Betrayed by the Prince, Claimed by the King

The Lycan King, Ryland Freeman, was not a man who indulged in excess. His pack’s hierarchy was simple—only three high-ranking females, including the Lycan Queen, Morgan Henderson. His heirs were few, just the future Lycan Prince, Kaden Freeman, and a little Lycan Princess born to one of the pack’s lesser females. Kaden, as the heir, had been pampered and cherished since birth. Yet, despite his status, his health had always been fragile, and his appetite was notoriously poor. The pack’s finest cooks had been brought in, one after another, but none could satisfy him.

That’s where I came in. Layla Gilbert, an Omega from the Lycan Prince’s pack, who somehow managed to cook the meals he would actually eat. People in the pack said it was luck—that I was just fortunate enough to stumble upon the right combination of flavors that suited him. For nine years, I believed that too, and so did he.

The day I entered the Lycan Prince’s quarters, I was a mess. I’d just said goodbye to my friend Mary Bennett and left behind my life in the Omega’s wing. My eyes were swollen from crying, and I could barely hold myself together. The Lycan Prince, Jared Ross, stood before me, his slender frame and sharp features already carrying an air of authority, even at just nine years old. He frowned at me, his voice light but laced with the arrogance of someone who knew his place.

“Stop sniveling,” he said, his tone dismissive. “You think this place is worse than where you came from?”

I bowed my head, murmuring my thanks, and went to prepare his meal. He threw the table over in a fit of anger, his foot lashing out to kick me. “Who do you think you are?” he snapped. “You’re lucky I even let you stand here.”

I didn’t argue. I cleaned up the mess and made another meal. Over time, I learned his habits—how to soothe his temper, how to coax him into eating. I’d let him vent, then gently persuade him to take another bite. Slowly, his health improved. His cheeks gained color, and his strength returned. The Lycan Queen, pleased with his progress, promoted me to his personal attendant.

On the nights I was on duty, he’d have me read to him—pack laws, histories, strategies. Sometimes he’d fall asleep, but if I stopped reading, he’d stir and grumble, “Don’t stop. You think I can sleep if you’re not reading?”

By the time he turned thirteen, he was growing fast, his appetite increasing. He’d call for me in the middle of the night, demanding I prepare him something to eat. Afterward, he’d toss me a handmade trinket—a wooden hairpin, a beaded bracelet. “Keep it safe,” he’d say. “Not everyone gets this kind of favor.”

I kept them all, tucked away in a small box. Among them was a bone from the first wild game he’d hunted during a pack run. He’d told me to keep it, and I’d fashioned it into a pendant, threading it with a cord. He’d scoffed, “Your craftsmanship needs work,” but I’d seen the hint of a smile.

Nine years passed. The Lycan Queen arranged for Jared to mark Arielle Murray, the daughter of a high-ranking Beta. That day, I cried. I knew the rules—I wasn’t foolish enough to think I could be his Luna. But it hurt, like a cold wind cutting through me.

The Lycan Queen joked that once he was marked, I could become his chosen mate, a secondary bond. That night, Jared tossed me a golden hairpin. The others in the pack whispered it was a sign of his affection, a promise of what was to come. I stored it carefully, like all the other gifts.

During the next pack run, I was ill, but Jared insisted I come along. “You don’t have to cook,” he said. “Just oversee the others.” But when we arrived, he dragged me out of bed, saying Arielle wanted to taste my cooking. I forced myself to prepare a meal, but she found it too bland and punished me by making me kneel in the snow all night.

Jared passed by, his voice cold. “I’ve been too lenient with you. It’s time you learned your place.”

I didn’t last the night. Someone found me unconscious and brought me back to the tent. I fell seriously ill and returned to the pack’s main quarters early, only to discover Mary had been framed and imprisoned. I waited for Jared to return, desperate for his help.

He was busy with Arielle, folding paper birds. “An Omega’s life or death is no concern of mine,” he said dismissively. But I remembered when he’d praised Mary, when the three of us had spent afternoons by the lake, grilling meat, flying kites.

I sighed, arranging the meal I’d prepared. Jared was particular—fish had to be deboned, meat trimmed of fat, vegetables only the tenderest parts. As I worked, he walked in, frowning at the red marks on my neck. “Is that a rash?” he asked. “You’re not carrying some disease, are you?”

I pulled my collar up. “Just a bug bite,” I murmured.

He passed by, then called me over. “My arm’s sore. Come and massage it.”

I worked quietly, and he spoke up again. “I heard Mary was released?”

“Yes,” I said.

“What’s with that tone? Are you blaming me?”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“You’ve been sulking ever since I was matched with Arielle. But you know I had no say in it. Besides, the Lycan Queen said you’d be my chosen mate. What more do you want?”

I didn’t want more. I was lucky. And if I was lucky, I’d find luck wherever I went.

Grady Hernandez, a Beta in Jared’s pack, entered with Arielle. She shot me a cold look. “Leave us. I need to speak with Jared.”

I turned to go, but she leaned in, her voice sharp. “I know you’ve been with him for nine years, but remember your place. An Omega will always be an Omega.”

Grady followed me out, shutting the door behind him. “Arielle’s from a noble line,” he sneered. “What do you have to offer? Know your place, or you’ll regret it.”

He left, glaring at me. Grady had always resented me, thinking cooking was all I was good for. But anyone could learn to cook.

“The Lycan King returns the day after tomorrow,” he said. “The pack’s elders will finalize Jared and Arielle’s mark ceremony. Your time’s up.”

The Lycan King was returning? Time moved so quickly.