The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 52

Chapter 52

Alaric

Dawn light catches in her silver–blonde hair as she kneels in her ruined garden, methodically replanting what others destroyed. She doesn’t flinch when I approach, doesn’t startle at my presence anymore. The thought makes my beast purr with satisfaction.

“The moonflowers will bloom again by the next full moon,” she says without looking up. “They’re more resilient than people think.”

Like you, I don’t say. Instead, I kneel beside her in the dirt, not caring about my formal clothes. “Show me how to help?”

Her surprise makes something in my chest ache. “You don’t have to-”

“I want to.” I take the small trowel she offers. “Which ones first?”

We work in comfortable silence, her hands sure and gentle as she guides mine in proper planting technique. My beast settles into rare peace, watching our mate create something beautiful from destruction.

“You’re good at this,” she says softly. “Building things back up.

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The words spark something I’ve been considering since our kiss. Since watching her choose to stay despite everything.

“Sage.” I wait until she meets my eyes. “What do you know about pack inclusion ceremonies?”

Her hands still in the dirt. “I… I’ve heard of them. When wolves choose to formally join a pack.”

“When they choose to put down roots.” I touch a newly planted moonflower. “To make somewhere their home.”

Understanding dawns in her violet eyes. “Alaric…”

“You already belong here. In my heart, in this pack. The ceremony would just make it official.”

“I’m wolfless,” she whispers. “The nobles would never accept-”

“They don’t have to accept it. I’m their King. This is my right.”

“But the politics-”

“Mean nothing compared to what you mean to this pack. To me.” I catch her soil–stained hands in mine. “Let me claim you properly. Let me give you the place you’ve already earned.”

Hope wars with fear in her expression. “You’d face the council for this?”

“I’d face anything for you, sweetling.”

“Does it scare you?” I ask, watching her delicate hands pat soil around tender roots. “Belonging somewhere for real?”

She’s quiet for a moment, considering. “Terrifying,” she finally admits. “The last time I thought I belonged

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Chapter 52

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somewhere…”

“This isn’t Blackthorn.” My voice roughens. “I’m not him.”

“No,” she says softly, touching my cheek. “You’re nothing like him. That’s what scares me most sometimes. How much I want to believe in this. In you.”

My beast preens at her words, at this small admission of trust earned. And I refuse to let her down.

The council meeting goes exactly as expected. Lord Marcus rises first, his aged face grave.

“My King, while we appreciate the omega’s… contributions, tradition demands certain standards-”

“Tradition?” My voice could freeze flame. “Like the tradition of helping injured wolves? Of putting pack before self? Of showing strength in the face of cruelty?”

“She’s wolfless,” Victoria interjects. “How can she truly be pack without—”

“She’s more pack than those who destroy healing gardens out of spite.” The temperature drops with my words. “More pack than those who spread poison about one who saves their warriors.”

“What of her origins?” Lord Marcus presses. “We know nothing of her bloodline, her past-

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“We know her heart,” I counter. “We know her actions. When she found an injured wolf who needed care, did she ask about his bloodline before helping? When our warriors return with wounds that won’t heal, does she check their family trees before mixing her medicines?”

Some council members shift uncomfortably. They’ve all benefited from her healing at some point.

“But the precedent it sets,” Victoria argues. “If we accept a wolfless healer, what’s to stop others from claiming pack rights?”

“Perhaps,” my mother’s voice surprises everyone, “that’s exactly the precedent we need.”

All eyes turn to her. She rarely speaks in council.

“The old stories,” she continues carefully, “speak of packs made stronger by those who chose them. By hearts loyal not through birth, but through love.”

The word ‘love‘ sends whispers through the chamber, but I hold my ground. Let them whisper. Let them see exactly what she means to me.

“The politics of this decision-” another noble starts.

“Are mine to handle.” I let my power fill the room. “I am your King. This is not a request for permission. This is me informing you of what will be.”

Whispers erupt, but I notice some heads nodding. Garrett’s face shows approval, and even some noble wolves seem thoughtful.

“The ceremony will be held in three days,” I continue. “Any who object can bring their concerns to me directly.”

No one moves.

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