The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 171

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Sage

The world returns in fragments of sensation – the sterile scent of medical equipment, the soft hum of monitors tracking my vital signs, and most disturbingly, the unfamiliar weight of a bond that should not exist. My hand instinctively rises to my neck, fingers brushing against the tender skin where Alaric's mark should be, finding instead the raw evidence of Cassius's violation.

"The disorientation is perfectly normal," Cassius's irritating voice, like nails on a chalkboard leaving goosebumps on my skin, reaches me through the fog of consciousness. "The transitional phase between bonds creates temporary neurological disruption."

My eyes snap open, the brightness of the medical chamber sending sharp pain through my skull. The first thing I see isn't Cassius, but Alaric – my mate, my king – standing rigidly beside my bed, his expression a careful mask that fails to hide the rage simmering beneath the surface. And despite the small voice in my head insisting something about his presence here is very wrong, my relief is instant.

"Alaric?" My voice emerges as a hoarse whisper, confusion clouding my thoughts. Why hasn't he torn Cassius apart? Why does he stand there, contained and controlled, when every instinct should drive him to eliminate the wolf who destroyed our bond?

"I'm here." His hand finds mine, the touch sending a jolt through my system – familiar yet somehow distant, like hearing a beloved voice through water. "I'm not leaving you."

"How touching." Cassius adjusts something on one of the monitors, his movements precise and economical. "Though technically inaccurate. You can't leave her, at least not for the next seventy-two hours, unless you wish to risk severe neurological damage during the critical bonding period."

The full horror of our situation crashes over me as memories resurface – the paralytic, the bond-cutting tool, the forced marking. Through the strange emptiness where our true mate bond once flowed, I search desperately for any trace of the connection that defined us. Nothing responds except the unwelcome presence of Cassius's artificial claim.

"What have you done to me?" I demand, struggling to sit up despite the weakness pervading my limbs.

"I've ensured the safety of the child," Cassius responds, as if this justifies the fundamental violation he's committed. "The forced severing of your previous bond created a neurological vacuum that required immediate replacement. The alternative would have risked significant trauma to both you and the fetus."

"You cut our bond." The words emerge with all the horror such an act deserves. "You used ancient forbidden magic to sever what the Moon Goddess herself sanctified."

"I used necessary interventions to secure a resource of unprecedented value." His clinical detachment makes the violation somehow worse – reducing our sacred connection to a mere biological function, treating our child as a commodity rather than a blessing.

A wave of nausea sweeps through me, my body rejecting the unnatural bond even as it tries to establish itself. Alaric moves immediately, supporting me as I lean over the side of the bed, his touch bringing momentary comfort despite the absence of our true connection.

"The physical rejection response is expected," Cassius notes, making an adjustment to my IV line. "This will help stabilize the physiological transition."