Chapter 4: The Death Words

Kael's POV

When I told Garrik I suspected that something or someone was in the foliage, Garrik didn't waste time aiming his bow, his muscles taut, ready to release the arrow into whatever—or whoever—was lurking there.

“Just leave it to me your majesty,“ he said to me.

I couldn't have chosen a better head enforcer. Apart from being my best warrior who trains the other warriors in the pack, he's also skillful with the bow and arrows. And most times, that's the advantage he has over my playful beta who can put up with him to some extent when he doesn't use his bow and arrow.

Just as Garrik was about releasing the arrow, a voice suddenly cut through the moment like a razor, making us pause.

“Alpha!”

Talk of the devil. There was my Beta, Hood, striding towards us as I turned.

He was wearing that ever-present smirk of his. As my personal assistant, Hood had an uncanny ability to show up at the most inconvenient moments.

"It’s time to start preparing for the Blood Moon Festival," he reminded me.

I exhaled through my nose. Right. The festival. The grand event where I was supposed to find my Luna. The elders wouldn’t shut up about it. They knew how apathetic I've been towards having a mate but they keep disturbing me that as an alpha and King, I need a Luna.

But in truth, I have no use for weakness. No use for softness of mate bonds and love. I see love as one of those things that could make an alpha weak and vulnerable and I give no room for such weakness.

That's how I had been able to maintain a record of being undefeatable over the years and I wanted it to remain like that.

For years, I never showed up at the annual blood moon festival, but I decided to grace the festival this time. Only my true intention was to spite the council of elders again by letting them know that none of the women displayed is fit to be my Luna—since they know how to pressure me.

With a final glance at the bush, I signaled Garrick to lower his bow. The sound had been suspicious, but for now, I let it go. I came here to enjoy the tranquil and beauty of nature, to breathe for once, to be away from them, and yet, as expected, they had come sniffing after me like the overprotective hounds they were.

Unless I expressly demand otherwise, they like to choke me with their company whenever they are free, all in the name of loyalty and duty, but most times, they both end up in a banter I actually find entertaining.

We began walking back, Hood on one side, Garrick on the other—just like always.

"You two never leave me be," I muttered.

Garrick chuckled. "It’s called loyalty, my king."

I rolled my eyes. "It’s called suffocation."

They both laughed, as if my suffering was amusing.

"I knew you bastards would come find me, at any small leisure time you have." I added dryly.

Hood and Garrick outright cackled at that, and I kept my expression as impassive as ever.

"God, you should see your face," Hood wheezed. "Like a father scolding his overbearing children."

"I should execute my overbearing children," I countered.

More laughter erupted from them while I maintained my expressionless face.

I sighed. "You two need women in your lives." I loved how that got their attention.

"If you had a woman to entertain you, you wouldn’t be hovering around me like flies. You’d be too busy doing... other things," I drawled.

That set them off again. Hood nearly doubled over, while Garrick snorted.

"I actually am seeing someone," Hood admitted. "I’ll let you both know when it gets serious."

Then, turning to Garrick with a wicked grin, he added, "But this guy—this poor, lonely bastard—has nothing."

Garrick scowled, crossing his arms. "I will find my mate when the time is right."

Hood smirked. "With that permanent scowl on your face and your robotic gait? Good luck."

Their back-and-forth was amusing enough, but then Hood made a grave mistake.

"As lonely as our king might be," he teased, "at least he’s getting his Luna tonight."

The conversation died this time.

Hood, lost in his own amusement, didn’t notice the sudden silence. But Garrick did when he glanced at me and saw my dead stare. He immediately tensed.

Hood kept laughing. While Garrick subtly stepped away.

Then Hood felt it. That creeping awareness that he had stepped into dangerous territory. Slowly, his laughter faded. He turned, and the second he met my black expression, his face drained of color.

"Lonely?" I repeated, my voice low and menacing.

Hood swallowed. "Uh… well… you know… not lonely lonely—just—"

I twitched one side of my mustache, my eyes narrowing further.

Hood instantly dropped to his knees.

"My king," he said quickly, hands raised in surrender. "It’s not like that—I didn’t mean to—"

I lifted a hand, silencing him. "Garrick."

"Yes, my king?" Garrick responded immediately and I gave him a look. A simple, subtle gesture.

Understanding flashed across Garrick’s face. And then he smirked.

Hood’s eyes widened. "No. No, no, no—"

But it was too late for him to redeem himself.

Hood bolted immediately he saw Garrik reach for his bow. "Traitors!" he yelped, sprinting ahead.

Garrick, bow in hand, took off after him. "Keep running, you coward! You were talking so much just now!"

