The Prophesied Mate

Kaelen's P.O.V.

My upper lip curled in profound disgust as I stared down at the pathetic Onyx Moon wolf guarding the border line. The trembling shifter vibrated in sheer terror at the mere sight of my warriors and me. We stood before him in our towering, half-shifted Lycan forms. The Goddess had blessed my bloodline with the rare ability to walk on two legs while maintaining the devastating physical power of the beast. My massive claws flexed at my sides. A deep rumble vibrated in my chest as the canine before me cowardly tucked its tail. They used to be an impressive group for their kind, but somewhere down the ancestral line, the Onyx Moon pack had grown weak and complacent. Their drive to become stronger vanished into thin air, and with it went my respect. I despised having to set a single foot in such a pathetic, decaying territory. If this shivering sentry was the best they had to defend their lands, they deserved to be conquered.

Beatrix stepped casually past me. My white-haired Fae witch moved as though she were floating on a dark breeze. Her milky, pupil-less eyes gleamed with ancient, terrifying power. Black etchings crawled along her pale skin. She leaned toward the shivering sentry with a mocking grin.

"Boo." She whispered the sharp word.

The cowardly wolf bolted immediately. He scrambled backward in the dirt, kicking up dust and dry leaves. A foul stench of urine wafted through the morning air in his wake as his bladder released. He abandoned his post without a second thought, leaving the entire border defenseless. I shook my head in utter disbelief. Rolling my eyes, I led my men forward across the boundary.

Beatrix was the sole reason we were here today. She had foreseen a devastating vision of my death in an upcoming war. Her prophecies were never wrong; she watched the future unfold in a river of blood and shadow. According to her sight, a massive slaughter was approaching my kingdom, a brutal conflict that I would not survive alone. She claimed that only my fated mate possessed the power to prevent my demise. I refused to let some unknown enemy take my crown or my life, so I marched my most ruthless Lycans straight into this miserable woodland to find her. The mate who held my salvation.

As we entered the central pack grounds, Alpha Garrett came jogging toward us. His heavy boots slapped against the damp earth. He was red-faced, breathless, and soaked in cold sweat. He dipped his head in a hasty, submissive bow. His desperate panting echoed in the tense clearing. The man had received advanced notice of our royal arrival, yet he looked completely disorganized. His lack of preparation was a direct insult to my crown. The disrespect made my blood boil beneath my skin. Behind him, the center of the territory was a chaotic mess. A long line of sobbing, unmated she-wolves was forced onto their knees in the mud. Their wailing protests filled the dense air. The weak women cowered in dread as my men stepped out from the thick trees. My Lycan warriors stood tall, their golden eyes scanning the fearful crowd.

Ignoring Garrett entirely, I locked my gaze on the other shifters gathering in the space. I watched as the young heir stepped forward beside a venomous-looking female who reluctantly bowed her head. She radiated a toxic, demanding aura that I found instantly repulsive. The rest of the pack members quickly huddled behind them. A sickening stench rolled off the crowd. It was a vile mixture of cheap alcohol, stagnant sweat, and overwhelming fear. I flared my nostrils, fighting the urge to gag.

Then, it hit me. Beneath the putrid smells of the weak pack, an intoxicating, heavenly sweet scent drifted through the morning air. It cut through the filth of the Onyx Moon territory like a beacon of pure light. The scent originated directly from the young couple standing before me, clinging to their clothes and skin. My mouth instantly watered. My fangs elongated, scraping against my lower lip. My inner beast let out a thunderous, earth-shaking roar inside my mind. My mate was here.

I released a low, rumbling growl that vibrated through the very ground beneath our feet. The menacing sound instantly silenced the wailing women. The loud sobbing and begging ceased, leaving only the obnoxious sniffling of the crying females kneeling in the dirt. My warriors shifted on their feet. The towering beasts were anxious for bloodshed, eager to help their King find his queen. They would wait in strict formation until I combed through the offerings.

I began pacing down the muddy line. My heavy footfalls splashed in the cold puddles. I inhaled deeply before each cowering female, searching for the source of that divine fragrance. The women trembled, shutting their eyes tight as my massive, half-shifted form loomed over them. I took my time, processing the scent of every single wolf in the row. Only one woman dared to keep her chin lifted. She sat on her heels with a straight back, exuding a rare bit of confidence, though she possessed enough sense not to challenge my glowing eyes directly. I moved past her. I reached the end of the line, and the bitter truth struck me like a jagged blade. The intoxicating sweetness was nowhere. My mate was not among them.

I locked eyes with Beatrix. The powerful witch stood near the trees with a deeply furrowed brow. Her visible confusion matched my growing rage. She twirled a strand of white hair around her pale finger, waiting for my reaction.

"Where are the rest of the women?" I demanded.

My deep, booming voice caused the kneeling shifters to flinch and whimper in unison. I marched back toward the center of the clearing, my target fixed solely on the incompetent leader.

Alpha Garrett stumbled backward. He stammered frantically with shaking hands, holding his palms up in a desperate plea for peace. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing against his sweaty throat.

"This is all of them, Your Majesty! I swear it on the Goddess!"

His blatant lie snapped the very last thread of my fragile restraint. The beast took over. Towering to my full majestic Lycan height, I lunged forward with blinding speed. I wrapped my massive, clawed hand around his fragile throat. With a single upward thrust, I lifted his dangling body clean off the earth.

My royal warriors snarled in bloodthirsty anticipation behind me. The sound of a dozen Lycans preparing for violence sent a fresh wave of horror through the gathered Onyx Moon pack. Garrett kicked his boots wildly in the air. His face turned a mottled shade of frantic purple as his oxygen supply was abruptly cut off. He choked out a desperate, garbled plea. I tightened my grip, sinking my razor-sharp talons deep into his neck. His warm, thick blood welled over my claws, dripping steadily down my muscular forearm. I stared straight into his face, watching his pupils dilate as his eyes widened with sheer terror. I wanted him to know exactly why he was dying. He had dared to keep my queen away from me.

"Wrong answer." Beatrix sang out with gleeful malice.

Her bright voice sliced through the tension like a silver knife. Her words were accompanied by the feral, deafening howls of my men. I violently ripped Garrett's throat out with a single, brutal twist of my claws. Flesh tore, tendons snapped, and bone crunched in a sickening symphony. Blood sprayed across the damp grass, painting the dull morning in sudden, vibrant crimson. I let the mangled ruin of his neck slide from my grip. Garrett's lifeless body collapsed heavily into the dirt. A collective gasp of pure horror erupted from the surrounding assembly. His pack wept and screamed in despair as their leader fell dead at their feet.

I stood tall amidst the chaos. Holding up my blood-drenched hand, I dropped the torn flesh and vocal cords into the mud like a torn banner. I turned my golden gaze to my feral warriors, my voice booming across the trembling territory.

"Find her."

My warriors surged forward like a tidal wave of muscle and fur, ready to tear apart every house standing between them and their queen.