Chapter 5: The Wolves Who Kneel
1531 Words
Lyria’s POV
The forest changed the moment the wolves arrived.
It wasn’t just the sound—the c***k of branches, the soft thud of paws on damp earth, the synchronized rhythm of disciplined bodies moving as one. It was the energy. A shift in the air, sharp and heavy, like a storm gathering its strength. Lyria felt it sweep across her skin before she even saw them.
Kael stepped in front of her again, body tense, shoulders squared, stance widening subtly as if preparing for a threat rather than welcoming allies. His fingers loosened from around her wrist, but his presence stayed close enough that the warmth of him brushed against the cold air between them.
Three wolves emerged first—massive, sleek, their coats shades of silver and black that caught the moonlight like metal. They circled the clearing, assessing every tree, every shadow, every inch of ground where blood or danger could hide. Then, as if sensing Kael’s silent command, they shifted in unison.
Bones cracked. Fur dissolved. Muscle reformed.
And three men knelt on one knee before their king.
Their heads bowed low, chests rising with controlled breaths. Lyria expected snarls, suspicion, or at least the pointed stares she’d received all her life. But for the first few seconds, they didn’t even acknowledge her. All their attention belonged to Kael.
“Your Majesty,” the closest one said, voice deep and steady, though worry threaded through it. “We felt the curse flare. It was violent—we came immediately.”
Kael didn’t speak. His silence held authority sharper than any command.
The wolves lifted their heads carefully, eyes flicking over Kael’s posture, the fading red glow beneath his skin, the tautness in his stance. And then—almost simultaneously—their gazes shifted to Lyria.
Three pairs of eyes widened.
Not with recognition. With alarm.
The middle wolf inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring as he caught her scent. “Hybrid,” he whispered before he could stop himself.
The word sliced through the clearing.
Kael’s growl shattered the silence. “Watch your tongue.”
The wolf dropped his gaze instantly, cheeks flushing with embarrassment or fear—Lyria couldn’t tell which.
Another wolf, broader and older, spoke cautiously. “Your Majesty… her presence—does it have something to do with the curse?”
Kael stepped half a pace closer to Lyria. “Yes.”
The wolves stiffened as if struck. The elder one swallowed audibly. “Your Majesty, that is… unprecedented.”
Lyria felt their stares like needles pricking her skin. Hybrids weren’t welcome in wolf society. They were feared, hated, or killed. To them, she wasn’t a woman. She was a threat wrapped in flesh.
She took a small step backward, not even realizing she did it.
Pain tore through her chest—sudden, sharp, blinding.
She gasped.
Kael spun toward her instantly, hand shooting out to steady her. But the curse surged too, reacting violently to the distance between them. His scars flared bright red, light pulsing in frantic waves beneath his skin.
“Lyria—don’t move,” he growled, voice strained.
She stumbled back into him, breath trembling. The pain eased instantly—as if an invisible rope had slackened rather than snapped her in half.
Kael’s chest rose with a ragged inhalation. “Stay close.”
“I didn’t—I wasn’t trying—” she whispered.
“I know.” His voice softened barely. “But distance between us is dangerous.”
The wolves watched the entire exchange in stunned silence. One of them—young, sharp-eyed, with a scar slicing across his cheek—finally spoke.
“Your Majesty,” he said, voice low, “is she… bound to you?”
“No,” Kael snapped. But doubt flickered in his eyes for half a second too long.
The wolves noticed.
The eldest wolf cleared his throat. “Forgive my question, my king, but the curse reacting to another person’s proximity—this is something we’ve never witnessed. Does this… connection… have a name?”
Kael’s jaw tightened. “If it does, we don’t know it yet.”
Lyria felt her pulse thud uncomfortably. She didn’t want a name for this. She didn’t want any kind of connection. All she wanted was distance, safety, anonymity—things her life had never allowed, but she still hoped for.
Instead, she’d found herself bound to a cursed king whose wolves were looking at her like she was either the savior of their world or the detonator of it.
She forced a swallow. “Are they always so… intense?”
Kael almost smiled. Almost. “They’re warriors. They sense threat before anything else.”
“And I’m a threat,” she murmured.
“No,” Kael said immediately. “Not to me.”
But to them—that was a different story.
The eldest wolf rose slowly, eyes still downcast. “Your Majesty, if you’ll allow us—should we escort you back to the palace? The roads at night are dangerous, especially with the curse unstable.”
Kael didn’t answer for a long moment.
When he did, his tone was cool and precise. “You will escort us, but you will keep distance. Lyria stays beside me.”
Lyria blinked. “What? Why—”
“Because the curse is still on edge,” Kael said. “And if anything touches you, or approaches you, or even looks at you the wrong way—it reacts.”
His gaze flicked to the wolves. “And I’m not going to test its limits tonight.”
The three wolves bowed deeply. “Understood, my king.”
Kael motioned for them to move forward. They shifted once again—bodies dissolving into fur, bones reshaping, speed returning in a burst of raw energy. They took formation ahead of Kael and Lyria, clearing a path through the forest.
Kael turned to her. “We walk.”
She hesitated only a second before following. Her legs felt stiff, heavy, as if fear had weighed down every muscle. Kael’s presence beside her was a strange comfort—but only because being near him kept the curse from tearing both of them apart.
As they walked, she kept her gaze forward, trying to process everything.
Kael broke the silence first. “You handled yourself well.”
She snorted softly. “Did I? Because it felt like I almost passed out.”
“Not from fear,” Kael said. “From the pull.”
The pull.
She hated that word. Hated the way it shaped itself inside her chest. “I don’t understand why it reacts like this.”
“Neither do I,” Kael admitted. “That’s what makes it dangerous.”
She looked up at him. “You’re not angry?”
“Angry?” Kael raised a brow. “If anything, I’m calm for the first time in years.”
That silenced her.
He continued. “The curse has clawed at my sanity for most of my life. Tonight, it eased.” He paused, voice dropping. “Because of you. I’d be a fool to be angry at the first peace I’ve felt in a decade.”
His words shouldn’t have affected her. But something in his voice—quiet, honest—slipped beneath her guard and lodged in a place she didn’t want to acknowledge.
They walked for several minutes before she spoke again.
“What will your wolves think of me?” she asked quietly.
Kael’s voice was firm. “They will think what I tell them to think.”
“That doesn’t feel fair.”
His gaze slid to her. “They don’t need fairness. They need order.”
“And what about me?” she whispered. “What do I need?”
Kael didn’t answer immediately.
Finally, he said, “You need answers. And safety. And I intend to give you both.”
She bit down on her next words, unsure of how to respond.
Ahead of them, the wolves slowed, signaling a change in terrain. The forest thinned, revealing a faint glow on the horizon.
Kael gestured with his chin. “There. My kingdom.”
Lyria’s breath hitched.
A distant silhouette rose against the dark sky—towers, battlements, walls carved into the landscape like stone teeth. Even from far away, the kingdom pulsed with power, ancient and unyielding.
“You live there?” she whispered.
Kael’s lips curved faintly. “I rule there.”
Fear and awe twisted together in her chest.
“What happens when we arrive?” she asked.
Kael didn’t hesitate.
“We start finding answers,” he said quietly. “About your magic. About the curse. About why fate decided to tie us together.”
His tone deepened. “And why it’s getting stronger.”
The forest fell silent around them.
And Lyria knew—
Stepping into his kingdom meant stepping into a world where her existence wasn’t just illegal.
It was dangerous. Controversial. Explosive.
But she had no choice.
The pull was tightening. The curse was stirring. Fate was calling.
And the King of Wolves was walking beside her— whether she wanted him to or not.
- Writer
