My Unwanted Lycan Mate

First Meeting “In her smile, I see something more beautiful than the stars.” King Miller was the Lycan king who hated werewolves and wanted nothing to do with them. He was a man-w***e who had slept with anything hidden beneath a skirt. He ruled his kingdom with strict rules and was well known across the pack for his supremacy and aggressive actions against anyone who entered his domain without his permission. He despised humans the most since his birth mother was one. **Mia:** She was an alpha werewolf, with her brother as the werewolf king. She was deeply in love with her brother’s Beta, Kelly. When she met her mate, the Lycan king, he hated her, believing it would be best to sever ties with her by cutting her throat. She hated him as much as he hated her. “King Miller-Jones, King of the Cold Blood Pack, I, Mia Divas, reject you as my mate and king.” “I, King Miller-Jones, refuse your rejection,” he roared. --- **Preliminary** ‘Mate! Mate! Mate.’ I sat up when I heard my wolf chant in my head. ‘What?’ I snarled at my happy, howling wolf. ‘Mate! He’s here.’ She kept pestering me. ‘Our mate is here, Mia.’ ‘No, I don’t need a mate, and I refuse to be submissive or timid around anyone. Plus, I’m in love with my brother’s beta, Kelly. I just need to confess my feelings to him, and I won’t end up with an inappropriate mate!’ ‘No, I want my mate!’ she growled. ‘You will accept him, not Kelly.’ ‘You don’t tell me what to do, wolf.’ Time halted. My lungs stopped inhaling and exhaling. Everything ceased to exist. Apart from this magnificent man standing in front of me, I couldn’t feel or sense anything else. He was not too beautiful, not too feminine. He was the embodiment of virility. His messy silver hair fell over his forehead. He was the tallest man I’d ever met. He had a tremendously muscular body, which drove my wolf nuts. He would be defined as a perfect being. He was strong, powerful, and beautiful. ‘Mate, mate! Mate.’ My wolf whimpered. His ocean-blue eyes were fixed on me, and I suddenly felt a rush of wetness between my legs. His perfect lips enticed me for a kiss, even though I despised how I was feeling at that moment. I blurted out, “Fuck.” I had to run. I didn’t need a mate. My claws sank into the damp soil as I pushed myself to run as fast as I could. I fled from him, feeling exhausted, both physically and mentally, but my only focus was to escape. Despite my wolf weakening and struggling for breath, I continued running. Eventually, my wolf gave in, and I collapsed in the woods, tears streaming down my face at the thought of how my life would change if my mate caught me. I looked up, meeting his burning gaze. --- **Monarch Miller-Jones** As I wandered through the sparse trees in town, I suddenly caught a whiff of the most intoxicating and alluring scent I had ever encountered. I couldn’t quite describe the aroma, but it was so captivating that it made my mouth water. My Lycan was howling desperately inside my head, dancing and shrieking happily. Then I heard my Lycan say a word—one word I loathed the most. ‘MATE’ Oh no, I’ve met my mate. She’s a timid wolf. I despised the thought of having a mate—a wolf who would weaken me, a mate who would share my throne. Accepting a mate meant I couldn’t maintain my harem of whores. I didn’t want a woman I would be emotionally connected to. I was satisfied with my whores, as they fulfilled my every desire and lust. I needed to send her off. I was the strongest monarch. Accepting and claiming the weak she-wolf as my mate would be disastrous. It would put a dent in my prestige. I do not need a weak she-wolf, and I would never accept her. She must die. Lycanthropy comes from the species of werewolf. They couldn’t shift into wolves because they were more in tune with their human side. Lycans were half-werewolf and half-human. They can grow teeth and claws, have excellent eyesight, and heal as werewolves do. They do not shift into wolves.