The Lycan Prince's Unwanted Mate

Marry Him

~Lyra~

The memory of that absurd yet passionate night flooded back into my mind. A locked room. A pair of hands tracing fire along my skin. Lips wandering down my arm and neck. Dresses ripped to shreds.

The Lycan Prince had been more beast than a lycan that night, tearing through everything, whispering that I belonged to him while claiming me in every possible way.

Now, as his heavy yet intoxicating scent filled my lungs once more, my world crumbled—shattered into ashes.

How had I just escaped Rylan only to fall right into the Lycan Prince’s grasp? And by the look on his face, he didn’t seem pleased to see his fated mate--me. If anything, he looked irritated. Angry.

Panic surged through me. Seizing the briefest of chances, I lunged from the trunk, ready to flee.

But I didn’t make it far.

A strong hand snatched me mid-motion. “Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was the coldest thing I’d ever heard.

The next second, I found myself hoisted over his shoulder, like a bag of potato.

“Please,” I gasped, struggling against his grip. “I don’t know anything about that night. I never intended to—”

“Quiet.”

His order was final.

He carried me effortlessly until we reached a sleek limo, where he practically threw me onto the leather seat. But he didn’t follow me in. He simply shut the door and left.

The limo was dark, the windows sealed tight. No view of the outside, no way for the outside to see in either.

With each passing second, my nerves stretched thinner, fear coiling tighter inside me. Then, suddenly, the door opened again. The Prince stepped in.

Before I could react, he reached for my foot.

“Don’t touch me—” I recoiled.

“Shh.”

Seated across from me, he lowered his gaze, turning my ankle lightly in his grasp. His voice dropped into something soft, almost a lover’s whisper. “So much blood,” he murmured. “Injured like this… It pains me to see.”

A strange heat seared through me. I tried to pull away, but his grip was unyielding.

Without another word, he reached for a medical kit beside him, took out a cotton swab, and started to wipe the blood from the wound. His movements were unnervingly gentle. Focused. His handsome face betrayed no extra emotion, as if tending to my wounds was the only thing that mattered.

Once he was done, he finally looked up. “I believe you know why I’m here,” he said, his golden eyes locking onto mine. “I only have one question—why would you appear at my bed that night?”

His words sent a fresh wave of heat to my face.

Appear at his bed. I clenched my jaw and said nothing.

Kael sighed, eyes darkening. “If you insist on staying silent.” He waved a hand.

An older woman stepped into the limo. She wore a composed smile as she inclined her head “Prince Kael.” The woman turned to me, her gaze assessing. “Nice to meet you, pretty girl. May I know your name?”

“…Lyra.”

She gave a small nod. “Lyra, I am the Lycan King’s Truth Speaker—a witch. It is my job to discern truth from lies.” She paused, then asked, “Did you deliberately climb into Prince Kael’s bed, hoping to gain his favor?”

“No!” I blurted out.

The Truth Speaker turned to Kael. “She speaks the truth.”

Then she turned back to me. “Do you know who was behind the setup?”

I swallowed hard. “I do. It was Rylan, the son of my father’s Beta. And his mother, Amelia.”

Again, she turned to Kael. “She speaks the truth.”

But then… she hesitated.

Kael narrowed his eyes. “What?”

Her lips parted. When she finally spoke, her words were barely above a whisper. “Your Highness… This girl is pregnant.”

Pregnant. The word slammed into me like a bomb.

Kael looked surprised too. After seconds of silence, he continued, “I heard,” he said slowly, “that you lost your sight after your family’s… incident?”

I nodded, choosing to play the blind card for now. As far as anyone knew, I was still that poor girl who not only lost her pack but also her sight overnight, and I intended to keep it that way.

People behaved differently when they thought you were blind. And I needed to know who they truly were when they thought I couldn’t see.

Kael’s voice turned cold. “Given your condition, you’ll be taken to a private hospital under the royal family’s name for your pregnancy.”

A private hospital under the royal family’s control?

