The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 152

Alaric

Days blur together as her heat continues – moments of primal claiming followed by brief periods of clarity. During these interludes, I care for her with attention that would surprise those who know only the Lycan King, not the mate. I bring water, food, cool cloths for her overheated skin – anything to ease what her body endures.

The ancient chambers seem to respond to her condition, the air cycling cooler during her fever peaks, the lighting adjusting without command to soothe her sensitive eyes. These rooms have witnessed countless royal heat cycles through generations, designed with ancient magic that recognizes and responds to a queen's needs.

Between her heat waves, I find myself unable to move far from her side, Phantom refusing to relax his vigilance. Each small sound from beyond our door heightens my alertness, my senses hyper-focused on potential threats despite the chambers' impenetrable protections. The instinct to guard my vulnerable mate overrides all rational thought during these moments.

I watch her sleeping during one brief respite, her silver-blonde hair spread across my chest, her body finally cooling after hours of burning heat. The mark on her neck has fully settled now, a silvery crescent that perfectly matches her pendant – as if the moon herself has claimed her as much as I have. My fingers trace it with reverence, satisfaction rumbling through my chest when she instinctively responds to my touch even in sleep.

This is what my father tried to explain once, in a rare moment of vulnerability I barely understood at the time. How a true mate transforms an Alpha's understanding of power itself – from dominance over others to protection of what matters most. How territory and status become merely means to secure what truly holds value.

"How long?" she asks during one moment of clarity, her body temporarily sated though I can scent the next wave building beneath her skin.

"Typically three days." My fingers trace the now-permanent mark on her neck, satisfaction flowing through me at this visible sign of our bond. "Though first heats can sometimes last longer."

Through our bond, we both sense what grows increasingly certain with each passing hour, each joining of our bodies. Ancient magic combined with biological imperative works toward its purpose with relentless determination.

I find myself imagining our child during quieter moments – would they have her violet eyes, her compassion, her innate understanding of healing? Or my strength, my strategic mind? Perhaps some perfect combination of both. Through our bond, I sense similar thoughts drifting through her consciousness between waves – wondering, hoping, imagining possibilities.

The responsibility of potential fatherhood settles over me with unexpected weight. My own father's relationship with me was complicated at best – training often indistinguishable from torment, lessons carved into flesh and spirit with equal brutality. The dynasty he prepared me to lead always prioritized over any personal happiness.

I silently vow our child will know different lessons – strength tempered with compassion, duty balanced with joy, tradition honored but never at the expense of love. Through our bond, Sage's unconscious agreement flows like gentle current, her dreams aligning with my waking thoughts.

On the fourth morning, I wake to find her temperature normalized, her scent subtly altered in a way only a mate would notice. I watch her sleeping beside me, my beast unusually settled despite the evidence of our primal encounters marking her skin.

My hand drifts to her abdomen of its own accord, wonder filling me at what might already be growing there. Too early for certainty, yet somehow I know. Through our bond, something new resonates – faint, barely perceptible, yet undeniably present.

Her eyes open, finding mine as her own hand drifts to cover the same spot. "I feel it too," I tell her, awe making my voice rough. "Something different. Something new."

"Instinct," she finishes, understanding flowing between us. "The Alpha protecting what's his."

"What's precious to me," I correct gently. "Not possession, Sage. Value beyond measure."

Her eyes soften at the distinction. Through our bond, love flows between us with intensity that still surprises me – how completely this one wolf has transformed my world, my understanding of what matters.

The kingdom waits beyond our door, with all its politics and challenges. Cassius remains unfound, a threat I've not forgotten despite days focused solely on my mate's needs. Councils must be managed, alliances strengthened, laws reformed.

But within her, if ancient magic has fulfilled its purpose, grows something that transcends all those concerns – heir to my throne, yes, but more importantly, living embodiment of our bond. A miracle created from two wolves who found each other against all odds, all traditions, all expectations.

Whatever challenges await, one thing remains absolutely certain – nothing in this world or beyond will threaten what we've created together. Not while I draw breath. Not while I reign as Lycan King.

Not while she remains, now and forever, my mate, my queen, my heart.