The Lycan Monarch’s Voluptuous Mate

"Eighteen," I muttered to the cracked ceiling of the basement. "Still alive. Barely."

I sat up, the springs of the cot groaning under my weight. My knees popped. A familiar dull ache settled in my lower back. Five years of sleeping on a saggy mattress in a damp bunker did that to a body. I didn't mind the cold as much as I minded the silence.

Today was the day. The day my wolf was supposed to wake up. In our world, a wolf meant power, or at least a chance to fight back. I needed that chance. Ever since my father was executed for treason, Alpha Gideon had kept me around like a piece of cursed furniture. A reminder to the rest of the Moonlake Crest pack of what happens when you cross him.

I pulled on the only thing that fit me properly—a faded, oversized gray sweater that swallowed my curves, paired with some worn-out jeans. My size was always a topic of conversation at the pack house dinner table. “Serenity’s eating for three again,” Gideon’s wife, Vanessa, loved to whisper. I’d learned to swallow the comments along with the cold leftovers they threw my way.

Except for Tristan.

Tristan was Gideon’s son, the golden heir, and the only person in this house who didn't look at my plus-size frame like it was a personal insult. For two years, we’d been meeting in secret. He brought me real food, sometimes still warm from the pack kitchen. He kissed my forehead and told me I was beautiful when the rest of the world told me I was an eyesore.

“When I take over, Serenity,” he’d whispered into my neck last week. “You’ll be my Luna. We just have to play the game until then.”

I held onto those words like a lifeline. I climbed the wooden stairs to the main house, ready to start my daily chores. Usually, by seven in the morning, the kitchen was empty and cold.

Not today.

The dining table was packed. The smell of frying bacon and fresh coffee hit me, thick enough to choke on. Gideon sat at the head, his eyes tracking me the moment I crossed the threshold. Vanessa was beside him, her perfectly manicured fingers wrapped around a tea cup. Even their daughter, Sienna, was there, staring at her phone with a nasty little smirk.

"Ah, the birthday girl," Gideon boomed. His voice carried that false, heavy warmth he usually reserved for pack ceremonies. "Come. Sit down, Serenity."

My stomach did a slow, heavy roll. "I have the laundry to do, Alpha."

"The laundry can wait," Vanessa said. She actually smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Today is special. You are eighteen. Sit."

She pointed to an empty chair at the far end of the table. I hesitated, then walked over and pulled it out. The wood scraped loudly against the tile. As I sat, I looked down the table for Tristan.

He was sitting near his father, staring intently at his plate. He wouldn't look up. He was tearing a piece of toast into tiny, neat squares, his knuckles white.

A cold drop of sweat slid down my spine. "What's going on?" I asked. My voice was flatter than I intended, but I couldn't help it. Fear makes you blunt.

Gideon chuckled, a dry, raspy sound. "Still as suspicious as your father was. Fine. Let’s not waste time with small talk. You know about the treaty with the Lycan King?"

"Everyone does," I said. "The border packs send their daughters to the royal court as... hostages. Concubines."

"Exactly," Gideon said, leaning forward. "To ensure our loyalty. The King’s envoy arrives tomorrow to collect our contribution. And you, Serenity, are going to represent Moonlake Crest."

The air left my lungs in one sharp gasp. I stared at him. "The treaty says the Alpha's oldest daughter goes. That's Sienna."

"Sienna has a future here," Vanessa snapped, her voice losing its fake warmth instantly. "She is delicate. She wouldn't last a week in that savage court. You, however... you are sturdy. You have your father's blood. And frankly, we have fed and housed you for five years. It's time you paid your debt."

Sturdy. The word felt like a slap. I looked at Tristan. My heart was hammering against my ribs, a wild, frantic rhythm. Speak up, I thought. Tell them. Tell them you love me. Tell them we are together.

Tristan kept tearing his bread. One piece. Two. Three.

"Tristan," I whispered.

He finally looked up. His eyes were wide, wet, and absolutely empty of courage. He looked like a dog waiting to be kicked. He didn't say a word.

"It is decided," Gideon said, slamming his hand on the table. The cups rattled. "The paperwork is signed. You leave at dawn tomorrow. Go pack whatever fits in a single bag."

I didn't cry. I didn't give them the satisfaction. I stood up, the chair scraping again, and walked out of the room. My legs felt like lead, but I kept my chin up until I hit the hallway.

I didn't go to my basement. I waited by the back exit of the kitchen. Ten minutes later, the door swung open, and Tristan stepped out, looking around nervously. When he saw me standing in the shadow of the water tank, he flinched.

"Serenity," he breathed, reaching for my hands. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know he was going to do it today—"

"You knew," I cut him off. My voice was steady, but inside, everything was breaking. "How long have you known?"

"My dad... he threatened to disown me," Tristan whispered, looking everywhere but at my face. "He said if I didn't agree, he'd send Sienna. She's my sister, Serenity. I couldn't let her go to that monster."

"So you let them send me instead." I stepped closer to him. I was bigger than him, broader, and right now, I felt like a mountain he was trying to climb over. "The girl you promised to make your Luna. The girl you said you loved."

"I do love you!" He grabbed my upper arms, his grip tight, almost desperate. "But my hands are tied. Just go. Do what my dad says. If the Lycan King rejects you—and let's face it, Serenity, you aren't exactly his type—he'll send you back. When you come back, I’ll find a way to keep you. I swear."

I looked at his face. Truly looked at it. The soft jawline, the pretty eyes, the lack of any real spine. He wasn't a protector. He was a coward who liked having a secret admirer in the basement to boost his ego.

"You're a coward, Tristan," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

I pulled away from his grip. He let me go. He didn't even try to hold on. He just muttered another "I'm sorry" and jogged toward the garage, probably to go clear his conscience with a drive.

I stood there, the cold morning air biting through my thin sweater.

"Brave of you," a voice sneered from the kitchen door.

Sienna stood there, leaning against the frame, a cruel, satisfied grin on her face. She looked at me, her eyes sweeping over my worn sweater and my wide hips with obvious disgust.

"What do you want, Sienna?" I asked, my voice dry.

"Just wanted to give you a reality check," she said, tossing a small slip of paper at my feet. "Before you go off pretending you're some tragic heroine in a romance novel."

I didn't pick it up. "What is that?"

"An address in the next town over," Sienna said, crossing her arms. "That's Emily’s house. Tristan’s fiancée. They’ve been engaged for six months. My dad is announcing it at the solstice ball next week."

The ground felt like it was shifting under my boots. "You're lying."

"Go see for yourself if you don't believe me," Sienna laughed, turning back toward the house. "But honestly, Serenity? Look at yourself. Did you really think the future Alpha of this pack was going to marry a traitor's fat, basement-dwelling daughter? You were a charity case. And now, you're our ticket to safety. Have fun with the King."

She slammed the door shut.

I stood in the dirt, the wind whipping my hair across my face. I looked down at the slip of paper.

My chest felt tight, like someone was squeezing my lungs. But beneath the pain, something else was stirring. A low, angry rumble in the back of my mind.

My wolf was waking up. And she was absolutely furious.