The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Alaric

From my office window, their laughter carries on the morning breeze. Sage and Iris sit in the garden, heads bent together over breakfast, sunlight turning Sage’s silver–blonde hair to starfire. My lycan rumbles with contentment at seeing our mate happy, even if we can’t claim her yet.

Then the wind shifts, bringing a scent that turns my blood to ice. My parents are here. Three weeks early.

By the time the guards announce their arrival, I’m already in the courtyard. Phantom paces beneath my skin, agitated by the approaching threat to our fragile peace.

Father’s power hits like a physical wave as their carriage arrives – cold, implacable Alpha energy that used to send me to my knees as a pup. Now I stand firm, though something deep inside still wants to flinch.

“Alaric.” His voice carries the weight of decades of judgment. Even before he steps down, his eyes scan the courtyard, cataloging weaknesses. “Your eastern guard post is exposed. A child could breach it.”

“Father.” I bow exactly as deeply as protocol demands, not an inch more. “We weren’t expecting you until next moon.”

“A king must be ready for anything.” The lesson lands like all his others – sharp enough to draw blood. Mother descends gracefully, her presence a gentle counterpoint to his winter–steel energy. “My son.” Her embrace is brief, careful not to show too much warmth before my father’s measuring gaze.

Movement catches my eye – Sage slipping back into the shadows of the packhouse. Even at this distance, I can sense her unease. My lycan strains toward her, wanting to protect, to reassure.

“The pack seems… softer than when I last visited.” Father’s words slice through my distraction. “One might worry you’re losing your edge.”

Don’t react. Don’t defend. Don’t show weakness.

The lessons rise automatically, carved into bone by years of similar conversations. But now they war with newer instincts – the need to protect what’s mine, to challenge anyone who threatens my mate, even my own father.

“The pack is stronger than ever,” I say instead, letting a careful measure of Alpha power color my tone. “Perhaps you’d like to inspect the new training programs.”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps I would.”

Mother touches my arm as we walk, a ghost of comfort. She sees too much, always has. Her gaze drifts to where Sage disappeared, then back to me with knowing sympathy.

–

The morning dissolves into a parade of criticisms thinly veiled as concerns. Father finds fault with everything border patrols, training schedules, pack hierarchy. Each barbed comment carries the weight of remembered lessons: bruises from “training accidents,” nights spent in the cold to “build character,” endless lectures about weakness and duty and the price of power.

By the time we gather for private family lunch, my beast is a snarling mass of barely contained rage.

“Interesting choice,” Father says, cutting into his meat with surgical precision, “taking in a wolfless omega from Blackthorn. One might question the wisdom of such… charity.”

Across the table, Sage goes very still. Iris invited her, insisting on proper pack integration, but now my sister’s

Chapter 28

+25 BONUS

defiant expression suggests she’s regretting that choice.

“Sage has proven herself valuable to the pack,” I say carefully, watching Father’s reaction.

“Has she?” His eyes pin her like a butterfly to cork. “And how does a wolfless omega contribute to pack strength?”

Memory slams into me – being caught sneaking food to an injured omega when I was twelve. The week of isolation that followed. A king cannot afford mercy. Mercy gets warriors killed.

But before I can respond, Sage straightens in her chair. “I help in the healing wing, my King. And I’m learning defense, to avoid being a burden on pack resources.”

Pride wars with terror in my chest. My mate is stronger than anyone knows, but Father will see that strength as a challenge.

His smile shows too many teeth. “Bold little thing, aren’t you?”

TEALIN

“Perseus.” Mother’s quiet voice carries surprising steel. “Perhaps we should discuss the Northern Alliance instead.”

The conversation turns to politics, but I feel Father’s attention return to Sage throughout the meal, calculating and cold. Phantom howls to challenge him, to defend what’s ours, but centuries of training hold me in check. Later, in my study, he finally strikes.

“You’re distracted,” he says, studying the territory maps on my wall. “Weak. I taught you better than this.” “The pack is thriving,” I counter. “Our borders are secure, our numbers growing-

11

“And yet you waste time on strays and lost causes.” He turns, power rolling off him in arctic waves. “A king cannot afford such… indulgences.”

Something inside me snaps. “Compassion isn’t weakness.”

The words hang between us like drawn blades. In thirty years, I’ve never directly challenged him.

His eyes bleed Alpha–gold. “No? Tell that to the warriors who die when their king’s soft heart betrays them.” “And what about the ones who die because their king’s heart is too hard to recognize their loyalty?”

The temperature in the room plummets. For a moment, I think he’ll actually attack. Instead, he laughs like breaking ice.

a sound

“You’ve changed,” he says, and for the first time, I hear uncertainty beneath the disapproval. “Perhaps she’s changed you.”

He doesn’t wait for my response, turning on his heel and leaving me alone with that truth.

Hours later, I find myself outside the library. Sage’s scent leads me inside, to where she sits curled in a window seat, moonlight painting her in silver. She looks up as I approach, violet eyes full of questions I’m not ready to

answer,

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, “about lunch.”

“Don’t be.” She marks her place in her book opinions like his.”

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify