The Lycan King's Lucky Mistake

"Listen here, woman. Give me an heir, and I'll give you more gold than you can spend in ten lifetimes. Fail me, and I'll snap your neck myself."

The Lycan King had me pinned against the wall, blood-red eyes dead serious. I was trying very hard not to notice that his chest was about to burst through his shirt.

Here's the thing: I'm not supposed to be here. My half-blind, gambling-addicted father checked "Fertile" instead of "Fortunate" on the royal conscription form. An honest mistake — if you ignore the part where it shipped his virgin daughter straight to the most dangerous man on the continent.

I tried to explain. He didn't listen. He made me drink something black and foul called a "fertility elixir."

But what nobody in this godforsaken palace knows is that while I can't breed, I am stupidly, ridiculously, almost cosmically lucky.

Assassin slipped poison into my soup? The venom snake fell into the boiling pot first. They tried to burn me at the stake? Lightning struck the High Priest into a charcoal briquette before anyone could light a match.

And when I accidentally kicked a loose coin in the courtyard and uncovered the largest magic crystal vein in the empire — well.

Let's just say the king who once threatened to kill me is now on his knees, clutching my skirt like his life depends on it.

"Forget the heir, Elara. I just want you."

Funny how that works.

Elara's POV

The doors slammed open. Dust rained from the ceiling.

Two guards the size of wardrobes grabbed me by the arms, hauled me across the throne room, and dropped me face-first onto the floor.

"Ow! Oh my God, my knees—"

"This is her?"

I froze.

The voice came from the far end of the hall. Deep. Bored.

I looked up.

The Lycan King sat on a throne of black stone, legs spread, collar open, looking at me like I was a stray cat someone had dragged in from the rain. Dark gold eyes. Vertical pupils. Not a shred of warmth.

"She's scrawny," he said — to the guards, not to me, like I wasn't even worth talking to. "Can she even handle a pure-blood Alpha's bond?"

My brain short-circuited.

Handle? A bond?

What is this — a BREEDING PROGRAM?!

"Your Majesty!" I scrambled to my feet, wiping blood off my knee. "There's been a huge mistake—"

"Bring her to the chamber."

"Wait — I said there's been a mistake—"

The guards grabbed me again.

The bedchamber was enormous and freezing. I sat on the edge of a bed that could fit my entire village, hugging myself, heart hammering.

The door opened.

Kael walked in. No jacket. Just him, bare-chested, looking like God had sculpted him out of rage and good cheekbones.

Under different circumstances? Sure. Fine. I have eyes.

Under these circumstances? That was a six-foot-four death machine, and I was the assignment.

"Take it off," he said.

"OKAY — STOP." I jumped off the bed, both hands up. "Before anything happens, you need to hear what I'm about to say."

He stopped. One eyebrow up. Waiting.

"My father," I said, talking fast, "is half-blind, fully stupid, and has gambled away every coin he's ever touched. He filled out your conscription form. He was supposed to check Fortunate — as in lucky. Instead he checked Fertile — as in good for making babies." I pointed at myself. "I am NOT that. I've never kissed a man. I've never held hands with a man. I don't even know how babies work, like, mechanically. You've got the wrong girl."

Long, horrible silence.

Kael looked at me like I was doing a really bad card trick.

"Fortunate," he repeated.

"Yes! Lucky! That's my thing! My only thing!"

"And you think I care." He walked toward me. "Your father sold you for five thousand gold. The contract is signed. Blood-sealed. I don't care if he filled it out drunk and blindfolded."

He stopped right in front of me. Close enough that I could feel the heat rolling off him. Close enough that every nerve in my body was screaming run.

"The empire's magic is dying," he said. "My shifts are out of control. The elders nag me about the bloodline every damn day. I need an heir." His hand came up and tilted my chin. "Give me one, and you'll be queen."

"And if I can't?"

His thumb traced my jaw. Slow. Light.

"Ghost wolves," he said. "Haven't been fed today."

My eyes burned. Don't cry. Do NOT cry in front of this man.

"You're insane," I whispered.

He let go. Turned. Came back with a goblet full of green, bubbling liquid that smelled like a sewer had a baby with a dumpster fire.

I gagged.

"What the hell is that?"

"Fertility elixir. High Priest brewed it himself. Seven days."

"It smells like something died in it."

"Something did. Drink it anyway."

"Was that a JOKE?!"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

He did not look like he was joking.

He grabbed my chin, tilted my head back, and brought the goblet to my lips. I clamped my mouth shut, shaking my head.

"You can drink it yourself," he said, "or I pour it down your throat. Pick."

A knock.

We both stopped.

A maid shuffled in, head down, silver tray, teacup. Her hands were trembling, eyes darting around the room like a cornered animal.

"The calming tea. For Miss Thorne."

"Put it down. Get out." Kael didn't look at her.

She set the tray on the bedside table and practically ran.

I glanced at the tea. Something dark was swirling under the surface, slow and deliberate, moving the wrong direction.

That is not chamomile.

"Now." Kael turned back, goblet raised. "Open."

"I swear to God—"

"Elara."

My nose itched.

No. Not NOW—

I pressed my finger under my nose. Held my breath. Squeezed my eyes shut.

Nope.

"ACHOO—"

My arm flew out. My hand cracked against his wrist. The goblet went airborne — green liquid arcing in slow motion — and landed with a splash directly in the teacup.

The two liquids touched.

Hiss. Crack. BANG.

The teacup dissolved. Just — gone. The silver tray crumpled like paper. The obsidian bedside table — solid stone, probably older than the dynasty — melted. A smoking hole opened up in it, edges still sizzling and hissing, black fumes curling toward the ceiling.

We both stared.

If I'd drunk that tea—

If Kael hadn't been forcing the elixir on me—

If I hadn't sneezed at that exact second—

I would be dead. Dissolved from the inside out. On these very expensive sheets.

Kael's face changed.

Not angry. Not confused. Something worse — something cold. His gold eyes went flat, pupils shrinking to razor-thin slits. He turned toward the door and the sound that came out of him wasn't a voice anymore. It was a wolf's howl, raw and massive, shaking the candle flames off their wicks.

"LOCK DOWN THE CASTLE! FIND THAT MAID! BRING HER TO ME — ALIVE!"

The palace erupted. Boots hammering stone. Shouts bouncing off walls. Doors crashing open down every corridor.

I scooted back against the headboard, pulled my knees up, and wrapped my arms around them.

Then I looked at the smoking hole where the bedside table used to be.

Then at Kael, who was radiating enough murderous energy to power a small city.

I spread my hands.

"Sooo," I said. "About that heir."

He turned to look at me. His eye twitched.

"I'm thinking maybe we table that conversation?" I gave him my most helpful smile. "Just for tonight? Since someone in your palace just tried to melt my organs?"

He looked at the smoking hole. Then at me.

"No way," he sneered, and walked out.

NO WAY?!

My legs gave out. I slid down the side of the bed and hit the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.

The smoking hole was still sizzling next to me. At least it was having a reaction.

Holy shit. I'm so dead.