All Chapters of Claimed By The Lycan King: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The customary moment of deference ended, and heads began to lift. My own remained bowed, my body locked in place as I fought for control. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, each beat sending that intoxicating scent deeper into my awareness.Mate.My wolf stirred within me, pushing forward with desperate joy, with hunger, with recognition so profound it threatened to overwhelm my human consciousness. I pushed back, forcing her down with the discipline of years. Not here. Not now.When I finally managed to lift my gaze, my eyes moved of their own accord, drawn across the room as if pulled by invisible threads. They found him instantly, as though every other person had faded to shadow.The King was scanning the crowd, his amber eyes intense with purpose. His nostrils flared slightly, and I knew with bone-deep certainty that he was tracking the same scent that had upended my world moments before. His gaze swept the room once, twice, and then locked with mine across the

There was a moment of stunned silence, broken only by the distant sounds of the city below and the continued music from the ballroom behind us."Who hurt her?" Theo's question was directed at Elijah, his tone shifting from the gentle one he'd used with me to something harder, more authoritative. "Who was her first mate?"Elijah's jaw tightened, his protective instincts visibly warring with his respect for royal authority. "Alpha Benjamin Thorne from Silver Crescent Pack," he answered finally. "It was messy, my King," Elijah continued, his voice carefully controlled. "I brought her back home after the split, and she took over as my gamma."What my brother didn't say—what he couldn't possibly convey in those simple words—was how he'd found me that night, curled into myself in a corner of Benjamin's territory lodge, blood from my split lip staining the collar of my shirt. How he'd defied pack law by entering another Alpha's territory uninvited, how he'd carried me out when my legs wouldn

I watched her fingers wrap around the stem of her wine glass, each movement delicate yet purposeful, like everything else about her. My mate. The thought still sent lightning through my veins, a current of disbelief and wonder that had been coursing through me since that moment when our eyes first locked. The Moon Goddess had finally answered prayers I'd almost stopped uttering. Two hundred years of waiting, and now she stood before me—Emeline Maxwell, with her watchful green eyes and guarded smile. My destined Queen. If only I could convince her to accept what fate had written for us.She took a measured sip of her wine, her gaze sweeping across the ballroom as if cataloging exits and potential threats. Even in this moment of supposed relaxation, she remained the vigilant gamma. Something twisted in my chest—pride mixed with sorrow. Pride at her strength, sorrow at the circumstances that had forged it."Your security detail is remarkably unobtrusive," she observed, bringing her atten

The champagne in my glass had gone flat, forgotten in the wake of our conversation. Emma's earlier tension had gradually eased as we spoke, though wariness still lingered in the corners of her eyes, in the careful distance she maintained between us. Even now, as she leaned against the bar, her posture suggested readiness—to flee or fight, I couldn't be certain. The protective instinct that had surged within me when Bennett spoke to her disrespectfully still smoldered beneath my composed exterior."Emma," I said, my voice pitched low for her ears alone, "about what you mentioned regarding Blue Mountain Pack..."Her eyes flicked to mine, instantly alert. "Yes?""Were there other packs affected by that earthquake who didn't receive the promised aid? Other situations I should know about?"She hesitated, her gaze sweeping the ballroom as if assessing who might overhear. The marble bar between us gleamed under chandeliers that spilled golden light across her features, casting shadows that e

I watched Emma's fingers trace the rim of her wine glass, each movement deliberate yet graceful. The simple gesture captivated me with an intensity that would have been alarming had I not recognized its source—the mate bond, still new and raw between us, amplifying every small detail of her existence in my awareness. Two centuries of waiting, and now she stood before me, this werewolf woman with careful eyes and guarded smiles, simultaneously the answer to my oldest prayers and my most complex diplomatic challenge.The weight of my crown—both literal and figurative—pressed against my temples as I considered the implications. A werewolf mate for the Lycan King. The traditionalists would be outraged, the progressives cautiously optimistic, and the general populace divided along the ancient fault lines of inter-species prejudice. Yet as I watched the subtle shift of her expression when she spoke of those displaced cubs, something beyond politics stirred within me—a primal need to provide