That was just a fancier way of saying I would be locked away. Watched. Kept like a prisoner. And I still had to run away from Rylan and uncover the truth about my past. I couldn’t allowed to be locked away. “I’m not—” I started.

Kael’s sharp gaze cut through me. He said simply. “Until the child is born, you will remain under my protection.”

“I don’t trust you,” I whispered.

His lips curled slightly. “Good. I don’t trust you either.”

I clenched my hands into fists, nails digging into my palms.

Then Kael spoke again, this time with lethal calm. “If you want to leave, the other option is for me to kill you and the baby. I will not allow my child to become a threat to me one day.”

Kael extended a hand. A wolf beside him immediately placed a knife into his palm—a silver blade.

Lethal to werewolves.

Kael pressed the cold edge against the top of my foot, dragging it slowly up my calf. His eyes gleamed with something dark. Something sickening. “So tell me,” he murmured. “Will you stay? Or will you leave?”

I had heard of Prince Kael’s infamy. The eldest son of the Lycan royal family. Heir to the most powerful seat in the country. At seven, he and the former Lycan Queen had been in an accident. She died. He disappeared.

By the time the royal family found him again, he was twenty—a brutal underground boxer, a rogue, reeking of blood.

And upon his return?

He became the nightmare.

He toyed with she-wolves. Crippled one Lycan noble on a whim. Sped through the streets, crashing into cars as if it were just a game for him.

His crimes were unspeakable.

I knew Kael was ruthless. But I hadn’t realized just how psychotic he truly was.

I couldn’t die here. I am the last remaining bloodline of the Evergreen. I struggled, but his grip was unyielding. The knife inched closer, its cold edge now pressing deeper into my skin.

Then--

“Prince Kael.”

A voice cut through the tension. The blade halted.

Standing by the car door, a young wolf slipped his phone into his pocket and bowed slightly before delivering his message.

“The Lycan King called. He instructs you not to act recklessly and to marry Miss Lyra as soon as possible. The royal family’s child must be born legitimately. And,” he hesitated before adding, “He knows Miss Lyra is your fated mate.”

Kael let out a sharp laugh, his sneer laced with contempt. “Am I the crazy one, or has the old man completely lost his damn mind? Marry a she-wolf who schemed her way into my bed?” His grip on the knife tightened. “Fated or not, I don’t trust her one bit. I’ll handle this my way. Tell him to leave me the hell alone.”

Outside the car, the young wolf pressed on, undeterred. “The King himself will personally arrange the wedding. The ceremony will be conducted properly.”

Kael twirled the knife between his fingers, his smirk sharpening. “Still daring to talk, huh? Come closer and say that to my face.”

The young wolf paled but stood firm. “Prince Kael, even if you kill me today, I must deliver this message. The King also said… if you refuse, he will appoint your little brother, Liam, to oversee the upcoming battle between the Lycan Kingdom and the Rogues.”

Kael's grip on the knife tightened, his eyes flashing with irritation.

I could see the fury building in him, the way his chest rose and fell, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

He didn’t want this. He didn’t want me. And yet, the King had effectively cornered him.

Then, with a slow sigh, he leaned back against the seat, tossing the knife aside like it no longer interested him. The sharp clatter echoed in the limo’s oppressive silence. His eyes met mine, assessing, calculating.

“Fine,” he said at last, voice laced with reluctant amusement. “I’ll marry her.”

The young wolf outside released a quiet breath of relief before nodding. “I will inform the King.”

Kael continued watching me, assessing me.

A slow, insidious chill slithered through my veins, sending shivers down my spine. Every instinct screamed at me to retreat, to put as much distance between us as possible. But before I could move, his hand caught my chin in a firm, unyielding grip.

He leaned in, so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over my skin. His voice—deep, smooth, and laced with something darkly possessive—wrapped around me like silk and steel.

"Little mate," he murmured, his voice a velvet caress, deceptively soft yet thick with intent. "I suggest you regain your strength over the next few days… because after the wedding, I plan to enjoy you properly. Slowly."