The Lycan King’s Secret Triplets

The moon hung high and full over the Blood Moon Pack, a blinding silver eye staring down in judgment. Tonight was the night of the Centennial Ball. Tonight was the night every wolf in the pack celebrated power, lineage, and the blessing of the Moon Goddess.

​And tonight was my eighteenth birthday.

​For any other girl in the pack, turning eighteen was the most important day of her life. It was the day her wolf would finally wake up. It was the day she would shift for the first time. It was the day she might find her Fated Mate.

​But for me? I was scrubbing champagne vomit off the marble floors of the Alpha’s bathroom while the party raged downstairs.

​"Elara! Move your ass!"

​The sharp voice of the Head Omega, Martha, cracked like a whip through the hallway. I flinched, dropping the scrub brush into the bucket of gray water.

​"I’m coming, Martha," I called back, my voice raspy from disuse.

​I wiped my raw, red hands on my apron. It was a filthy gray rag, a stark contrast to the silk and satin gowns I had seen the other girls wearing earlier. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror above the sink. Huge, hollow hazel eyes stared back from a pale, gaunt face. My brown hair was pulled back in a severe bun, hiding the fact that it hadn't been washed with real shampoo in weeks.

​I looked like a ghost. I looked like what I was: the pack Runt.

​"They need more wine servers in the ballroom," Martha hissed as I hurried into the hallway. She shoved a heavy silver tray into my hands, loaded with crystal flutes. "And don't you dare drop anything, or you won't eat for a week. Again."

​"Yes, Martha."

​I kept my head down as I descended the grand staircase. The noise of the party hit me like a physical wall—the roar of laughter, the clinking of glass, the overpowering musk of hundreds of wolves in one room.

​My heart hammered against my ribs. Please, I prayed silently to a Goddess I wasn't sure was listening. Please let my wolf wake up tonight. Please let me shift.

​If I shifted, I wouldn't be the "Wolfless Runt" anymore. I would be a member of the pack. I would have rights. I could stop scrubbing floors.

​I wove through the crowd, offering champagne to men who looked at me with disgust and women who didn't look at me at all.

​"Happy Birthday, Runt."

​I froze. I didn't need to look up to know who it was. The scent of cloying, expensive roses and malice filled my nose.

​Tiffany. The Beta’s daughter. My tormentor since kindergarten.

​She stood in front of me, resplendent in a crimson gown that cost more than my life was worth. She held a glass of red wine, swirling it dangerously.

​"I didn't think they let stray dogs into the ballroom," Tiffany sneered, loud enough for the circle of elites around her to hear. They snickered.

​"I'm just working, Tiffany," I murmured, staring at her shoes. "Please."

​"Please what?" She took a step closer. "Please let you pretend you're one of us? You're eighteen today, Elara. Has your wolf said hello yet?" She tapped her ear theatrically. "Do you hear her? Or is it just... silence?"

​I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper. It was silent. Usually, by midnight on their eighteenth birthday, a wolf would hear the voice of their beast.

​I checked the clock on the wall. 11:55 PM.

​Five minutes left.

​"That's what I thought," Tiffany laughed. With a casual flick of her wrist, she "tripped," sending the contents of her wine glass splashing across the front of my apron and dress.

​The cold liquid soaked through to my skin instantly. The crowd erupted in laughter.

​"Oops," Tiffany smirked. "Looks like the trash is dirty. Someone take it out."

​Tears pricked my eyes, hot and humiliating. I bent down to pick up the fallen glass, my hands shaking. I just wanted to disappear. I wanted to die.

​And then, the air changed.

​It happened in a heartbeat. The heavy, suffocating scent of the ballroom vanished, replaced by a smell so powerful, so intoxicating, that my knees actually buckled.

​It smelled like a thunderstorm. It smelled like cedarwood, ozone, and raw, terrifying power.

​My wolf—who had been silent for eighteen years—suddenly snarled in the back of my mind. It wasn't a voice yet, just a feeling. A primitive, desperate need.

​MATE.

​The tray slipped from my fingers.

