A Doctor For The Lycan King: My Cursed Mate

Tyler Hart

People imagine the Lycan throne as a seat of glory, wealth, power, and adoration. They forget it is also a seat built on blood. Many have tried to take it from me, foolish enough to believe the crown is easy to claim.

They learned the hard way that war with me is war with extinction. I have erased entire bloodlines from history. This throne is my family’s legacy, carved over centuries, and I will not be the Hart who lets another lineage steal what we bled to protect.

But of all the battles I’ve fought, none are as relentless as the one inside me: loneliness.

I have watched pack brothers, warriors, and even my enemies find their mates while I remain cursed, locked between fate and choice. The three women I chose as mates — each of them died within days of being marked; the wound never healing.

Loretta’s death cut the deepest. We had agreed to wait, to bring in the most powerful witch we knew before sealing our bond.

But she grew impatient, so I gave in and marked her. Five days later, Lena found her lifeless in her chambers.

The guilt has been my shadow ever since. So I swore, no matter the pressure from the elders or the kingdom, never again. If the Moon Goddess refuses me a mate, then my pack will remain without a Luna. I’ll find another way to secure an heir, and the curse can rot with me.

A knock broke my thoughts. I already knew the scent: Declan, my Beta. He didn’t wait for permission before stepping inside.

“The elders are in the throne room,” he said, dropping into the chair opposite me. “Waiting again.”

I exhaled heavily. “When they summon me, it’s always the same song: choose a mate, choose a mate. You’d think they would spare a thought for the women who died because of this curse.”

My voice dropped, hard with sarcasm. “Maybe this time I’ll choose one of their precious daughters.”

Declan smirked. “That would shut them up, briefly. But with the curse spreading, they’re desperate. Fear makes people restless.”

I rose from my seat. “I have my own fears to wrestle, but I don’t go breathing down their necks for the sins of their predecessors. The curse is their legacy too.”

I sent a sharp mind link to my Gamma, ordering her to join us, and strode toward the throne room with Declan close behind.

***

The air in the throne room was tense. Six elders sat in a crescent before me, exchanging glances like cowards deciding who will be the sacrificial speaker.

“Speak,” I commanded, my voice cutting through their hesitation. “I have no time for your staring contests.”

Abbot, the eldest and most cunning among them, finally rose. His tone was careful, but his eyes held that calculating glint I’ve learned to despise.

“Your Majesty, the council shares your concern for the curse. If we do not act, our race may weaken to the point where even humans might see us as vulnerable.”

My lips curled into a sharp smile. “Humans? They would not dare. If they so much as blink in our direction, I will wipe them from the map.”

Abbot pressed on. “Which is why we sought the guidance of a seer. Not another prophecy,” he added quickly, “but a true vision. She confirmed that breaking the Moon Goddess’s curse is bound to you finding your true mate. Only then will the healer be born.”

I laughed, cold and humorless.

“Three centuries I’ve searched, and still she hasn’t come. Now you expect me to believe the kingdom’s salvation hinges on a woman who likely doesn’t exist? If the Moon Goddess wants me to find her, she can deliver her to my gates. Or you can find her yourselves. I’m done hunting ghosts.”

I moved to leave, but Elijah’s voice halted me.

“Your Majesty, if you do not find your mate before this year ends, the council will strip you of the throne.”

The room trembled with my growl; the raw force of my power sent them staggering back.

“You dare threaten me in my own palace, for a curse your forefathers birthed?” I stepped forward, my voice low and lethal. “Test me again, and I will make the Hart legacy an outstanding achievement of slaughtering its own council.”

The elders stood, turning their backs to me — a silent declaration that their decision stood.

I let the silence stretch, my anger pulsing in the air. “Very well,” I said finally, my voice like steel. “By year’s end, I will be here waiting, and if you come for my throne, you had better bring an army — and your last prayers.”

I walked out, leaving the weight of my promise hanging in the air like the scent of blood.