"You’re supposed to protect me, not murder me!" Hood shouted, dodging trees.

"You did not only make jest of me, Hood. You did that to the king too," Garrick called back mockingly. "Your punishment is death."

As the two idiots disappeared into the distance, their voices fading into the wind,

A chuckle escaped my lips. Soft, deep, and foreign to my own ears.

It was then I realized I hadn’t laughed in so long.

*****

The moment I stepped into the festival grounds, the entire gathering rose to their feet. A wave of reverence rippled through the crowd, and for a brief second, silence reigned like I had expected.

Apparently, everyone was super excited to have their king grace the occasion.

Hood and Garrick flanked me as I strode regally toward my seat, my steps measured, exuding the authority I wielded. They took their positions nearby, ever-vigilant, though I hardly needed their protection.

A servant was already kneeling by my feet, diligently polishing my shoes. Impressive. The elders understood my expectations well. The ground here was thick with dust, kicked up by the wild acrobatic displays of dancers and warriors alike. The last thing I tolerated was filth on my body, especially on my shoes.

As I settled into my seat, a group of dancers writhed before me, bodies moving in hypnotic rhythms.

Initially, their performance seemed part of the planned entertainment. But the instant they noticed me seated, everything changed.

Their movements turned frantic, a chaotic blend of sensual desperation and shameless competition.

Some jiggled their hips and massive behinds with calculated precision. Others leaned forward, deliberately flaunting their cleavages as though the mere sight of it would enchant me. I even spotted one girl—who was not as endowed as the rest—twisting her waist so violently it looked as though she had a spare one somewhere in case she broke it.

Their energy was misplaced.

If they only knew how little interest I had in this unnecessary display, they would save themselves the effort.

I simply observed, detached, untouched by their desperate antics.

Suddenly, a scent invaded my nose.

And it wasn't just any scent. It was something otherworldly. Something so rare, so undeniable that my entire body stilled.

The scent belonged to my mate. My true mate.

My entire demeanor shifted, my eyes narrowing with intense scrutiny as I scanned the writhing bodies before me.

Who was it?

Which one of these females—?

But no matter how sharply I searched, none of them stood out. None of them carried the scent that had ignited my instincts.

It was only then that I noticed another agitation.

A shift in the steady rhythm of my shoe being polished.

The hand that had been moving so methodically against my boot was trembling now against it.

A creeping realization crawled up my spine, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand.

No, it can't be what I'm thinking.

I slowly looked down.

And when my eyes met the face of the lowly servant kneeling at my feet, my entire world tilted.

Her hands, pale and delicate, shook violently over my boot. Her breathing was uneven, her small frame nearly caving under some invisible weight.

She was struggling—not just with fear, but with something deeper. Something primal. She must have sensed my scent too.

I couldn't fathom that the servant was the source of the scent.

How would a nobody like her even be my mate?

My expression darkened as my gaze bore into hers.

"Who are you?" I demanded, my voice low but laced with an authority that made the very air vibrate.

Her lips parted, trembling as she whispered, "Lyria. Lyria Voss."

I snapped.

"I don’t give a fuck what your name is!" My voice thundered across the festival grounds, instantly silencing the revelry.

The music died at once and the dancing ceased.

Every single eye turned toward us, watching. Listening.

"Where are you from?" I growled.

Before she could answer, one of the elders stepped forward, his voice cautious but firm.

"She is an omega, my king," he explained. "A daughter of traitors. She was sold and passed through many packs before we acquired her to serve in the elder's quarters."

The weight of his words pressed into me, but all I could hear was one thing.

Omega.

Not even the treason. Not her past. Not the chains of servitude wrapped around her existence. But the single, unchangeable fact that she was an omega.

I was sure the Moon Goddess was mocking me right now.

Me—Kael, the Alpha King, unmatched in power, revered by all—destined to be tied to a weak, insignificant creature like her?

My stomach churned with fury.

I wasn’t even ready for a mate. Let alone a nobody.

But then, a thought slithered through my mind, dark and dangerous.

There was a way out of this.

In our world, mates who were deemed unworthy were cast out—hunted, destroyed.

And I know that should an omega ever get rejected by a powerful alpha, most wolves never survived it. To say nothing of an overall Alpha king. She would definitely die if I rejected her.

She wouldn’t survive it, but perhaps I would care in my next world.

In this world, I refused to be shackled to a weakling.

I inhaled sharply, jaw tightening, and without a shred of hesitation, I let the words fall from my lips. "I, Kael Raventhorn, Alpha of the Ironclaw Pack and the King of all werewolves, reject you as my mate.”