kind eyes walked in, carrying a leather bag. The scent of herbs and antiseptic followed him.

"Ah, the little wolf is awake," the older man said, offering a gentle smile. "I am Silas, the royal healer. You gave us quite a scare, my lady."

Valerius didn't look at the healer. His storm-gray eyes never left my face. "Report, Silas."

The healer stepped up to the edge of the bed. He looked nervous, his hands trembling slightly as he pulled a glowing crystal from his bag—a diagnostic stone used by high-ranking pack doctors.

"Her physical wounds are healing quickly," Silas began, his voice tight. "The frostbite was reversed just in time. However... the trauma to her soul is severe. A forced rejection from a fated mate is usually a death sentence for an Omega."

I looked down at my hands. The shame burned my throat. I waited for the Lycan King to laugh, to realize he had picked up a piece of trash from the forest floor.

Instead, a low, menacing growl ripped from Valerius's chest. "She is not an Omega," he snarled, the Lycan command so absolute it made the windows rattle. "Her wolf is dormant because she was surrounded by weaklings who suppressed her. And her soul will heal. The true mate bond will overwrite the fake one."

I froze. Fake one?

"What do you mean?" I whispered.

Valerius stepped closer to the bed, his large hand resting on the mattress near my hip. The heat radiating from his skin was intoxicating. "The Moon Goddess pairs wolves to ensure the survival of packs. That is a secondary bond. What Kaelen severed was a biological tie," Valerius explained, his voice softening just for me. "But Lycans do not have secondary bonds. We have True Mates. One soul, split into two bodies. You were always mine, Elara. The universe just made you wait for me."

My heart did a violent flip in my chest. Mine. The way he said it wasn't just a statement. It was a vow.

Silas cleared his throat, pulling my attention back. The older man looked pale, staring down at the glowing crystal in his hand. The crystal had turned a bright, pulsing shade of purple.

"My King," Silas stammered, taking a step back as if he were holding a bomb. "There... there is something else."

Valerius’s eyes snapped to the healer. "Speak."

Silas swallowed hard, his eyes darting to my stomach. "The young lady’s body is going through extreme stress. Not just from the rejection... but because her body is trying to protect a life. My King... she is with child. Approximately six weeks along."

The room plunged into a deafening, horrifying silence.

The blood drained from my face. My hands instinctively flew to my flat stomach. Pregnant.

The memories I had buried deep inside my mind came violently rushing back. Six weeks ago. The night of the Alpha’s coronation ceremony. Kaelen had found me in the kitchens. He had been charming, intoxicating. He pushed me into the shadows, whispering that he saw me, that I was beautiful, that I was his secret. I was a naive, desperate Omega starved for affection. I gave him my innocence on the cold stone floor of the pantry, believing his lies.

But when the mating bond snapped into place yesterday, proving to the world that we were meant to be, his shame overpowered his lust. He couldn't stomach the idea of presenting the "pack maid" as his Luna. So, he threw me away.

And now, I was carrying his bastard.

Panic seized my throat like a vice. I scrambled backward on the bed, pressing my back flat against the cold stone headboard. My breathing turned erratic.

He’s going to kill me, my mind screamed.

A Lycan King, the most territorial predator on the planet, had just found his fated mate—only to discover she was pregnant with the child of the Alpha who threw her away. In the werewolf world, an Alpha would instantly execute a female for carrying another male's pup. It was a threat to the bloodline.

"Get out," Valerius commanded.

It wasn't a yell. It was a lethally calm whisper that was infinitely more terrifying.

Silas didn't hesitate. He grabbed his bag and bolted from the room, slamming the heavy oak door shut behind him.

We were alone.

I squeezed my eyes shut, tears finally breaking free and spilling hot down my cheeks. I curled my knees to my chest, trying to shield my stomach. "Please," I sobbed, my voice breaking. "Please, don't hurt it. I didn't know. I swear I didn't know."

The mattress dipped.

I flinched, bracing for the lethal strike of his claws.

Instead, two massive, impossibly warm hands gently wrapped around my wrists, pulling them away from my face. I opened my tear-filled eyes. Valerius was hovering over me, one knee on the bed, trapping me between his muscular thighs.

His eyes weren't gray anymore. They were burning, glowing crimson red. But the fury in his face wasn't directed at me.

"He touched you," Valerius growled, his fangs elongating, pressing against his bottom lip. The sheer violence in his aura was suffocating. "That pathetic, weak excuse for a dog put his hands on my Queen."

"I'm sorry," I cried, trembling violently. "I'm ruined. I'm carrying his—"

"Quiet."

Valerius shifted his weight. He moved his large, calloused hand from my wrist and placed it flat against my stomach. His palm was so large it covered my entire abdomen.

I held my breath, waiting for him to press down. Waiting for him to end the life growing inside me.

But his hand was gentle. So gentle it shattered my heart. A surge of warm, golden Lycan magic poured from his palm, sinking through my skin and wrapping around the tiny, fragile life inside my womb. It felt like a warm blanket.

Inside my mind, Lyra whimpered in pure awe.

"You are not ruined," Valerius rumbled, his face lowering until his lips were inches from mine. His breath smelled like dark spices and impending war. "You are my True Mate. Everything you are, everything you bring with you, is mine to protect."

I stared at him, completely paralyzed. "But... the baby... it's Kaelen's..."

"No," Valerius interrupted, his crimson eyes locking onto mine with an absolute, undeniable authority. "This pup will never know the name of a coward. It will not bear the blood of a pack that threw it into the snow to die."

Valerius leaned his forehead against mine. The contact sent a jolt of electricity straight to my soul.

"This child will be born in the North," the Devil whispered, his thumb gently stroking my stomach. "It will be raised as a Lycan. It will be my heir. And when the time comes..."

A dark, terrifying smirk curled onto his lips, a promise of absolute c*****e.

"...I will let my child watch as I rip Kaelen’s head from his shoulders."