SCENT OF THE FORSAKEN KING

The night I turned down the Alpha King, the moon bled.

And I don't mean that figuratively. The actual moona huge, swollen, bloodred orbloomed over a gathering of ten thousand wolves there to witness my fate: to bond with the King or face death. In this world, they were essentially the same.

Kael Vane faced me from across the sacred circle, his bare chest exposed to the biting cold, silver runes inked across his shoulders. His amber eyes locked onto mine, filled with a ravenous desire.

I was expected to walk over to him, kneel, and offer my throat, submitting to the bond.

Instead, I declared, "I refuse."

A gasp rippled through the crowd. Kael remained motionless, but I sensed ita crack in his calm façade, his shock palpable in the air like a fresh storm.

"Lyra," he said, and the way he spoke my name felt like both a warning and an intimate caress. "The bond has begun. You can feel it."

And I did. Deep in my bones. Aurora, my wolf, was pacing anxiously. But I remembered the smoke, the screams, and the sight of my mother's blood steaming in the snow.

"Your father ordered the Thornwood massacre," I replied. "I will not bind my wolf to the son of a murderer."

I had a dagger in my possession, stolen from the high priestess. I sliced my palm open, letting my blood drip onto the ancient stones as I recited the words of rejection.

The pain hit me like a cosmic force, a feeling akin to being flayed by starlight. I screamed, and I could hear Kael's roar of anguish breaking through the air like thunder.

When I woke up three days later, the look on the doctor's face told me everything I needed to know. "Your wolf is fading, Luna. Without the true mate bond... you have six months to live."

On the fifth day, the King's soldiers arrivednot to kill me, but to take me away.

Kael's proposition was simple: I would spend six months as his captive while he sought a cure. Six months in close quarters with his wolf, delaying the inevitable decline. Six months of submission.

I didn't have a choice but to agree.

Little did I know, the King had no intention of saving me without first breaking me down.

Three weeks earlier

The summons arrived on black parchment. I was busy stitching up a warrior's wound when Caius found me. "The King wants you."

Alpha Kings didn't ask for the minor healers of the Thornwood pack. We were too small to matteror so I believed.

They brought me in a carriage, closed off and dark, with no windows and twelve guards to escort me.

Blackfang Citadel loomed over a churning lake, its obsidian towers clawing at the bruised sky. The air smelled of sulfur and ancient magic.

He waited on the steps.

Kael Vane was even more imposing than the stories described. He had black hair cropped for battle, a face shaped by violence, and even from twenty feet away, I could see the color of his eyesamber, like a wolf's.

He wore no crown; he didn't need one.

"Your Majesty," I said, curtsying, not out of desire but because Auroramy wolfstirred to life, pressing against my ribcage, as if she longed to break free and run towards him.

Mate, she whispered.

No. That was impossible. I was just a healer from nowhere, and he was the King of All Territories.

But when I glanced up, Kael's gaze was filled with a ferocious hunger and something alarmingly close to relief.

"Come inside," he commanded. "Now."

He didn't speak until we were alone.

I had expected a grand throne room, but instead found myself in a cozy library. A fire crackled, and windows overlooked the turbulent lake, tinted by a bloodred sunset.

"Do you know why you're here?" he asked.

"No."

"Kael. When it's just us, call me Kael."

He stepped closer, and Aurora became frantic, scratching and howling inside me. His scent enveloped mea mix of pine smoke, cold stone, and a dark sweetness that was intoxicating.

"Three nights ago," he said, "I woke with your name on my lips. I didn't know you, but I knew you were meant to be mine."

"I'm not bound," I whispered. "I've never"

"I can tell," he interrupted, his hand reaching out, hovering dangerously close to my cheek. "Your innocence. Your... potential."

I flinched, and he halted, his hand trembling.

A King, trembling.

"You're afraid of me," he noted.

"I fear what you representpower I can't comprehend, a bond I didn't choose."

"I'll ensure your pack is provided for, better than now. I've already sent supplies, medicine, and guards."

"You think you can buy me?"

"I've captured your interest," he replied, turning to glance out the window. "The bonding ceremony happens in three days. My advisors wanted a political match, but I turned that down."

