The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 200

During a brief respite, I find Elara standing by a column, observing the proceedings with a slightly bored expression.

“Not enjoying the festivities?” I ask, joining her.

“Watching you pretend to be interested in all these women is entertaining enough,” she teases. Then her expression turns serious. “You’ve spent a lot of time with Princess Selene.”

“She’s… interesting,” I admit. “Knowledgeable. Politically savvy.”

Elara’s violet eyes–so like my own–search my face. “But does she move you, Alex? Does your heart race when she enters a room? Do you feel the bond our parents describe?”

“No,” I sigh. “But true mate bonds are rare, Elara. Most royal matches aren’t based on such connections.”

“You deserve more than ‘most royals‘ get,” she insists.

Before I can respond, I notice Selene approaching. Elara tenses beside me, almost imperceptibly.

“Prince Alexander,” Selene says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Princess Elara. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all,” I reply. “My sister and I were just discussing the success of the Gala.”

“Indeed, it seems to be going wonderfully.” Selene turns to Elara. “Princess, I’ve been hoping for a chance to continue our conversation from yesterday. Your insights on the palace gardens were fascinating.”

Elara smiles politely, but I feel her hand grip my arm with surprising strength. “Perhaps another time, Princess Selene. I find myself rather tired this evening.”

“Of course,” Selene says smoothly. “Another time.”

When she moves away to speak with one of her advisors, Elara relaxes slightly. “She was asking about my abilities yesterday, Alex. Specific questions about how they manifest, what I can do.”

A warning bell sounds in my mind. “I’ll speak to mother about limiting your interactions with her.”

“I can handle myself,” Elara says with a flash of irritation. “I just want you to be careful. There’s something… calculated about her interest in both of us.”

The evening wears on, a blur of dances and conversations. As tradition dictates, I must dance with each eligible match at least once, showing no obvious preference until the final night of the Gala three days from now. But I find my attention repeatedly drawn to Selene, watching her move through the crowd with effortless grace.

Near midnight, I step onto a balcony for fresh air, the cool night breeze a relief after the heat of the ballroom. To my surprise, Selene joins me moments later.

“Escaping your duties, Prince Alexander?” she asks, a hint of genuine amusement in her voice.

“Briefly,” I admit. “And please, when we’re speaking privately, call me Alexander.”

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“Alexander,” she repeats, testing the name. “And I am Selene, not ‘Princess‘ or ‘Your Highness.“”

She moves closer, and in the moonlight, she looks almost ethereal, her silver blonde hair gleaming. “May I be direct with you?”

“Please.”

“I sense your reluctance about this entire process,” she says. “The Choosing, the political maneuvering. You! want something more authentic.”

I’m surprised by her perception. “Yes.”

“I feel the same way.” She turns to face me fully. “I was raised for this role, trained to be the perfect diplomatic match. But I want more than a political alliance.” Her voice softens. “I want a partner who sees me, not just my title or what I represent.”

The confession feels genuine, a crack in her perfect composure that makes her suddenly more real, more approachable.

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