The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 153

Sage

"Are you ready?" Alaric asks, his hand resting on the chamber door we haven't opened in nearly a week. Through our bond, his reluctance to return to the outside world mirrors my own.

"As I'll ever be," I reply, smoothing the front of my dress one final time. Nothing about my appearance betrays what might be growing inside me, yet I feel fundamentally changed in ways that surely must be visible to everyone we encounter.

The moment the door opens, reality rushes back – guards snapping to attention, servants averting their eyes with knowing deference, the weight of kingdom responsibilities descending upon us once more. Through our bond, I feel Alaric's beast remain unusually close to the surface, hypervigilant despite the apparent calm of the packhouse corridors.

We make our way toward the great hall for morning council, eyes following our progress with barely concealed curiosity. The wolves who witnessed my heat's dramatic beginning now watch with new awareness, particularly the unmated males who scramble to maintain extra distance as we pass.

"Don't mind them," Alaric murmurs, his arm protectively around my waist. "It will pass. The scent markers from a heat cycle fade within days."

But it's not just the biological aftermath causing the attention. Something has changed in how the pack perceives me – respect mingled with new caution, deference tinged with awareness of power they hadn't fully acknowledged before. Through our bond, I sense Alaric noting these subtle shifts with satisfaction.

"My King, My Queen." Garrett appears, bowing formally before falling into step beside us. "The council eagerly awaits your return."

His eyes hold knowing warmth when they meet mine, though professional decorum prevents any direct reference to what has transpired. Through our bond, I feel Alaric's pride – not embarrassment or discomfort at what the kingdom has witnessed, but satisfaction in our formal union being so visibly acknowledged.

The council members rise as we enter the great hall, their expressions ranging from genuine respect to careful neutrality. Lord Harrison steps forward first, bowing deeply.

"The council welcomes your return, Your Majesties." His formal greeting contains subtle emphasis on my new title. "The kingdom has continued peacefully in your absence."

As we take our places at the head of the table – me in the queen's seat that has stood empty since Helena stepped aside – I notice the changed dynamics immediately. Council members who once dismissed my presence now watch my every movement with careful attention. Those who supported us from the beginning radiate quiet satisfaction.

The meeting proceeds with routine matters – border reports, trade agreements, ongoing reconstruction from the mutant wolf attacks. Through our bond, I feel Alaric's attention split between council business and heightened awareness of my every shift, every sigh, every subtle change in posture.

"And the search for Cassius?" Alaric asks finally, his voice hardening at the name.

"No trace, my King." Garrett's frustration matches Alaric's. "We've extended search parties into neutral territories with permission from neighboring Alphas, but he seems to have vanished completely."

Through our bond, Alaric's protective instinct flares at this continuing threat. His hand finds mine beneath the table, fingers interlacing with subtle pressure that communicates everything words cannot – Cassius remains a shadow over our future, a danger neither of us can forget.

When the council session concludes, Helena approaches with Iris beside her, both women studying me with knowing eyes.

"You should see the royal healer," Helena suggests quietly. "To confirm what I suspect you already know."

Through our bond, I feel Alaric's reluctant agreement warring with his desire to announce our news immediately – to proclaim to the entire kingdom what we've created together. His beast particularly chafes at hiding something so fundamentally important to our status, our future.

"And in the meantime?" I ask, already anticipating the answer.

"In the meantime," the healer's eyes twinkle with centuries of accumulated wisdom, "prepare for significant changes. To your body, Your Majesty. And to your protective instincts, my King."

Her knowing glance at Alaric suggests she's witnessed generations of Alpha males becoming increasingly territorial during their mates' pregnancies. Through our bond, I feel Alaric's silent acknowledgment that his already heightened protectiveness has only begun to manifest.

“And what about, uh… intimate relations?” I don’t think I’ve ever seen Alaric blush so hard before. The way he clears his throat and stiffens his shoulders, trying to hide his embarrassment, is adorable. “Is it, um, safe?”

“Yes, of course, Sire.” The healer struggles to maintain her professional mein while I stifle a giggle behind my hand. “As long as your queen is feeling up to it, nothing you do during intercourse will cause any harm. Though if I might remind you my king, you’ve both just been through a rigorous heat. Might I suggest at least one night of rest for you both?”

“Uh, yes, of course.” Alaric rubs the back of his neck as he heads for the door. Sharing one last knowing look with the healer, I follow him out.

As we leave the healer's chambers, the reality of our new situation settles more firmly between us. Through our bond, plans and possibilities flow – nursery arrangements, security considerations, potential names floating like fragments between our connected minds.

If only we could stay in this happy bubble, live there for the rest of our days, just the two of us and our little family. But if I’ve learned nothing else by now, it’s that sooner or later, that bubble will burst. And when it does, the stakes will be even higher.