"Because of the dream."

"Because the Moon revealed your face to me, and I knew that anything less would leave me hollow."

Romantic, yes. Brutal, too. But my mind raced with memories of my mother and the Thornwood massacre, of the destruction dressed in black armor.

"Your father ordered my pack's destruction," I said flatly.

Kael froze.

"I was just five when it happened," I continued. "I still remember the smell of smoke. Your soldiers wore your colors."

"They were harboring rogues. They were warned three times."

"But there were children in those homes."

"There are always children." His expression hardened, a mask of control. "I won't apologize for my father's choices. I am continuing his workmore carefully, more thoroughly."

"And if I refuse?"

"You can't." It was simple and unequivocal. "The bond has begun. You can feel ityour heartbeat is racing. We are swept along in this current. The only choice is whether we navigate the waters together or drown apart."

He crossed the room and caught my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

"I'll give you everything," he promised, softly yet menacingly. "Power. Safety. Unimaginable pleasure. I'll burn down the world before I let anything happen to you. But I won't let you go."

His thumb brushed against my lip, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Three days," he reminded me. "Prepare yourself."

As he turned to leave, he paused.

"What if I don't want to be Luna?" I called out. "What if I don't want you?"

Silence hung in the air, then he answered: "Desire doesn't matter. We are fated; that is the only truth that holds weight."

With that, he closed the door, and I heard the lock click into place.

I wasn't a guest; I was a prisoner.

Aurora howled in triumph.

I pressed my hands against my ribs, knowing I had three days to find a way out or three days to come to terms with the fact that my life was now tied to a man whose father had slaughtered my family.

The Moon certainly had a cruel sense of humor.

They placed me in a tower roomnot quite a dungeon, but more like a cage with a beautiful view.

It was a round space at the top of the eastern spire, with windows on three sides. The bed smelled of lavender and him, his scent lingering in every corner of the stone, inescapable.

I couldn't sleep. Aurora, my wolf, wouldn't settle down; she paced around inside me, reaching out towards him.

There was an undeniable urge to complete our bonda craving that no amount of food could satisfy. I pressed my hand against the glass, frustration directed at the Moon above.

By dawn, I was trembling.

At noon, the doctor arrived. I recognized him by his leather satchel and the earthy scent of herbs.

"Luna Lyra," he said, introducing himself as Dr. Varian. "His Majesty has requested an examination."

"I'm not his Luna yet," I replied.

"True." He set his bag down. "But you are his fated."

I let him examine mepulse, eyes, heart. When he placed the stethoscope on my chest, his expression turned serious.

"Take a deep breath."

I complied, and his frown deepened.

"Your wolf," he said, "she's restless."

"She wants to bond. I'm holding back."

"I see." He took the stethoscope away. "But have you experienced any physical symptoms? Numbness? Tingling?"

"Yes, my fingers go numb sometimes."

"And what about your wolf? Can you feel her presence clearly?"

"She's loud and more vivid than ever."

Dr. Varian's concern intensified. "I need to conduct a test."

He pulled out a vial. "This will induce a partial shift. Just a quick glimpse."

I hesitated, "Is it dangerous?"

"Not usually."

I extended my arm, and the injection stung.

For a moment, nothing. ThenAurora screamed within me as I felt her rise, the transformation starting

Then it hit a wall. One moment she was there, and the next, she was fading.

"No." I reached out for her. Aurora. Come back.

She whimpered and withdrew.

"Enough," Dr. Varian said firmly, holding my wrist. "The effects are wearing off."

But Aurora didn't calm down. She dimmed like a fire deprived of air.

When I opened my eyes again, the room felt too bright, my mouth tasted of copper.

"What's happening?" I asked.

Dr. Varian put down his pen. "Have you heard of the Withering?"

I shook my head.

"It's rare. When a fated bond is rejected, the wolf doesn't comprehend it. It knows only the completion or death." He paused. "Without the true mate bond, the wolf will wither away, taking the body with it. Usually within six months."

"I'm dying."

"Your wolf is dying. And if she dies, so will you." His tone softened. "But there's a way to fix this. Complete the mating ritual, and the Withering reverses instantly."

