The Lycan King's Exiled True Mate

Thor

loor. A sharp pain shot through them, but I bit back the whimper. Around me, the othe

feel him. His presence was a physical weight in the vast throne hall, a crushing pressure that made t

asts, each one a testament to the power of his bloodline. My father had been an Alpha; I had grown up in a packhouse, seen power up close. But this

were trying to be alluring, to catch the King's eye, to survive by pleasing him. I was the odd one out. My dress was a simple, worn tunic, my hair was a t

n, a sharp, metallic scent cutting through the cloying sweetness of the girls' perfumes

named Lyra, lifted her head. She gave a small, practiced

as like the crack

time to scream before they were dragging her across the marble floor, her polished slippers making a useless scratching sound. Her shriek echoed off the

uld hear the girl next to me begin to tremble, her soft sobs muffled against her knee

s eyes f

ht it might break them. This is it, I thought. He's going to kill me. But as that wave of terror threatened to drown me, anothe

had once ruled. My spine straightened. I lifted my chin, my gaze meeting his acr

I saw his nostrils flare slightly. He was scenting the air, and for the first time, his cold, piercing

ed with the raw, untainted scent of my fear. And as he breathed it in, I saw a flicker of something in his expression. The a

ng. The movement was subtle, but it drew every eye in the room. I

sive hand at the guards

r feet, their relief so palpable it was almost a sound. I felt a surge of it myself, a dizzying,

s voice, as cold and sharp a

r. She

ith a mixture of jealousy, pity, and morbid curiosity. A guard pulled me back, separa

ibutes and leaving me alone in the echoing silence with the tyrant on his thron

scended the steps from his throne, each footfall a heavy thud that seemed to shake the very

k up at him. His shadow engulfed me. The sheer force of his Alpha

chin, tilting my face up to his. I was forced to meet his gaze. His silver eyes were like chips of

bones, but it was a sound of possessiveness, not aggression. He w

w, the hard line of his mouth. He took a slow, deep breath, inhaling my scent as if trying t

f any emotion when he finally spoke. He turned and walked toward a smaller, ornate door to the sid

ght, you will serve