Mated to the lycan king

Mated to the lycan king

  • theboywhowrites

  • 11.6K words
  • ongoing
  • 16+
  • Eye69
  • Star7.5

It has been many years since Lycans showed themselves to the world. Many humans have had difficulties adjusting to their presence, especially as some Lycans has made the decision to punish who ever disobey them. Many have been killed, homes destroyed and children imprisoned. Eight year old Kaylee has been imprisoned for the past twelve years in the Klawmoon pack and has experienced numerous terrible abuses. However, her life changes when the pack is attacked and she manages to escape, only to finally find herself with another pack in the woods. And it is in this pack, that she realizes that she is the Alpha's mate.

  • Werewolf
  • Alpha
  • Dominant
  • Weak to Strong
  • Revenge
  • Soulmates
  • Fated Love
  • Shapeshifters
  • Pack
  • Action
  • Suspense
  • Sweet
  • Romance
Chapter 1

As I walked to the large guard beyond the steel bars, my fingertips trailed along the grimy wall of my cell, my dark eyes and lips twisted in a grimace. As I stepped out into the light, limping from bruises on the soles of my feet, he shifted and looked at me with disgust.

My gaze darted to the flickering flame of his torch, which tickled the exposed skin of my arms.

Swiftly, I extended my dirty hands beyond the bars, and my mouth watered at the bowl in his free hand. "As usual, Aaron, it looks delicious." I muttered, assessing the dried, stale bread and the small block of cheese on top.

It wouldn't fill me up much, but most meals in this prison didn't.

Aaron, a prison guard and Lycan, grunted at my rough behavior and flashed his eyes in warning. I scuffled backwards, bowl pressed to my chest, back into the darkness of the cell, all the while keeping a wary eye on the Lycan.

He turned without saying anything, the keys attached to the loop of his belt jingling and drawing my attention for a brief moment. Gnawing on the bread, I looked at the metals, knowing how simple it would be to reach out and grab them, but I wouldn't do it.

This Lycan, like most, was aware of any movement, and I knew my footsteps would be heard if I approached him again.

"You have two minutes." Aaron's short, clipped words echoed in my head, and my teeth tore hungrily into the cheese and bread, my stomach churning in discomfort at the smell they emitted.

When I finished eating the malnourished meal, I crouched low, pushed the bowl across the muddy floor, and watched as it slid under the space of the cell door and collide gently with the Lycan's boot.

He tensed his back, and a low growl of annoyance rumbled from his chest.

The huge Lycan turned to face me, and I knew that despite the darkness, he could see me clearly. His upper lip was curled in a snarl, and his eyes sparkled.

"You do that again," he said, motioning to the bowl. "And I'm going to rip your arms off. Give it to me correctly."

As I sat down, my lips folded in tightly and the worn bed creaked, I watched from the corner of my eye as he reluctantly retrieved the bowl, his boots thundering against the floor as he walked away from my line of sight.

My chest ached as I inhaled the odour of faeces and piss that had drifted into my cell, and my hand pressed into my stomach as I felt nauseous.

"The toilet." Crawling on the floor to the cold bars, I called over to the cell opposite mine.

Viktor, an elderly man with a bald head, was seated against the cell wall, his legs and arms unhealthily thin like mine, and he'd recently decided to shit on the floor rather than in his cell's small, filthy toilet.

When he heard my voice, his bald head raised and his blank eyes stared at me. I pointed to the toilet with my thumb. "Don't you think it's better you use that to relieve yourself than do it on the floor?"

I sighed, craning my neck to gain a better view on the elderly man, while my thin lips twitched at my sarcasm. His clothing was ripped from being thrashed by Lycans for refusing to eat, and dried blood was visible against his skin.

Sweat dripped down his neck and onto the floor, and I observed him as he slowly lifted the ends of his shirt to wipe it away.

His hands and head trembled, and I shifted closer to the bars, feeling what was to come. As he sobbed, tears streamed down his hollowed cheeks and his head dipped to his chin. Bruises from his beatings covered his arms, and his fingers caressed them gently.

"They are monsters, Kaylee." He sobbed quietly to himself. "I'm going to die in this prison."

My brow furrowed and my gaze wandered over his body. There were no significant open wounds or other obvious serious injuries, so I glanced at him, perplexed, my forehead resting against the cold steel of the bars.

"I'm afraid I'll have to abandon you here with these creatures." The elderly man mumbled. "And I am deeply sorry."

My head shook. "What exactly do you mean, Viktor?"

Shaking fingers lifted to press against his sweat-soaked shirt, over his heart, and big watery eyes locked with mine. "It's horrible here. I'm going to die soon."

In frustration and concern, my jaw trembled. I'd never seen him in such anguish before. My gaze wandered over the purple, wide marks on his wrists, the slightly swollen jaw, and the vertical scar on his cheek that was almost identical to mine. Anger flared up but was subdued by the sheen of tears on his cheeks.