"So my choices are to die or marry the man whose father killed my family."

"Or," a voice said from the doorway, "you can choose a third option."

I turned to see Kael standing there, dressed in formal black, silver runes gleaming at his throat. He must have overheard everything.

"Your Majesty," Dr. Varian said, acknowledging him.

"I heard. Leave us."

The doctor gathered his things. At the door, he said, "Luna Lyra, the Withering can cause intense pain in the final stages. If you don't complete the bond, I can help manage it, but I can't stop it."

And then we were alone.

Kael approached the window. "You premeditated this. You knew the repercussions of my refusal."

"I was aware of the risks. I didn't expect you to reject it so completely. Most wolves submit within hours; the pull is overwhelming."

"I have strong selfdiscipline."

"You have strong animosity." He glanced back at me. "For me. For my bloodline. I realized why you looked at me as if I were a ghost."

"The Thornwood massacre."

"Right. My father's decision. I was in the academy, just seventeen. I didn't learn about it until three weeks later."

"You did nothing."

"I was powerless." His jaw clenched. "But I'm not seventeen anymore, and I'm not my father."

"You continue his legacy. You wear his crown."

"I wear my crown." He moved closer. "And I've spent ten years carefully undoing the damage he caused, without igniting civil war. Do you think it's easy? Being seen as the monster, so they don't recognize the man trying to change things?"

Now, he was close enough to touch.

"I will give you everything," he said, soft but intense. "Power. Safety. Pleasure. I would incinerate the world before I let anyone harm you. But I won't let you go."

His thumb brushed against my lip, sending a shiver down my spine.

"What if I don't want you?"

"Wanting isn't the issue." He drew back slightly. "But I won't force you into the bond. That route leads to an empty mating, a broken Luna, madness. The bond must be chosen freely."

He stepped back. "You have six months. You'll stay here in the Citadel, under my protection and in my presence. In return, I will search for another way to save your wolf."

"There isn't another way."

"Dr. Varian thinks there might beancient magic, forbidden methods." His gaze locked with mine. "Six months of searching. And if nothing works, at the end of the period, you'll have a choice. Complete the bond and live, or refuse and accept your fate."

"You want me to be your prisoner."

"I want you to be my guest." He touched my face gently. "But yes, you won't be able to leave. The bond needs closeness to groweven in its incomplete state, it can help slow the Withering."

"And if I agree?"

"I'll expect you at formal events and your cooperation with Dr. Varian." A hint of a smile appeared. "And I expect you to sleep in my chambers."

I recoiled. "Absolutely not"

"Not with me," he intervened, catching my wrist gently. "There's an adjoining chamber. A room next to mine with a locked door. You'd have your own space, but the proximity is crucial, Lyra. Your wolf is fading, and she needs mine."

I looked at himreally lookedat the weariness in his eyes, at the urge he held back.

He was a king making a deal with the devil, a man desperate to save someone who held contempt for him.

He was my fated mate, and my wolf was dying.

"Six months," I whispered.

"Six months," he replied firmly. "Starting tonight."

I hadn't seen him in three days.

He was just on the other side of the wallso close, yet maddeningly absent. He never came in or asked to see me. I could hear him moving around in the mornings, at dusk, and during those restless hours when sleep evaded me.

He was waiting for me to make the first move.

I didn't.

Instead, I lost myself in exploration. The library became my refuge, filled with towering shelves of books on lupine history, mating practices, and ancient magic. I searched for any mention of the Withering or a possible cure.

But I found nothing.

On the fourth day, I decided to visit the healing gardens. They were perched on the southern cliff, with glass and iron stretching over the bubbling lake. Tropical plants mingled with tall northern evergreens, and the air was heavy with humidity.

As I examined a moonflower, I sensed his presence.

Not just saw himfelt him. It was an unbreakable thread connecting us, invisible yet palpable. When he stepped into the gardens from fifty meters away, I knew exactly where he was and how rapidly his heart was beating.

"You found my favorite place," he remarked.

"It's open to the public," I replied.

"Nothing in the Citadel is truly public." He drew closer, and I could feel my heart tighten with each step he took. "I let the staff inanyone in need of... peace."

