The Lycan King's Wrong Obsession novel Sorin Carter (by Circeleari) novel Chapter 26

Chapter 26

SORIN

“You will head the preparations for the Full Moon Ritual.”

The head maid’s words still buzz in my skull hours later.

Now, here I am–standing in front of a dozen wide–eyed Omegas in one of the lower halls of the palace, their thin shoulders hunched, their hands wringing each other’s sleeves though I’m about to swing an axe. The heavy wooden doors behind me slam shut, echoing through the stone room.

Their whispers crawl across the space.

“Why her?”

“She’s new-”

“At least it’s not Camila again…

That last one hits as a match striking flint. Their relief is quiet but it’s there, blooming in the corners of their tired faces. I’m pretty sure no one here wants to serve that sucking–headed bitch.

I draw in a breath and cross my arms, letting the silence hang until they all look at me. “I don’t know why the head maid picked me,” I start, voice steady even though I can feel the heaviness of their eyes like lead on my skin. “But I’ll tell you this-“I pause, jaw clenching. “While I’m the one in charge, the Luna’s torture ends. No more games. No more starving. You’ll eat meat again. You’ll feel your wolves again. That’s my word.”

Gasps ripple through them, whispers tumbling over each other. A few eyes brighten, disbelief flickering into something dangerous–hope.

They are hoping. That is more than enough.

One boy, no older than nineteen, steps forward. His bones look sharper than his face. “You’d really do that for us? Even if it gets you whipped?”

I smirk, shaking my head. “I’ve had worse than whips, kid.” My fingers twitch at the memory of iron cuffs and Wade’s dungeon, but I shove it down. “So yeah. I’ll do it. You deserve better than what you’ve been fed.”

Their eyes widen, a tremor of excitement passing through them. I catch Tully’s grin in the back, the only one not shocked because she already knows my brand of recklessness.

But Roslin isn’t here. My gaze sweeps the room again, a gnawing thought sinking in. She’s always hovering near Camila. Maybe she’s with her now. Good. I don’t need her poison dripping in my ear today.

I exhale through my nose and turn to the table in front of me. The map sprawls across it like a beast waiting to be tamed–a detailed floorplan of the Imperial Palace, marked in black ink, corners held down by candlesticks. I flatten my palms against it.

“Alright, I mutter. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”

Tully leans over beside me, her finger tracing across the diagram. “The Full Moon Ritual is simple,” she explains, her voice hushed but quick. “The Alpha King stands at the center of the courtyard, where the moonlight hits strongest. He’s meant to have his mate beside him, to receive the Goddess‘ blessing when the moon is at its peak.”

Her finger slides to the giant square marking the courtyard.

My chest pulls tight. His mate.

The words scrape down my ribs, leaving bruises behind. Because I know exactly who that was supposed to be.

Me.

He has always told me I’m his mate despite me not feeling anything over it. I was Wade’s betrothed and I had no intention of being his. But now that it comes to this…

No, Sorin. You’d be like a leech, sucking on men that’s available. I don’t want to do that to Alaric. No matter the kind of bastard he was.

He even told his pack he’d bring her–that he’d bring me–by his side this year. That his letters weren’t in vain. And gods, he waited. He promised them.

And instead, what did he get? Empty hands and a kingdom watching him drown in disappointment.

I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste iron. No. Don’t go there. Not now.

Maybe I could just do something to help him find his mate instead of wallowing in pity. That’s the least I could do to help without having him see me. He deserves more than running after a woman who’s rejected her countless times.

I shove the thought down and straighten. “And you’ve all been doing the same thing every year?” I ask, my tone sharper than intended.

Heads nod around the room. “Always the same,” a woman mutters, her voice cracking. “Camila insisted on tradition.”

Of course she did. Tradition is the easiest leash to tighten.

A smirk creeps onto my lips, sharp and reckless. I rest both hands on the map and lift my head, letting my voice slice clean through the silence.

“Then let’s do something different.”

***

The marketplace inside the Imperial Pack is alive in a way that makes my chest tight with both awe and discomfort. Stalls line the cobblestone paths, colorful fabrics fluttering in the breeze, spices burning the back of my nose as smoke curls out of iron pans, and voices–so many voices–layering on top of each other until it sounds like one endless conversation.

Leather, sweat, firewood, perfume–it’s overwhelming, and I have to blink fast to keep from getting dizzy.