​CRASH.

​The sound of shattering crystal silenced the room instantly. The music stopped. Hundreds of eyes turned to me. But I didn't care. I couldn't breathe. I scrambled to my feet, my eyes scanning the room, hunting for the source of that scent.

​My gaze locked on the dais at the front of the room.

​He was standing there, freezing mid-conversation with his father. He was tall, with broad shoulders that strained against his tuxedo. His hair was ink-black, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass.

​Alpha Jax.

​The future Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack. The cruelest, most arrogant, most beautiful man I had ever seen.

​He slowly turned his head. His dark eyes met mine across the crowded ballroom.

​The connection was instant. It was like a golden thread snapped into place between our chests, pulling us together with the force of gravity. I gasped, clutching my heart. The pain and the pleasure were overwhelming.

​"Jax?" I whispered. The name tasted like honey on my tongue.

​The crowd parted as he stepped off the dais. He moved like a predator, stalking toward me. His face was unreadable, a mask of stone.

​My heart soared. It’s him. It’s Jax.

​The irony wasn't lost on me. He had bullied me for years. He had called me useless. But the Moon Goddess didn't make mistakes. We were Fated. The bond would change him. He would feel what I felt—this overwhelming love, this need to protect.

​I would be Luna.

​"Jax," I breathed again as he stopped inches from me. He towered over me, his shadow consuming me.

​The entire pack watched in stunned silence. The Runt and the Future Alpha? It was impossible.

​Jax leaned down. He inhaled deeply near my neck, where my scent gland was flaring. I closed my eyes, tilting my head back, waiting for his touch, waiting for the spark that would seal our bond.

​"You," he said.

​But his voice wasn't filled with love. It was filled with disgust.

​I opened my eyes. Jax was looking at me like I was something he had stepped in. His lip curled in a sneer that shattered my soul.

​"Fate must be drunk," he scoffed, loud enough for the back of the room to hear. "You? My mate?"

​The golden thread between us vibrated with his rejection. I reached out a trembling hand. "Jax, please. The bond... you feel it. I know you feel it."

​"I feel it," he said coldly. "And it makes me sick."

​He stepped back, wiping his hand on his jacket as if my proximity had soiled him. He turned to the crowd, raising his voice.

​"Look at her!" he shouted, gesturing to me. "A wolfless, weak, pathetic servant. She hasn't even shifted on her eighteenth birthday. She is a defect!"

​"I'm not!" I cried, tears spilling over. "I felt my wolf! She's there!"

​"Silence!" Jax roared.

​The power of his Alpha voice hit me like a physical blow. It forced me to my knees among the broken glass. Shards sliced into my skin, but the pain in my chest was worse.

​Jax looked down at me, his eyes devoid of mercy.

​"I need a Luna who is a warrior. A Luna who brings strength to my bloodline. Not a genetic mistake." He reached out and grabbed Tiffany’s hand, pulling her to his side. Tiffany beamed, looking down at me with triumph.

​"I choose Tiffany," Jax declared. "She will be my Luna."

​"No," I whispered, shaking my head. "You can't. The bond..."

​"Watch me."

​Jax took a deep breath. The air in the room grew heavy with ancient magic. He was invoking the Rite of Rejection.

​"I, Alpha Jax of the Blood Moon Pack," he began, his voice booming like thunder.

​"Don't," I sobbed. "Jax, please, it will kill me!"

​"...reject you, Elara Vance," he continued, his eyes burning with cold fire. "I reject you as my mate. I reject you as my Luna. I sever the bond."

​SNAP.

​The sound was internal, but it was louder than a gunshot. I felt the golden thread between us stretch, fray, and then violently snap.

​The pain was blinding. It felt like someone had reached into my chest and ripped out half of my heart with a rusty hook.

​I screamed.

​It was a raw, animalistic sound that tore from my throat. I collapsed onto the wine-soaked floor, curling into a ball, clutching my chest. Blood filled my mouth. I coughed, splattering red onto the white marble.

​The bond was gone. In its place was a gaping, icy void.

