The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Alaric

Dawn hasn’t broken yet, but sleep is impossible. My lycan paces restlessly, replaying yesterday’s confrontation with Sage in the rain. The way her silver–blonde hair clung to her skin. The defiance in those violet eyes. The scent

of her honeysuckle and rain and something that calls to every primitive instinct I possess.

–

“Mate,” Phantom growls. “Protect.”

But how do I protect someone who sees safety as a cage?

“You look like shit.” Garrett strides into my office without knocking, dropping a stack of reports on my desk.

I glare at him. “Your timing is impeccable, as always.” 1

“You’re going to want to hear this.” All humor leaves his face. “Blue Moon Pack was hit last night. Three omegas taken.”

The wood of my chair splinters under my grip. “Taken? Not killed?”

“No bodies found. But the survivors reported the mutant wolves seemed… selective. They ignored stronger wolves to target the omegas specifically.”

Images flash through my mind – Sage alone in the healing wing, Sage wandering the grounds, Sage vulnerable and wolfless and mine to protect-

“Call a pack meeting,” I growl. “Everyone. Now.”

An hour later, I stand before my assembled pack in the great hall. Sage slips in late, trying to blend into the shadows at the back. Even from here, I can sense her discomfort at being surrounded by so many wolves. Phantom snarls at her distress, but I force myself to focus.

“The threats to our borders are evolving,” I announce. “Our enemies are getting bolder, more strategic. Starting today, ALL pack members will participate in mandatory defense training.” My eyes find Sage. “Including omegas.‘

Whispers ripple through the crowd. A warm body presses against my arm

Eris, playing the supportive ex-

girlfriend for the pack’s benefit. I step away from her, my attention caught by the flash of hurt that crosses Sage’s face before she masks it.

“Training begins in one hour,” I continue. “Attendance is not optional.”

I spend the next hour in the training field with Garrett, setting up practice dummies and mapping out basic defensive maneuvers. When wolves begin arriving, my eyes immediately find Sage. She’s wearing borrowed training clothes that make her look even smaller, more vulnerable. Her hair is pulled back, exposing the delicate line of her neck.

My lycan nearly loses it when I spot the scars thin white lines covering her skin. Memories of finding her in Blackthorn territory, broken and bleeding, make my vision bleed red.

“Easy,” Garrett murmurs. “You can’t kill everyone who’s ever hurt her.”

Watch me,” Phantom snarls.

TI

1 pair more experienced wolves with beginners, deliberately keeping my distance from Sage. But my eyes track her every movement as she learns basic blocks and strikes. She’s hesitant at first, but there’s a natural grace to her movements that makes my mouth go dry.

Chapter 25

+25 BONUS

“The key to self–defense,” I demonstrate with one of my warriors, “is using your opponent’s strength against them. Size doesn’t matter as much as technique.”

–

Sage watches intently, her eyes following my movements. When she practices with her partner – a young beta female I specifically chose for her gentleness – I have to physically stop myself from growling every time they make contact.

“You’re hovering,” Iris appears at my side. “She’s never going to trust herself if you don’t give her room to try.”

“There’s a difference between giving her room and leaving her vulnerable.”

“Is there?” My sister’s knowing look cuts too deep. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re so focused on protecting her that you can’t see how much she needs to protect herself.”

11

Before I can respond, Ms. Winters materializes beside us, clutching an ancient–looking book. “My King, about the prophecies I mentioned-”

“Alpha!” A scout bursts into the training field. “We found something at the border. Symbols carved into the heart tree.”

Fuck. “Show me.”

As I follow the scout, I catch one last glimpse of Sage. She’s actually smiling as she successfully blocks an attack, a flush of pride coloring her cheeks. Our eyes meet across the field, and for a moment, everything else falls away.

Then someone shifts too close to her, and the spell breaks. I force myself to turn away, even as my lycan rages against leaving her.

The symbols carved into the ancient heart tree, named for the shapes gnarled into the trunk, make my blood run cold. They’re old – older than any language I know – and they reek of dark magic. But it’s the fresh claw marks beside them that truly worry me. Five parallel lines, too precise to be random.

A message. A warning.

A howl splits the air as I examine the symbols – the emergency signal from the training field. My heart stops for a split second before I’m running, faster than I’ve ever moved.

I burst onto the field to find chaos. A young wolf lost control during training, his partial shift triggered by frustration. He’s now cornering a group of omegas, his eyes wild with battle rage.

Then I see her.

Sage stands between the feral wolf and the other omegas, her small frame somehow taking up more space than should be possible. Her hands are raised in a calming gesture I recognize from our time in her cottage.

“Focus on my voice,” she says softly, the same way she spoke to me when I was wild with fever. “You’re stronger than the rage.”

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