The Lycan's Choice

Jessamine's P.O.V.

A stray drop of blood trickled down the side of my neck. The warm, thick liquid snapped me out of my stunned stupor, breaking the paralyzing spell the Lycan King had cast over me. I forced my gaze away from the hellfire swirling in his red irises and blinked furiously. My eyes fixed on the horrific sight spilling across the frosted grass. Alpha Garrett lay in a mangled heap. His throat was torn wide open, a jagged, ruined mess of shredded tissue and white bone. His mate collapsed over his chest, her agonizing wails slicing through the heavy silence of the clearing.

Max was technically the Alpha now. I shifted my gaze toward him. He stood frozen beside Sloane, staring blankly at the butchered bodies of his parents. Not long ago, my first instinct would have been to run to his side, to offer comfort, to make sure he was secure. Instead, a hollow numbness settled in my chest. Standing there with his chosen Luna clinging to his arm, Max was dead to me. It was no longer my place to worry about his fate. He made his choice, and the violent consequences were unfolding right in front of us.

King Kaelen Vander gave a sharp flick of his bloody claws. The casual, dismissive gesture unleashed chaos. His massive warriors surged forward, descending upon the kneeling women of the Onyx Moon pack. Screams of terror erupted as the monstrous men began to claim their chosen mates. Shifters were hauled to their feet. Some women scrambled backward in the mud, only to be snatched up by their hair or their waists. The Lycans did not care about tears or pleas. They were searching for specific scents, evaluating the trembling females to find adequate breeders.

I hung suspended in the air. The King continued to hold me up by the thick canvas strap of my backpack with effortless strength. My boots dangled a foot above the blood-soaked earth. The raw power radiating from Kaelen was suffocating. I could feel the heat of his massive body pressing into the frosty morning air. He turned his attention back to me. His glowing red eyes scanned my face with ruthless precision. He took in my busted, split lip. His gaze dropped to the brutal, dark bruising blooming across my fractured arm.

I knew exactly what I was. I was a weak human. My body possessed no shifting abilities, no rapid healing, no supernatural strength. In the brutal hierarchy of the Lycan world, humans were at the bottom. Bringing me into his pack meant I was destined to be degraded to the lowest omega rank. I would scrub floors, wash dishes, and endure severe beatings to remind me of my place. Or, far worse, I would be thrown into a dark room and used merely to produce male heirs. I had heard the terrifying rumors about human breeders. They were stripped of their names, treated as livestock, and discarded the moment they gave birth to a strong Lycan son.

"It is very convenient you already packed your things."

Beatrix, the female Lycan witch, stepped up beside the King. Her eerie, white-eyed gaze swept over my dangling form with undisguised contempt. She did not flinch at the sight of the smoking heart Kaelen had just ripped from Kendra's chest. She did not care about the wailing pack around us.

"Best we get on our way then. This pathetic pack has little else to offer us." Beatrix sneered, turning her back on the carnage.

I stared directly into Kaelen's massive, fur-covered chest. The sheer volume of muscle packed beneath his dark fur was terrifying. He was a creature built for slaughter. A brief, desperate spark of survival flared in my chest.

"You can still change your mind. I am nothing of value." I whispered the words, my voice trembling over the sound of screaming women.

His response was immediate. A deafening, chest-rattling growl erupted from the depths of his massive torso. The sound vibrated straight through my bones. He was irritated. Whether he hated me questioning his authority or he regretted picking a damaged human, I could not tell.

Kaelen shifted his grip. Before I could process the movement, he slung me over his broad shoulder like a sack of grain. His thick arm clamped down tight around the back of my legs, pinning me to his massive chest. The breath rushed out of my lungs in a sharp gasp.

He took off into the wilderness at a terrifying, bone-jarring run.

The force of his first leap nearly snapped my neck. My head bounced against his hard, muscular back. I squeezed my eyes shut, clutching the strap of my backpack to keep from sliding off. The wind roared loudly in my ears, biting into my cheeks with icy cruelty. We tore through the dense forest, shattering branches and crushing bushes under his massive, pounding strides. Every heavy step sent a shockwave up my spine, jarring my teeth together. The cold air grew thinner the higher in elevation we climbed, slicing through my thin cotton shirt like icy blades.

I forced my eyes open and peeked over his shoulder.

