The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 193

Alexander

I jolt awake, sweat soaking through my silk sheets, heart hammering against my ribs like it's trying to escape. The nightmare clings to me, fragments of images still burning behind my eyes—my body tearing in two, one half glowing with healing light, the other consumed by Alpha power, both halves reaching for each other but never connecting.

"Just a dream," I mutter, dragging a hand down my face.

Except it doesn't feel like just a dream. It feels like a warning.

The morning light filters through the royal blue curtains of my chambers, casting long shadows across the polished marble floor. Twenty-four years old, and I still wake up terrified like a pup. Some heir to the Lycan throne I am.

A knock sounds at the door, three quick raps I recognize immediately.

"Enter," I call, pushing myself up against the ornate headboard.

My father's Beta, Garrett, steps in, his face a carefully composed mask that doesn't quite hide his concern. He's been looking at me like that more often lately—like I'm a bomb that might detonate at any moment.

"Your Highness," he says with a slight bow. "The King and Queen request your presence at breakfast. They wish to discuss final arrangements for the Choosing Gala."

I suppress a groan. "Tell them I'll be there shortly."

When he doesn't immediately leave, I raise an eyebrow. "Something else?"

Garrett hesitates, then says, "The Northern delegation arrived early this morning. Princess Selene's party."

My stomach tightens. "They weren't expected until tomorrow."

"Apparently, they were... eager to make your acquaintance."

I'm sure they were. Everyone's eager these days—eager to see if the prophesied heir is everything they've been waiting for, eager to secure alliances before I take the throne, eager to push their daughters and sisters into my path.

"I'll be down in fifteen minutes," I say, dismissing him.

After a quick shower, I dress in formal day clothes—charcoal pants, a crisp white shirt, and a midnight blue jacket with the royal insignia embroidered in silver thread. I catch my reflection in the mirror and pause. My father's dark hair, my mother's violet eyes—physical proof of the dual bloodlines that run through me. The legacy of both Alpha power and healing ability that makes me unique. That makes me dangerous.

When I enter the private dining room, my parents are already seated. My father, King Alaric, commanding even while buttering toast, and my mother, Queen Sage, whose gentle presence somehow fills the room more completely than my father's authority.

"Alexander," my mother says, rising to embrace me. Her eyes, the same unusual violet as mine, search my face. "You look tired."

"I'm fine," I lie, kissing her cheek. "Just busy with preparations."

My father gestures to the chair beside him. "Sit. We need to talk about the Gala."

I take my seat as servants bring in platters of food—enough to satisfy Lycan appetites. "What about it? I thought everything was arranged."

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