The Lycan Kings and their Hybrid Mate

Elara’s POV

The wind was warm today.

It threaded through the leaves of the massive oak tree above us, making the branches whisper softly as the sunlight danced across the grass. I leaned back against the rough bark, letting the breeze push strands of my dark hair across my face. 

For a moment, it felt peaceful. But peace was a dangerous thing to get used to.

“Gods above,” Clara groaned beside me. “Look at them.”

I followed her gaze lazily. In front of us stretched the training field. Young warriors sparred in pairs, their boots kicking up dirt as fists collided and bodies slammed into the ground. Shouts, laughter, and the occasional curse echoed through the open space.

These weren’t full warriors yet. Not officially. They were the ones still training. The ones trying to earn their place. The future protectors of the kingdom.

Clara leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm with a dreamy sigh. “Look at the one with the dark hair,” she whispered. “The one throwing punches like he’s trying to break the earth.”

I glanced over briefly. “Looks like he’s trying to break his opponent’s nose.”

“That too.” She grinned. Clara had always loved watching the training field. Ever since we were little girls, she’d drag me out here to sit under this very tree and gossip about the boys.

Me? I just liked the quiet. Or as quiet as you could get while someone was getting body-slammed into the dirt.

Clara nudged my shoulder. “You’re not even paying attention.”

I smirked slightly but didn’t argue. Truth was, watching warriors train wasn’t nearly as interesting as Clara made it out to be.

At least, not usually. My eyes drifted across the field again. Bodies moved chaotically . Muscles flexed, boots scraped, fists cracked against skin. Sweat glistened under the sun.

Strength. Power. Control. All things that ruled this world. Things I had learned early not to draw attention to.

Clara stretched her legs out in front of her. “You remember when we used to pretend we were warriors?” she said suddenly.

I chuckled quietly. “We used sticks as swords.”

“And you always beat me.” She said with a huff. 

“That’s because you fought like a blind goat.” I shrugged my shoulders and continued to fidget with a blade of grass. 

She gasped dramatically. “I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

She smacked my arm lightly. “You’re rude.”

“And honest.”

Clara huffed, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. We had grown up together. Our entire lives. She was my best friend. Actually, she was my only friend. 

Clara was loud where I was quiet. Bright where I preferred shadows. She spoke whatever popped into her head while I carefully weighed every word.

Opposites, maybe. But somehow it worked.

The wind picked up again, lifting strands of my hair and brushing cool fingers along my neck.

For a moment, I closed my eyes. And memories slipped in where they weren’t welcome.

I don’t remember the compound much. I was barely two when we left. But sometimes fragments surfaced. A strange pieces of a life that felt more like a dream than reality.

Cold stone walls. Voices echoing down long corridors. The distant scent of damp earth and fire. I knew what happened there only because my mother told me. And because of the journals she left behind. My fingers curled slightly in the grass.

My mother had been running. Running from the coven that cast her out. At the time, she had been pregnant with me. Pregnant with something that wasn’t supposed to exist. My father had been an Alpha. A powerful one, from what she said. Strong. Feared. And very, very dead. Killed in a battle inside the caves long before I could ever know him. Sometimes I wondered what kind of man he had been. Sometimes I wondered if I had his temper.

Clara’s voice pulled me back to the present.

“You’re doing it again.” She rolled her eyes. The same way she always did when I went off in my head. 

I blinked. “Doing what?” But I knew exactly what I was doing. I was remembering. 

“Thinking too much.” She rolled her eyes once again as she blew out a puff of air. 

“I always think too much.” I deadpanned. 

“That’s because you live in your head,” she said, pointing a finger at my temple.

“Someone has to.” I said nonchalantly. 

She rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Yet you keep me around.” I rose my head to meet her eyes and smirked. 

“Someone has to protect you from yourself.” She pointed her finger at my chest. But she was right. 

I snorted softly.

Clara had no idea how ironic that statement was. If anything, I was the dangerous one. But that was a secret that would stay buried. My mother had made that very clear before she died. The coven had cast her out because of me. Because of what I was. Because of what I could become. She had only known about that place, the compound through Lydia.

My father’s other daughter.  A strange situation I never fully understood. But Lydia had known of Clarence’s compound. And somehow, Eventually, My mother and I ended up there. 

A shout rang out across the training field as one of the young warriors slammed another into the ground. 

That pulled me out of my thoughts once again. 

Clara clapped excitedly. “Oh! Did you see that?!”

I raised a brow. “Yes. Violence. Very impressive.”

“You’re no fun.” She said with a pout.

“I’m plenty of fun.”

“When?” She asked as she raised her brow and with that classic Clara look.

“On rare occasions.”

She laughed. The sound was light, carefree. For a moment I envied her ability to live so easily. To not constantly look over her shoulder. To not feel like danger could appear at any moment. 

The wind shifted again. And suddenly, A strange feeling crawled up the back of my neck. I frowned slightly. Something wasn’t right. Clara was still rambling about warriors and muscles and whatever else had caught her attention. But my focus had shifted. My gaze drifted toward the trees across the training field. Toward the thick line of bushes and shadows near the edge of the forest. The wind rustled the leaves. Branches swayed. Completely normal. Except, My stomach tightened. A subtle prickle of awareness crept across my skin. The same feeling you get when someone is standing too close behind you. I sat up slightly.

“Elara?” Clara asked.

I didn’t answer. My eyes narrowed. The bushes near the edge of the field shifted.

Just barely. Like something had moved through them. 

Clara followed my gaze. “What are you looking at?” She asked. 

But I didn’t answer. I kept staring. The leaves rustled again. Then went still. My pulse slowed instead of racing. I stayed calm. The way my mother had taught me.

“Did you see that?” I murmured.

Clara squinted. “See what?”

The bushes. Something had definitely been there. And for the first time all day, I had the undeniable feeling that someone was watching me.