The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 154

Sage

In the spirit of living in the present, I push all future concerns aside, willing away my worries and focusing on the joy radiating through our bond. Alaric’s excitement is infectious and I won’t disappoint him by borrowing trouble from tomorrow.

"We should tell Helena and Iris," I suggest as we walk toward our private quarters. "Before they guess on their own."

Alaric nods, though I sense his reluctance to share our news with anyone, even family. His beast has already categorized our child as something to be fiercely guarded, information about its existence included in that protection.

As we move through the packhouse corridors, I notice how his body subtly positions itself between me and others we pass. His hand, once casually resting at the small of my back, now presses with slight but constant pressure, guiding me away from anything he perceives as potential danger - from servants carrying trays to warriors engaged in routine patrols.

"You realize you're doing it, don't you?" I ask quietly, amusement coloring my tone.

His brow furrows slightly. "Doing what?"

"Treating me like I might shatter at any moment." I gesture to the significant space he's creating between me and a completely harmless potted plant. "I'm pregnant, not made of glass."

Through our bond, his mild embarrassment mingles with unapologetic protectiveness. "It's instinct," he admits, making no attempt to adjust his behavior. "My beast seems to think everything is suddenly a threat."

"Even the furniture?" I tease gently.

His reluctant smile breaks through the serious expression he's worn since the healer's confirmation. "Especially the furniture. That table has a suspicious edge."

The moment of lightness feels precious, a brief acknowledgment that joy can exist alongside the weight of responsibility we both feel. Through our bond, I sense his effort to temper his protective instincts with the understanding that I need space to continue functioning as queen, not just as a vessel for his heir.

That evening, over a private dinner in the royal family's quarters, we share our news with Helena and Iris. Their joy manifests differently – Helena's dignified tears, Iris's exuberant embrace that nearly knocks me from my chair.

"The first royal birth in a generation," Helena says, her composure returning though her eyes remain suspiciously bright. "And such a unique heritage."

Through our bond, I feel Alaric noting the same thing I do – the careful wording that acknowledges our child's mixed bloodline without directly referencing my healing abilities. Old habits die slowly, even among those who fully support us.

"Have you considered the Ancient Prophecy?" Iris asks suddenly, her excitement evident in rushed words. "About the child of royal blood and healing power?"

Silence falls as three pairs of eyes turn toward her with varying degrees of surprise. Through our bond, Alaric's confusion matches mine.

"What prophecy?" I ask finally.

Iris looks between us, suddenly uncertain. "I thought... surely you know of it? It's mentioned in the oldest texts about the healing packs."

Helena's expression shifts subtly. "Those texts were largely destroyed during the purges. Or restricted to council elders."

"I found references in the ancient archives," Iris admits. "When I was researching healing abilities after Sage joined us. It spoke of a child born of royal line and healing blood who would bridge divided worlds and bring balanced power."

Through our bond, the fierce protectiveness of his declaration carries absolute certainty. But beneath it flows something more vulnerable – the fear that even a Lycan King's power might not be enough against enemies who would target an unborn child for representing something beyond their control.

"Two weeks," I suggest as a compromise. "We wait two weeks, then make the announcement."

His reluctant agreement flows through our bond. "Two weeks. But security increases immediately. No arguments."

As I settle against him in our bed, his hand rests protectively over my still-flat abdomen, his touch reverent despite its possessiveness. Through our bond, wonder continues to flow alongside concern – joy in what we've created tempered by awareness of what it might mean.

"They'll try to twist this into something political," I murmur against his chest. "Use our child as a symbol for whatever cause they support or oppose."

"Let them try." His voice rumbles through me, absolute certainty replacing earlier concern. "Our child will be exactly what we raise it to be. Not what prophecies or politics demand."

Through our bond, his determination burns like banked fire – steady, unflinching commitment to protecting what we've created together. Whatever comes next – council politics, ancient prophecies, or threats from enemies still lurking in shadows – we face it as we've faced everything else.

Together. As king and queen. As mates. As parents to the future neither of us imagined possible before we found each other.

As my eyes drift closed, the last sensation I register is Alaric's protective presence surrounding me completely – his body curled around mine, his power filling our chambers, his love flowing through a bond that grows stronger with each passing day.

Within me, too small yet for even my evolved senses to detect directly, our child grows – heir to a kingdom, fulfillment of a bond, and according to Iris, perhaps something more significant than either of us yet understands.