The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 43

Chapter 43

Sage

The yarrow leaves blur before my eyes as my mind drifts to last night in the garden. The gentle way Alaric helped sort herbs, how his jacket smelled of pine and winter wind, the warmth of his forehead pressed to mine…

I catch myself smiling and immediately try to suppress it. I can’t afford these kinds of thoughts. Can’t risk hoping, can’t risk feeling-

“That’s the third time you’ve counted those leaves.”

I jump at Iris’s voice. She leans against the healing wing doorway, grinning like she knows exactly where my mind was wandering.

“I was just…” I gesture vaguely at the herbs. “Making sure.”

“Mmhmm.” She drops into the chair beside me. “Nothing to do with my brother being shirtless in the training yard?”

Heat floods my cheeks. I hadn’t even realized I could see the training yard from here. Hadn’t noticed the way sunlight gleamed off his scarred skin, how power rippled through his movements as he demonstrated fighting techniques…

“I’m not looking,” I insist, focusing harder on the yarrow.

“Of course not.” Her knowing smile widens. “Just like you weren’t watching him at breakfast. Or noticing how he just happens to patrol wherever you’re working.‘

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“He’s the Alpha. He patrols everywhere.”

But she’s right. I have been noticing things. Little things that add up to something I’m afraid to

name.

The way he positions himself between me and any threat, no matter how small. How he actually listens when I explain healing techniques, asking questions that show genuine interest. The gentleness in his voice when he calls me “sweetling.”

It’s nothing like Cassius’s calculated charm. Nothing like the carefully crafted gestures designed to win my trust before shattering it.

Alaric’s care feels… real.

Even his deception about his identity, which still stings, came from a place of duty rather than cruelty. He was investigating threats to his pack, not playing with my heart for entertainment.

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Chapter 43

“Earth to Sage?” Iris waves a hand in front of my face. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“That smile. The one you get when you’re thinking about him.”

I touch my lips, surprised to find them curved upward. When did that start happening?

+25 BONUS

The afternoon finds me in the garden, gathering fresh herbs. It’s becoming harder to ignore the way my heart jumps every time I catch Alaric’s scent on the breeze. Harder to pretend I don’t feel safer just knowing he’s near.

A shadow falls over my work, and my pulse skips before I realize it’s Victoria.

“Still playing at being useful?” Her smile shows teeth. “How… sweet.

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I brace for more cruel words, but suddenly Alaric is there, materializing like my thoughts summoned

him.

“Victoria.” His voice carries just enough warning to make her step back. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

She retreats with a practiced bow, but I barely notice. I’m too caught up in the way Alaric’s hand hovers near my lower back, not quite touching but ready to support if needed.

It’s such a small gesture. Nothing like the dramatic rescues in stories. But something about its quiet sincerity makes my chest ache.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

His fingers brush my spine so lightly I might have imagined it. “Always, sweetling.”

The word hits differently now. Less like a casual endearment, more like a promise.

The next morning, I’m sorting through stored herbs in the healing wing when a commotion outside draws my attention. A young wolf has fallen during training, and before I can think better of it, I rush to help.

The nobles watching from the sidelines fall silent as I approach, but I barely notice them. The pup’s knee is badly scraped, and he’s trying not to cry.

“Here,” I say softly, pulling dried yarrow and calendula from my apron pocket. “This will help with the pain.”

As I work, I feel Alaric’s presence before I see him. He kneels beside us, his large frame making the young wolf’s eyes go wide.

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Chapter 43

+25 BONUS

“My King,” the pup stammers. “I’m sorry – I should be stronger-

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“Strength,” Alaric says quietly, “comes in many forms.” His eyes meet mine over the pup’s head. ” Sometimes the strongest thing we can do is accept help when we need it.”

Something warm unfurls in my chest at his words. At the way he stays while I treat the injury, showing the whole pack that he values healing as much as fighting.

When the pup runs off to rejoin training, Alaric helps me gather my scattered supplies. His fingers brush mine as he hands me a fallen herb packet, and the contact sends sparks dancing across my skin.

“You’re good with them,” he says. “The pups. The injured. Anyone who needs gentle hands.”

“I just try to help where I can.”

“You do more than try.” His voice roughens slightly. “You heal more than just wounds, sweetling.”

The words follow me through the rest of the day, warming me like sunshine. I find myself watching him when he thinks I’m not looking – the way he leads with quiet strength rather than showmanship, how he treats the weakest pack members with the same respect as the strongest.

Later, I find myself back in the window seat of the library, watching the moon rise. My pendant feels warm against my skin as I try to sort through the tangle of emotions in my chest.

I’m falling for him.

The realization should terrify me more than it does. After Cassius, after everything, I should run from these feelings as fast as I can.

But Alaric isn’t Cassius. Where Cassius pretended gentleness to hide cruelty, Alaric pretends coldness to hide how deeply he cares. Where Cassius’s charm was all surface, Alaric’s strength goes soul–deep.

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