The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 86

Sage

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The packhouse buzzes with activity as the first visiting packs arrive. From my window, I watch carriages and wolves in travel form stream through the gates, far more than attended the last disastrous affair. Each arrival brings new scents, new politics, new potential allies or enemies.

“We are stronger now,” Aura reminds me as anxiety flutters in my chest. “No longer the scared omega from Blackthorn.”

She’s right. I touch my pendant, drawing strength from who I’ve become – the last heir of the healing packs, finally coming into my power.

Through the mate bond, I feel Alaric’s pride and protective instincts as he greets ranked visitors. His beast wants to stay close to me, but we both understand the necessity of distance right now.

“Lady Sage?” A young healer from one of the arriving packs approaches tentatively. “We’ve heard so much about your methods…”

More healers gather as I demonstrate techniques for treating mutant wolf attacks. Some watch skeptically, others with open fascination. When I show them how to combine moonflower essence with traditional remedies, even the skeptics lean forward.

“The old texts mention similar techniques,” one elderly healer muses. “But we thought such knowledge was lost with the healing packs.”

“Apparently not all was lost,” a noble wolf drawls from the doorway. His sneer reminds me of Victoria’s.” Though some might question the wisdom of spreading such… unusual methods.”

“Would you prefer we let wolves die from wounds we can’t heal?” I meet his eyes steadily, feeling Aura’s strength. “Or should we work together to save lives?”

He blinks, clearly not expecting resistance. Before he can respond, a commotion erupts outside – warriors arriving with fresh injuries from another attack.

I move without hesitation, Aura’s power flowing through my hands as I assess wounds. “I need silver–leaf and moonflower essence,” I command, and visiting healers rush to help.

Together, we work to save the injured wolves. While I could heal them myself with just a touch, there is no value in that for these men and women who need practical skills when they return home. So I guide the other healers through the techniques, showing rather than telling why these methods work. By the time we finish, even the skeptical noble has fallen silent.

“Impressive,” Lord Harrison comments from the doorway. He’s been watching with several visiting Alphas. “It seems the stories of your abilities weren’t exaggerated.”

The mate bond carries Alaric’s satisfaction at their reaction, though he maintains his stern Alpha mask across

the room.

But not everyone is convinced. I catch whispers as noble wolves cluster in halls: “—unnatural abilities—“”

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healing packs were destroyed for a reason–““–too much power in untested hands-”

“Let them whisper,” Aura growls. “We know our worth now.”

As word spreads about the successful healing, more visiting wolves seek me out. Not just healers now, but ranked wolves wanting to see the “miraculous healer” for themselves.

“The way you combined traditional methods with ancient knowledge,” one Beta observes. “It’s like watching history come alive.”

But others watch with calculated interest that makes me uneasy. I catch one noble wolf sketching my techniques in detail, paying more attention to the specific herbs I use than the actual healing.

“Knowledge should be shared,” I tell him firmly, “not hoarded for power.”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

Iris finds me between healing sessions. “The visiting wolves are forming interesting alliances,” she reports. Some smaller packs band together, seeking protection. Others…”

“Others?” I prompt when she hesitates.

“Others ask very specific questions about you. About your abilities, your background.” She meets my eyes. About whether you’re spoken for.”

IT

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The mate bond pulses with Alaric’s awareness of these inquiries, his lycan’s need to claim me publicly warring with political necessity.

“Let them ask,” Aura growls. “We know who we belong to.”

I’m still not certain how the bond works yet, but I let my devotion to Alaric fill me until I feel like I’ll burst from the strength of it, hoping he’ll sense what I feel for him and let it calm his beast.

The day’s strain starts showing as evening approaches. Maintaining diplomatic facades while healing and teaching takes more energy than I expected. I retreat briefly to the garden, seeking peace among my

moonflowers.

“You’ve grown stronger,” Helena’s voice makes me turn. “Not just in power, but in spirit.”

“Thank you, my Queen,”

“Helena,” she corrects gently. “Especially now, with so many watching.” She touches one of my moonflowers.” They bloom more vibrantly since you came. Like they recognize their own.”

Before I can respond, a servant approaches with news that changes everything:

“Blackthorn’s representatives approach the gates.”

The mate bond carries Alaric’s immediate attention, his need to check on me warring with his duties greeting ranked visitors.

“Stay calm,” Aura soothes as my heart races. “We’re not that frightened omega anymore.”

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Garrett follows shortly after, his face grim. “Blackthorn’s representatives have arrived,” he announces. My heart stops until he adds, “Lord Charles and their head healer.”

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