I glanced at him. He was dressed casually in loose trousers and a simple tunicno armor. He seemed younger but more worn, shadows darkening under his eyes.

"You look tired," I said.

"So do you." He paused just a few feet away. "I can tell through our bond. Your restlessness is palpable."

"I'm trying to find a way out of this," I confessed.

"I know." He didn't sound angryjust resigned. "Have you discovered anything?"

"No."

"Then maybe you'll consider my help." He took out a small leather journal. "It belonged to my greatgrandmother. She was the last person recorded to have experienced the Withering, and she survived it."

I stared at the book, intrigued. "How did she manage that?"

"That's the mystery." He extended it toward me. "She never completed her bond. Her fated mate died in war before the ritual, yet she lived for forty more years."

I accepted the journal, and our fingers brushed together, sending a spark of heat through me. The bond stirred, craving connection.

Kael's jaw tightened as he stepped back.

"Read it," he urged. "Tell me what you find."

Then he left, leaving me holding a possible lifeline.

The journal was written in an ancient lupine script that was tricky to navigate. Thankfully, my training in old texts came in handyunderstanding the past was vital for healing.

Her name was Seraphine. She was engaged to an Alpha from the western mountains. When he passed away, she began to feel the Withering creeping in. Yet instead of submitting to fate, she did something remarkable.

She bound her wolf to the land itself.

Not to a person, but to the territorythe mountains, rivers, and rocks. She became a living anchor, drawing strength from the earth rather than a mate.

The ritual required a sacrifice. She never shifted again; her wolf became dormant. She never took another lover, never experienced touch. She lived alone as a hermit priestess, powerful yet solitary.

Forty years devoid of intimacy but brimming with strength.

I read the journal twice, then sat in my antechamber, staring at the wall that separated me from Kael. I finally understood what he was offering.

Not just a way to be cured. A choice.

I could bind myself to the land and survive without the mating bond, but I'd have to let go of Auroraher voice, her essence. I'd sacrifice touch, passion, and the chance of ever truly being known.

Or I could complete the bond with Kael. Live fully, love if I could find the strength to forgive. But I'd lose my independence for goodbecause fated bonds meant merging into one.

Neither option felt like true freedom.

That night, I found him in the library.

He was absorbed in a book, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He didn't look up when I walked in, but I could feel his attention shift toward me.

"You read it," he said.

"I did," I replied, stopping a few paces away. "You already knew what it contained."

"I suspected. Family histories can be vague. But I was hoping... maybe there was another option."

"You want me to choose the bond."

"I want you to live." He stood up. "I don't care how you do it. If you decide to bind yourself to the land, I'll help you. I'll find the ritual and protect your solitude for as long as I can." He stepped closer. "But I need you to grasp the weight of what you'd be giving up."

"I understand."

"No," he replied, gently touching my face. "You get it in your mind, but not in your heart." His hand moved to his chest, then to mine, over my heart. "The bond isn't a chain. It's a harmonytwo notes creating a melody. Alone, we're just singular tones. Together, we create something beautiful."

"Nice words from a man who wants to claim me."

"Yes." The honesty took me by surprise. "I do want to possess you. Own you, mark you, claim you." His hand pressed against my chest, an urgency in his touch. "But I also want you to want it. To see a future with me, not a prison."

"How can I?" I whispered. "Every time I look at you, I'm reminded of the soldiers who destroyed my village."

He lowered his hand and stepped back, hurt evident in his eyes.

"Then see me," he urged quietly. "Not my father. Not his soldiers. Just me. The man who spent three days researching how to bind territory, hoping you might prefer that to his touch."

He crossed the room, and before I knew it, his hand was on my cheekwarm, tender, trembling.

"I'll wait," he murmured, barely above a whisper. "But don't make me pretend I don't remember what you taste like."

He kissed me. It wasn't frantic or hurried; it was slow, almost tentative. His lips explored mine, as if he were trying to memorize my shape.

When he pulled away, his eyes looked dazed. "Honey and grief," he murmured, "and now, victory."

"This doesn't mean I forgive you," I said softly.

"I know." He rested his forehead against mine. "But it means you're still here. Still fighting. Still mine, even if you don't want to be."