Behind me, the two Omegas trail like shadows. Tully, as usual, is bouncing with questions, while Marg looks like she’d rather be chewing glass than stuck with us.

“You’re really serious about this?” Tully pipes up, weaving through a group of merchants carrying bundles of herbs. “The Full Moon Ritual as a masked ceremony? You actually think that’s a good idea?”

I glance at her over my shoulder, suppressing a grin. “Different doesn’t mean bad. Besides, wouldn’t it be better if it wasn’t the same stiff–ass routine every year? No titles, no hierarchy. Just one night where everyone can breathe without knowing their place.”

Marg scoffs, long and sharp. “Or one night where you get your head cut off because you thought it’d be fun to sit beside him.”

“Him?” I arch a brow, even though I know damn well who she means.

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t play dumb. The King. As handsome as he is terrifying. That man could slit your throat and not even blink.”

I actually laugh, shaking my head. “The Omegas love the idea. For once, they’d get to blend in with the nobles instead of serving them wine. You can’t tell me that isn’t tempting.”

“Tempting to get killed,” Marg mutters under her breath.

Tully, sweet, naïve Tully, claps her hands together. “I’m not interested in the Alpha King, anyway. He’s drowning himself in women already. I thought he was supposed to be loyal, you know? Didn’t he claim to love the woman he’s sending letters to?”

The words hit me harder than I expect, like a pebble striking an already cracked window. My lips twitch into a small, sad smile before I can stop it. “Everyone has needs,” I say simply, brushing the edge of a stall with my fingers as we pass. The rough wood catches on my skin, grounding me.

Before either of them can fire back, the headmaid stumbles into view, carrying a silver tray stacked high with soaps and glass bottles filled with oils. Her face is pale, and she’s coughing so hard her chest shakes with it.

“Careful,” I murmur, stepping in to steady the tray before it crashes to the ground. “You shouldn’t be carrying this around. Let us take it.”

Her eyes are sharp, smug, like she knows I won’t refuse. My throat dries, but I move as every step I take is being weighed and measured by the red–eyed predator sitting in the middle of it all.

The Alpha King doesn’t move. He sits there in the steaming water as some carved statue out of obsidian- broad shoulders glistening with droplets, his chest rising steady, powerful. His gaze is empty, though. Dead. No matter how many hands skim over him, no matter how many painted mouths kiss his skin.

So this is what Tully meant, he really is surrounded by women.

I set the soap down by the edge of the tub, close enough for him to reach but far enough for me to bolt if I have to. My pulse hammers in my ears, loud and uneven.

The women purr and giggle as if it’s all natural to worship him like he’s some god. They run their tongues across his chest, down his arms, across his jaw. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even seem human.

Finally, one of them laughs under her breath, continuing their conversation. “Why are you so desperate to find her?” she asks, the word her dripping with disdain. “You could have the entire kingdom begging for you. She’s nothing.”

The room goes silent. Steam curls up between us, but the air turns sharp enough to cut skin.

Alaric’s hand snaps up. In one motion, he shoves the woman off him, her squeal echoing as she crashes against the tiled floor. The others freeze, their painted smiles trembling at the edges.

Then his voice comes, low and lethal. “Her words alone,” he says, amber eyes burning, “without touching me… could get me off more than your tongues ever will.”

My knees weaken. My stomach twists, heat flooding places I don’t want it to. Fuck.

He doesn’t look at me yet I know every word is a lash meant for me, even if his back is still turned.

“Leave,” he orders.

No hesitation. The women scramble, hair sticking to damp skin, their perfume sour in the steam. Their footsteps scatter like rats until the chamber feels wider, emptier.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Relief crashes through me, raw and dizzying. Well, I guess that woman really pushed his buttons. Time to leave.

I take a step toward the door.

“Not the Omega.” I quickly freeze.

His voice booms, final, no room for argument. My head jerks up. He still hasn’t turned around, water dripping down his back like molten silver, muscles flexing as he rests his arms on the edge of the tub.

“She stays.”

What?

My mouth dries, my palms slick. The women bump into me on their way out, sneering, shoving past with muttered curses under their breath.One of them deliberately bumps me hard, her whisper venomous, “Enjoy it while it lasts, whore.”

What the fuck just happened?

The heavy door slams shut behind them.

I’m left staring at his back. At the man whose very presence makes my skin feel too tight, whose command just tethered me to him in front of everyone.

“You’ll be bathing me instead,” Alaric says.

And that’s when my entire world stutters to a halt.