​"Get her out of here," Jax said dismissively, turning his back on me to kiss Tiffany. "She's ruining the party."

​Two guards grabbed my arms and dragged me across the floor. My legs wouldn't work. I watched Jax—my mate, my destiny—laughing with another woman as I was hauled away like garbage.

​They threw me out the back door into the mud.

​"Stay out of sight, Runt," one of the guards spat. "If the Alpha sees you again tonight, he’ll finish the job."

​I lay in the mud for a long time, the rain mixing with my tears and the blood on my dress. Every breath was agony. The rejection sickness was already setting in. My skin felt like it was burning, my bones aching.

​I had to get to Dr. Morris. He was the only one who had ever shown me kindness.

​I dragged myself up, stumbling through the dark alleyways toward the pack infirmary. I collapsed through the back door, startling the old doctor who was organizing files.

​"Elara!" Dr. Morris dropped his clipboard and rushed over. He scooped me up, his old face pale with horror. "Goddess above, child. Did he do it? Did he reject you?"

​I couldn't speak. I just nodded, coughing up more blood.

​He laid me on the exam table, his hands moving fast. He hooked me up to a monitor. The beeping was erratic—my heart rate was through the roof.

​"I need to scan you," he muttered, pulling the ultrasound machine over. "Rejection causes massive internal trauma. We need to make sure your organs aren't shutting down."

​He lifted my shirt, slathering cold gel on my stomach. I stared at the ceiling, wishing the darkness would just take me. I had nothing left. No mate. No status. No wolf.

​Dr. Morris moved the wand over my abdomen. He frowned. He moved it again.

​The color drained from his face completely.

​"Elara," he whispered, his voice trembling.

​"Am I dying?" I asked dully. "It's okay if I am."

​"No," he said, turning the screen toward me. He pointed to a tiny, pulsating dot. "You're not dying. But you are in grave danger."

​I squinted at the screen. "What is that?"

​"That," Dr. Morris swallowed hard, "is a pup. You're pregnant, Elara."

​The room spun. Pregnant?

​"That... that's impossible," I stammered. "I've never... I'm a virgin!"

​"The scan doesn't lie," he said urgently. "You're about four weeks along."

​Four weeks.

​My mind flashed back. One month ago. The night of the Hunter's Moon. I had been in the woods, gathering herbs for Martha. A strange heat had overtaken me—a false heat, I had thought. I had stumbled, delirious, into a clearing.

​I remembered... eyes.

​Not Jax's dark eyes.

​Golden eyes. Molten, glowing gold, like liquid sun. And a beast. A massive, terrifying beast that hadn't hurt me. It had... claimed me.

​I had suppressed the memory. Trauma, Dr. Morris had called it.

​"Does Jax know?" Dr. Morris grabbed my shoulders, shaking me back to reality.

​"No," I whispered. "It's not his."

​"If Jax finds out you are pregnant with another male's pup—a rogue's pup—after he just rejected you..." Dr. Morris looked at the door, terror in his eyes. "He won't just kill you, Elara. He will kill the baby. It’s Alpha law. No bastards allowed."

​A cold clarity washed over me. The pain in my chest was still there, but suddenly, it didn't matter.

​I had a baby. I had someone who needed me.

​I sat up, ignoring the screaming protest of my muscles. "I have to leave."

​"Yes," Dr. Morris went to his safe. He pulled out a wad of cash and a car key. "Take my old sedan. It's parked round back. Drive toward the human territories. Do not stop. Do not look back."

​He shoved the money into my hand. "Go, child. Run."

​I didn't say goodbye. I grabbed the keys and sprinted out the back door. I could hear the music from the party still thumping in the distance—the sound of my life shattering.

​I climbed into the rusty car and turned the ignition. As I peeled out onto the main road, leaving the Blood Moon Pack behind forever, I put a hand on my flat stomach.

​"I don't know who your father is," I whispered to the tiny life inside me. "But I promise you this: I will burn the world down before I let them touch you."

​I drove into the darkness, toward a future I couldn't see, running from a past that wanted me dead.