"Don't bring up the subject of death, Viktor." I finally formed the words, staring hard at the man who had told me stories as a child when I couldn't sleep, the man who had tried everything he could to protect me from the vicious, ruthless actions of Lycans, but had failed. The man I thought was a close friend.

"Tell me about your artwork." I asked, hoping to change his train of thought. Before he was forced to stay in this prison, his paintings had been his pride and joy, and there had been many days when I had visited him feeling down, he would speak passionately about them to distract me from my agony and pain.

But he shook his head, his body easing from its stiff state as his back slid deeper into the wall. "I am too exhausted, Lee, too exhausted," he said hoarsely, his eyes dulling as his eyelids sank and his fingers fisted limply by his sides.

Four days later, Viktor's body was removed from his cell. I sat on my bed, digging my overgrown nails into my palms until blood flowed free, running down my thin wrists and staining the bedding. I took a deep breath, the sound echoing after a loud door swung shut behind me.

As the doors were opened and closed, cries from prisoners in nearby cells pierced the air. I could hear footsteps approaching my cell and clenched my muscles in anticipation, my stinging eyes closing in on the individual who appeared behind the cell door.

"Well, would you look at that," Aaron grumbled. "Is that defeat I see in your eyes, Kaylee? Humans are weak, finally you accepted your fate!"

My teeth gnashed cruelly together, and I lurched forward, my eyes ablaze. "Never." I growled, unfazed by the harsh growl that crept up his throat and the flash of fangs that appeared. He began to chuckle am sure amused by my feigned courage.

"Fool." He spat.

My shoulders tensed at his brief remark, my body quivering as I tried to control my rage. I blinked once, twice, and three times trying to unsuccessfully suppress the tears clouding my eyes as I obeyed his command when he unlocked the cell door, humbly lifting my wrists allowing him to slap on the handcuffs.

He roughly pushed me along the narrow aisle ensuring I do not lag behind. My bare feet smacked on the chill floor, and my gaze shifted between the guards stationed in front of the locked cell doors and the slim, ill looking figures inside the cells.

They all stared stoically as we walked past them, and I cast a wary glance over my shoulder to Aaron, whose grip tightened when he discovered my gaze had shortly shifted to him.

"Go faster." He spat, and I did so immediately but unwillingly. The cuts on my feet didn't assist my speed, and I limped the most of the way, biting back whimpers that threatened to fall from the throbbing pain.

We stopped at the prison's exit, and I was speechless when he opened it and pushed me ahead. We were in a hallway I'd been down many times with Aaron, and my stomach fell and my steps slowed.

"I have not disobeyed your orders." I jerked my head to the looming Lycan, my eyes begging him not to take me back to that room. "I've been following your instructions." I yelled unable to conceal my fear.

Aaron's lips lifted dryly as he dragged me forward. "Did you?"

I strained my brain, trying to remember if I'd recently done something he'd forbidden, but I couldn't think of anything. However, two weeks ago, I spat in the face of a Lycan who had passed by my cell.

He had not been a guard at this prison, which was obvious because he was not wearing a uniform, but he acted just as stupid as the guards here do. He'd made lewd, suggestive remarks, zipped down his pants to expose his genital which made me finally snap, I spat in his face, and yelled curses until the guards escorted the man away.

My back still ached from the subsequent short whipping that followed.

When we came to a halt in front of a very familiar room, a trickle-like sensation ran up my body. The walls were white and brilliant, a stark contrast to what they had been just two weeks before; someone had washed my blood.

As we entered, two Lycans stood still, and my legs trembled as I limpedS against the tiled floor.


Aaron closed the door behind us grinning slightly as he removed my handcuffs, utterly disregarding my question. They clattered to the ground, and I tried to back away from the Lycan's grasp.

He wrapped his fingers around my throat and dragged me forward, ignoring me as I frantically scratched his wrist, my garbled words coming to a halt as his grip tightened.

My legs kicked as I was briefly hoisted, the two Lycans holding my arms and tying my right arm to one of the metal poles, my left arm to the other.

Aaron tightened the rope that bound my left arm as I struggled to free myself till it cut deep into my skin, the gazes of the Lycans in the room made my body crawl. My frail, thin blouse was ripped down the center, and I shivered at the sensation of claws gliding across my mending skin.

"No, please." I begged, even when I heard the sound of a cabinet opening, excited footsteps moving across the room, and the whip cracking teasingly in the air above me.

My head lowered as I looked down at the floor, arms still limply struggling against my binds. The room spun as my panic increased, my heart racing in my chest.

"Stay still." Behind me, Aaron rasped. As I envisioned him rising an arm with that black whip in palm and eyes shining with blood-lust, the fabrics of his garments brushing together.

As chill air brushed across the skin of my back, I lowered my head to the floor, bracing myself for the excruciating bite of the whip.

But it never met my back.

Instead, gunshots rang out from outside the building, along with shrill shouts of dread and wrath interwoven with deep howls.

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