Celia pressed her back against the cold stone wall of the servant's quarters, clutching her trembling hands to her chest. The distant howls from the Blood Moon Gathering echoed through the night air, a cruel reminder of what she would never be part of. Omegas were never allowed near the sacred grounds. They were only meant to clean, serve, and remain invisible.
But tonight… something pulled at her.
A whisper in her blood.
A hum in her veins.
She bit her lip as the tug grew stronger. She should return to the kitchens—Alpha Garrick had warned that Omegas caught outside tonight would be punished. But her feet moved on their own, carrying her toward the edge of the forest, toward the glowing silver light that bathed the sacred clearing.
She stayed hidden behind the trees, peeking through the thick foliage. Wolves of every rank gathered under the blood-red moon, their howls shaking the earth. And at the center stood a figure unlike any she had ever seen.
He was massive.
Taller.
Broader.
Radiating power so thick it pressed on her skin like a living force.
Lucien Blackthorn. The Lycan King.
The legends hadn't done him justice.
Dressed in black leather and silver armor, his icy blue eyes scanned the gathered wolves like a predator hunting prey. His mere presence made Alphas lower their heads in submission. He was untouchable. Unreachable.
Celia swallowed hard and turned to retreat—but the moment she moved, his head snapped toward her hiding place. Their eyes locked.
She froze.
His nostrils flared. His muscles tensed as if his wolf had surfaced.
And then… the impossible happened.
He growled—a deep, earth-shaking sound—and took a single step forward, ignoring the startled gasps of the Alphas surrounding him.
"No…" Celia whispered to herself.
This wasn't happening. Not to her.
But the undeniable spark flared between them, searing into her soul. The pull intensified until it burned like wildfire under her skin. And then she felt it—a glowing heat on her wrist. She looked down, horrified, as a faint golden mark bloomed like molten light across her skin.
The Mate Mark.
Her heart plummeted.
No. No, no, no.
She couldn't be mated to him.
A low snarl ripped from Lucien's throat as he began to move toward her, parting the crowd like a shadow of death.
Celia turned and ran, crashing through the trees with tears blinding her vision.
Because being mated to the King wasn't a blessing…
It was a death sentence.