The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 156

"Alaric," I begin once we're alone in our chambers, the door secured behind us. "We need to think clearly about—"

"Later," he growls, setting me on my feet only to back me against the nearest wall. His body cages mine, not threatening but protective, creating a barrier between me and invisible dangers. "Need you now."

Through our bond, I understand this isn't just desire, but something more primal – instinctive need to reaffirm our connection in the face of discovered threats. My own body responds instantly, pregnancy already making me more sensitive to his touch, his scent, his proximity.

His kiss holds nothing of gentleness, raw possession that I return with equal fervor. Through our bond, emotion flows too complex for words – fierce protection, primal claiming, and beneath it all, fear that even a Lycan King's power might not be enough against fate and prophecy.

"Mine," he growls against my neck, hands already making short work of the barriers between us. "My mate. My queen. Mother of my heir."

"Yours," I affirm, fingers tangling in his hair as his mouth finds sensitive spots that send electricity through my veins. "Always yours."

There's no patience in his touch, no careful consideration that usually marks our encounters. This is his lycan claiming his mate, reinforcing his scent, his mark, his possession against any who might threaten what's his.

When he finally takes me, it's with intensity that borders on desperation. Through our bond, his emotions flow unchecked – fierce love tangled with protective fury, joy in our creation warring with terror of potential loss. My body responds to his primal claiming with equal need, pregnancy hormones heightening every sensation.

"No prophecy," he growls against my ear, each powerful movement emphasizing his words. "No ancient fear. Nothing determines our child's fate but us."

Through our bond, his determination burns like wildfire – not just protection but defiance against anything that would threaten what we've created. My own resolve matches his, my body arching to take him deeper, my powers flaring in response to his dominance.

Release crashes through us simultaneously, amplified by our bond until distinction between us blurs entirely. For precious moments, we exist as a single entity – united in protection of what we've created, in defiance of forces that would oppose us.

"We neither confirm nor deny." His thumb traces patterns across my abdomen, touch reverent despite the tension still evident in his jaw. "Our child is the royal heir to the Lycan throne. Their destiny belongs to no prophecy, no ancient fear."

Through our bond, his certainty flows strong and clear – we will write our own fate, determine our own future. Whatever forces gather against us face not just Lycan King and healing queen, but united mates protecting what's theirs.

As night falls, we remain wrapped in each other, his body curled protectively around mine, his hand never straying far from where our child grows. Through our bond, plans form and reform – security measures, political strategies, contingencies for every threat we can imagine.

Two weeks remain before our public announcement. Two weeks to prepare, to secure, to anticipate opposition both open and hidden.

Two weeks before the world learns that prophecy feared for generations now approaches fulfillment in the form of innocent life growing within the Lycan Queen.