Three dozen monstrous Lycans trailed behind us, keeping pace with their King. They ran in their terrifying half-shifted state, standing on two legs while utilizing the raw speed of a beast. The ground shook beneath the collective weight of their footfalls. They moved across the mountains like a dark, unstoppable tidal wave. Many of them carried weeping women slung over their shoulders, mirroring my miserable posture.

But one pair caught my attention, cutting through the horror of the scene.

A few rows back, a Lycan ran with a bright, possessive gleam in his eyes. He did not have his prize tossed over his shoulder like a piece of meat. He carried Cleo, a young woman from my pack. He cradled her lovingly against his broad chest. His arms formed a protective shield around her delicate frame. Cleo clung to his neck, her face buried into his shoulder, trembling but secure. Every few seconds, the Lycan named Bronson would duck his head, nuzzling his snout against her hair with profound affection.

They were fated mates.

Even amidst the slaughter and the kidnapping, the bond between them was undeniable. It was a fierce, protective connection designated by the Goddess herself. Watching them, a hollow ache spread through my ribs. That kind of devotion was something a human captive chosen by force would never experience. I was not Kaelen's fated mate. I was a broken thing he had claimed on a whim. The only affection I would receive would be a cold, calculated breeding session in some dark dungeon.

I let my head drop limp against Kaelen's back.

The landscape blurred into a chaotic smear of green pine and gray rock. Distances that would take a human days on foot disappeared in sheer minutes. The breakneck speed made my stomach churn with violent motion sickness. All the blood rushed straight to my head, leaving my face burning hot. The awkward angle put immense pressure on my fractured arm, sending blinding spikes of pain shooting up to my shoulder. I bit down hard on my lower lip, tasting rust and salt. I refused to cry out. I refused to groan. Making any sound of discomfort would only broadcast my human frailty to the beast carrying me.

Hours bled away in a haze of freezing wind and punishing leaps. My body went numb from the relentless bouncing.

Loud, echoing howls finally announced our arrival. The sound started from the front lines and rippled back through the running pack, bouncing off the dense canopy overhead.

I felt Kaelen's arm tighten reflexively around my thighs. He slowed his monstrous pace, transitioning into a heavy, ground-eating walk. I placed my good hand on his lower back and pushed myself up a few inches, desperate to see my new prison.

The breath hitched in my throat.

We were approaching a breathtaking, vine-draped citadel carved directly from ancient, dark stone. Massive pillars stretched toward the sky, interwoven with vibrant green moss and blooming exotic flora. The architecture was a stunning blend of primitive strength and grand design. Glass windows caught the glint of the mid-afternoon sun, reflecting a warm, golden light across the cobblestone streets. It was not the grim, blood-stained fortress I had pictured. It looked magical, buzzing with vibrant life.

The wide streets were packed with people. I braced myself to see hundreds of terrifying beasts roaming the alleys and crowding the marketplace.

Instead, the subjects lining the streets were in human form.

They wore bright clothing, laughing and drinking as they packed against the stone barriers holding them back from the main thoroughfare. The moment Kaelen stepped onto the cobblestone, the city erupted in deafening cheers. The sound bounced off the stone walls, shaking the vines overhead. They were celebrating King Kaelen Vander's return. They threw flowers and cheered the names of the warriors marching behind us. It felt like a heroic military parade, an endless tide of adoration for a ruler who was worshipped by his people, even as he was feared by the rest of the world.

Kaelen puffed his massive chest out beneath me. His stride lengthened, radiating pride and dominance.

I felt terribly exposed. I was hanging upside down, battered, bruised, and filthy from the mud of Onyx Moon. The citizens pointed at the women being carried into the city, murmuring excitedly about the new breeders and claimed mates meant to strengthen their bloodlines.

My gaze snagged on a little girl standing near the front of the crowd. She wore a bright yellow dress, holding her mother's hand. When she saw me, her face lit up with a bright, innocent smile. She pointed a tiny finger up at me, bouncing on her toes.

A hot wave of humiliation burned my cheeks. I squeezed my eyes shut and buried my burning face in the tangled curtain of my hair. I adjusted my canvas bag to cover the side of my head. I could not bear to be looked at. I did not want these people to see me hauled in like a sack of flour, a pathetic spoil of war destined to be locked away in a dark dungeon forever.

