Lahat ng Kabanata ng Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King: Kabanata 151 - Kabanata 160

HildaThe water is blissfully warm, wrapping around me like silk as I sink deeper into the natural pool. Steam curls into the cool evening air, tendrils of mist rising around the jagged rocks that frame the hot spring.Arlo watches me from the other side of the spring, the muscles in his arms flexing as he grips the smooth stone edge. The molten hunger in his gaze makes my breath catch.He hasn’t looked away from me since we slipped into the water, as if he’s savoring the sight of me, burning it into his memory. The space between us feels charged and alive, like a tether pulling me toward him.You’re staring again,” I murmur, a slow smile curving my lips. He doesn’t deny it. Instead, he pushes off the rock and moves through the water with incredible grace, closing the distance between us in record time.My pulse quickens as he reaches me, his hands finding my waist beneath the water, the heat of his touch searing even through the steam. “How could I not?” he asks. His voice is low, ro

HildaThe knife strapped to my thigh feels like a lifeline. It’s a comforting weight, pressing against my skin as I move through the halls of the pack house. I haven’t stopped there though. I now have one at my back and each of my inner arms.It’s ridiculous. I know it is. I’m surrounded by warriors, by my mate, by the safety of our home, but I can’t shake the feeling that something, or someone, is watching me.And I don’t think it’s Damon. Undoubtedly he’s out there too, but this feels seriously malevolent. Making the hair stand up on the back of my neck all day level of evil. Damon is a piece of shit, but I can’t believe his gaze would do this to me.Arlo notices, of course. He always does. “Is there a reason you’re suddenly carrying weapons everywhere?” he asks one evening as he leans against the bedroom doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest. His tone is light, teasing, but his sharp gaze watches me closely.“Have you seen Damon?” he asks in concern. I sigh, tugging my sweat

ArloThe war room hums with tension. Warriors and Alphas from our neighboring packs fill the space, their scents a mixture of dominance, unease, and simmering aggression.Maps are spread across the long table, marked with recent rogue attacks. It’s happening more frequently now.I press my palms against the wood, levelling my gaze at the gathered leaders. "We all know why we're here. Rogue activity has increased, and we have every reason to believe Damon is behind it."A low murmur runs through the room. No one looks surprised. "We've been tracking their movements," I continue. "They're circling, probing for weak points, but they haven't made a direct move yet. That tells me one thing, Damon is hunting."The room falls silent, eyes swivelling to my lovely wife. Everyone knows who he’s hunting.Hilda sits beside me, her expression unreadable. She’s listening intently, but I can feel her impatience, the barely restrained urge to be out there fighting instead of talking. I admire her for

TaraThe voice isn’t just a whisper anymore. It’s a constant presence, slithering through my mind, wrapping around my thoughts like creeping vines. Morgana doesn’t just speak to me, she presses against me, her will curling around mine, demanding more, more, more.And the worst part is that I’m starting to feel her power calling to me.It started subtly. A tingling in my fingertips. A flicker of something curling in my chest. But then the surges started. Raw bursts of energy that left me gasping, burning from the inside out. It feels wonderful when it happens, intoxicating and limitless.But when it’s over it leaves me empty and hollowed out. Like some integral part of me has been siphoned away.You’re not losing anything, Morgana purrs in my mind. You’re becoming what you were always meant to be.I dig my nails into my palm, trying to anchor myself. No, I think fiercely. I’m part of this pack. This is my home. I’m already who I’m meant to be.She laughs, a sound like crackling embers.

PercyI don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed getting my ass handed to me quite as much as I do when it’s Nixie doing the handing.We’ve been sparring for the past twenty minutes, and while I’d love to say I’ve been holding my own, that would be a lie. A beautiful, pride-saving lie. But the truth is that Nixie fights like she has something to prove. And maybe she does.My biggest problem is that I keep getting distracted by her gorgeous eyes and the fluid movements of her incredible body. How had I never noticed before how spectacularly she fills out her tight, black uniform?Her foot sweeps toward my legs, and I barely dodge in time, stumbling back and grinning at the sharp glint in her gaze. She’s fast and unpredictable, all fluid motion and coiled strength.And I’d probably be faring better if I wasn’t so busy watching her, cataloging every flicker of emotion across her face. "You’re not focused," she snaps, circling me like a predator scenting blood."Oh, I’m focused," I assure her. "Just