“Stay Away From Her” — The Lycan King Growled When He Saw Other Men Looking at His Omega
Part 1
Part 1
“Stay away from her.”
King Víctor de Alcázar’s growl rolled across the Winter Solstice ballroom like thunder trapped beneath stone.
Music stopped.
Crystal glasses trembled.
Every Lycan in the room lowered his gaze.
Governor Octavio Rendón froze with his fingers only inches from Ana Flores’s bare arm.
Víctor was crossing the ballroom.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Golden eyes blazing.
His normally controlled face had transformed into something ancient and dangerous.
Ana could almost feel the king’s wolf beneath his skin.
Rendón forced a smile.
“Your Majesty, I was merely asking Lady Ana for a dance.”
“She said no.”
Ana blinked.
She actually had not answered yet.
Rendón noticed.
“So the lady may speak for herself.”
Víctor stopped directly beside Ana.
“She can.”
His voice lowered.
“But touch her again without permission and you will discover how little patience I have left tonight.”
The entire court went silent.
This was not supposed to happen.
Ana was not really Víctor’s mate.
Six months earlier, she had been an invisible kitchen servant.
Their relationship was a contract.
A performance.
A political lie.
And yet when Víctor placed one protective hand at the small of her back, the heat that rushed through Ana felt painfully real.
“Come with me,” he murmured.
He led her from the ballroom.
The moment the doors closed behind them, Ana pulled away.
“What was that?”
Víctor’s jaw remained tight.
“What was what?”
“You nearly challenged Governor Rendón in front of half the kingdom.”
“He put his hands on you.”
“He touched my arm.”
“He wanted more.”
Ana folded her arms.
“You don’t know that.”
“I smelled it.”
She almost laughed.
“You smelled his intentions?”
“Yes.”
The answer came with such certainty that Ana stopped smiling.
Víctor turned toward the balcony windows.
Snow drifted beyond the glass.
His shoulders were rigid.
Ana studied him.
“This arrangement ends in six weeks.”
“I know.”
“Then perhaps you should remember that I am not actually yours.”
His entire body went still.
The silence stretched.
Finally he said, “I remember.”
But his voice sounded like a man who hated the fact.
Three years earlier, Ana had entered Silver Night Castle with nothing except a worn bag and a dying brother.
Tomás had been twelve when the Feral Plague began consuming him.
The sickness came in waves.
Fever.
Tremors.
Moments when his eyes became unfamiliar and his wolf seemed to fight against his human mind.
Royal healers had no cure.
Ana refused to accept that.
She worked in the kitchens because kitchens connected to storerooms, storerooms connected to healers, and healers connected to knowledge.
At night she studied stolen medical notes.
During the day she scrubbed floors.
And every morning she coated herself with oak moss, sage ash and bitter oils.
Those herbs concealed what she truly was.
A rare True Omega.
Her mother had warned her never to reveal it.
True Omega blood could heal wounds, strengthen weakened bonds and interact with ancient Lycan magic.
It could also make a woman extraordinarily valuable to men who cared more about power than freedom.
Ana’s mother had disappeared protecting that secret.
Ana had no intention of sharing her fate.
Then Víctor chose her for his ridiculous fake-mate arrangement.
He wanted a woman forgettable enough that the court would never believe the relationship could become politically dangerous.
Ana almost admired the irony.
He selected the one woman who could potentially change the entire kingdom.
The agreement had initially been simple.
Six months pretending to be his destined mate.
In return, Ana received access to the royal medical library, treatment for Tomás and enough money to build a modest home afterward.
Then everything became complicated.
Ana discovered that Víctor was not the monster court gossip described.
He was exhausted.
Lonely.
Buried beneath seven years of responsibility.
The kingdom’s magical barrier was weakening because the Feral Plague was somehow poisoning the land itself.
Víctor had been secretly using his own Alpha energy to reinforce it.
It was slowly killing him.
Ana began adding restorative herbs to his wine.
He recovered.
He never knew why.
Until an ambush in White Thorn Valley nearly ended both their lives.
Víctor had been wounded.
Ana used her blood to heal him.
And Víctor learned the truth.
True Omega.
That night inside a snowbound cave, their fake relationship almost became something irreversible.
“If I kiss you,” he had warned, “this stops being business.”
Ana had whispered, “Who said I’m still pretending?”
They kissed.
Then fear returned.
Víctor feared becoming dependent on her.
Ana feared becoming owned by him.
So neither spoke about what had happened.
Until tonight.
Until Rendón.
Until Víctor’s wolf finally refused to pretend.
Ana looked at him now.
“Why are you jealous?”
“I am not.”
“Víctor.”
He turned.
She rarely used his name when they were outside private chambers.
Something about hearing it now softened his expression.
“You want the truth?”
“Yes.”
“I wanted to break Rendón’s hand.”
Ana swallowed.
“That is not reassuring.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
His eyes dropped toward her neck.
The masking herbs were fading.
Her natural scent filled the corridor.
Jasmine.
Rain.
Warm earth.
Víctor inhaled.
Then closed his eyes briefly.
“My wolf recognizes you.”
Ana’s heartbeat changed.
“As what?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer frightened her more than anything else.
Before she could speak, footsteps approached.
Counselor Emilio Salas appeared.
His face was pale.
“Your Majesty.”
Víctor instantly became king again.
“What happened?”
Salas looked at Ana, hesitated, then continued.
“Tomás Flores collapsed in the infirmary.”
Ana stopped breathing.
“What?”
“The plague entered another phase.”
She ran.
Víctor followed.
They found Tomás restrained on a healing bed.
The fifteen-year-old boy thrashed violently.
Black veins crawled beneath his skin.
His eyes flashed between human brown and feral silver.
“Ana!” one healer shouted. “Stay back!”
“Tomás!”
Her brother turned toward her.
For one terrible second, recognition vanished.
Then his expression softened.
“Ana…”
His voice was barely human.
“I can hear them.”
“Hear who?”
“The others.”
Víctor moved closer.
“What others?”
Tomás screamed.
The candles in the room went out.
Every Lycan in the infirmary staggered as a wave of Alpha pressure rolled through the chamber.
Ana stared at her brother.
Tomás was not an Alpha.
He had never even shifted properly.
Yet the magical barrier outside the castle suddenly flashed red across the night sky.
Salas looked through the window.
“Something is attacking the barrier.”
Tomás grabbed Ana’s wrist.
His eyes turned completely silver.
“It isn’t a plague.”
Ana froze.
“What?”
“They’re calling us.”
“Who?”
Tomás began shaking violently.
Then he whispered one name.
“Rendón.”
Ana looked toward Víctor.
The king’s expression became lethal.
Tomás’s fingers tightened around hers.
“He knows what you are.”
Ana’s blood ran cold.
“How?”
Tomás gasped.
“He’s been waiting for your scent to return.”
At that exact moment, bells exploded throughout Silver Night Castle.
A guard burst through the doors.
“Your Majesty!”
Víctor turned.
“What?”
“The western barrier has fallen.”
Another explosion shook the castle.
Through the window, Ana saw shapes moving across the snow.
Hundreds of them.
Lycans with glowing silver eyes.
Feral.
But organized.
And at their head rode Governor Octavio Rendón.
Víctor drew his sword.
Ana stared at the man who only minutes earlier had tried to touch her in the ballroom.
Now Rendón stopped outside the castle gates, lifted his face toward the tower where Ana stood and smiled.
Then his voice carried unnaturally through the night.
“Give me the True Omega, Víctor…”
His eyes flashed silver.
“…and I’ll give you back your kingdom.”