The King did not stop to greet his adoring subjects. He marched straight up the massive front steps of the central fortress. The stone stairs were steep, and the air grew significantly colder as we crossed the threshold into the interior of the castle. The heavy shadows of the grand hall swallowed the afternoon sunlight.

I tensed my muscles, waiting for him to carry me down into the bowels of the earth. I waited for the heavy iron doors of a dungeon.

Kaelen finally came to a halt. His arm loosened around my legs. He gripped my waist with his massive hands and set me down onto the polished marble floor.

My boots hit the ground, and my knees instantly buckled. The blood drained out of my head too fast, leaving my vision swimming with dark spots. The world spun violently around me. I let out a shaky exhale, swaying on my feet as I tried to ground myself in the cold, cavernous hall.

Before the dizziness could even begin to clear, a massive hand wrapped around my uninjured bicep. Kaelen did not give me a second to breathe.

He dragged me forward. His strides were far too long for my trembling legs to match. I stumbled over my own boots, practically jogging to keep from being pulled off my feet. He hauled me up a grand, sweeping staircase. The steps were lined with plush dark red carpet and intricate iron railings, but I could barely focus on the lavish surroundings. Terror seized my throat. He was marching with severe purpose.

We reached the top of the stairs and strode down a wide, well-lit corridor. At the very end stood a set of colossal double doors, etched with magnificent, intricate gold patterns that shimmered under the wall sconces.

Kaelen did not reach for the handles. He lifted his heavy boot and kicked the doors open with a thundering crash. The wood slammed against the interior walls, making me flinch hard.

He marched inside, dragging me into a royal suite that defied logic. It was enormous. The ceilings disappeared into towering shadows, and the walls were trimmed heavily in gleaming gold. Rich mahogany furniture filled the sitting area to my right, while a massive archway led to a bedroom on my left. Yet, despite the unbelievable expanse of the suite, the sheer, monstrous size of the Lycan King made the room feel suffocating and small.

I stood frozen on the thick rug. My eyes darted around the luxurious sitting room, checking the corners, peering through the archway into the bedroom.

The entire place was empty.

Confusion slipped past my lips before I could properly bite it back.

"Where are the other women?" I whispered the words to myself, stepping further into the space. I had assumed, based on all the horrific rumors whispered in my old pack, that a King with his reputation would possess a sprawling harem. I expected to be tossed into a crowded quarters with his other concubines, left to figure out the pecking order among dozens of hostage breeders.

Through the archway, my eyes landed on the colossal bed. The mattress was massive, draped in heavy black and gold silks. It looked like an altar.

A wave of pure, paralyzing dread seized me, stealing the breath from my lungs. My pulse hammered wildly against my ribs. I looked at the sheer size of the pillows, the dark sheets, the isolated nature of this royal suite. A horrifying realization snapped into my brain. There were no other women to hide behind. I was alone with him.

Did this monster intend to mate with me right now? While in his beastly, fur-covered form? The thought of his sheer size, of his blood-stained claws tearing at my clothes, made my stomach drop into a bottomless pit. I trembled violently, clutching the strap of my bag tighter to my chest as a shield. I backed up a step, my wide eyes fixed on his massive, terrifying frame.

Kaelen caught the scent of my escalating terror. He turned to look at me, and his glowing red eyes flared with a sudden, sharp annoyance.

He reached up, dragging his heavy, blood-crusted hand over his face. He pinched the bridge of his snout, groaning in profound irritation. The deep sound rumbled through the floorboards.

"This is our room." Kaelen snapped the words at me, the command leaving no room for argument or clarification.

I stood paralyzed, my jaw parting slightly as the weight of his words crashed over me. Our room. The King of the Lycans was not throwing me in a dungeon. He was locking me in his own private quarters.

Before I could form a single word of response, Kaelen turned on his heel. He marched out of the suite, his heavy boots thudding against the carpet. He grabbed the handles of the massive double doors and slammed them shut behind him. The heavy click of the lock echoed like a gunshot in the silent room.

The silence that followed was deafening.

My legs finally gave out. I collapsed against the edge of the mattress, sliding down the plush dark silk until I hit the floor. I pulled my knees into my chest, a trembling, broken heap in the middle of a luxurious cage. He was gone for now. But staring at the empty, colossal bed, I remained utterly terrified of what he would do the moment he returned.