The King’s Unclaimed Mate(BL)

The palace was restless.

Word had spread—The King was searching for someone.

A beauty unlike any other.

A vision of wet black hair, pale, glistening skin, and crimson eyes that burned into his soul. A body half-submerged in moonlit water, delicate yet untouchable.

The River Beauty.

The King had seen him once—and once was not enough.

Now, nothing could satisfy him.

His mind was consumed. His body burned.

The scent of his palace concubines sickened him. Their eager hands disgusted him. No amount of power, no battle, no kingdom could soothe the raw ache clawing through his veins.

He needed him.

And he would have him.

---

The King's Desperation

Sitting in the dim glow of his chamber, the King leaned back against the silk-covered pillows, his robe hanging open, his chest rising and falling too fast, too hard.

He could still see him.

The way water clung to his bare skin, drops trailing down the curve of his collarbone, gliding over his chest. The softness of his lips, parted in shock. The wide, unguarded look in his crimson eyes—before he turned and ran.

The memory tortured him.

It made him hard.

His fingers clenched, his breath ragged as he exhaled through his nose. It had been days since he saw him, yet the hunger only grew stronger.

He needed relief.

He needed something.

A sharp knock.

"Your Majesty, the concubine is here."

The King barely remembered summoning him, but now he was here, and the ache in his body was unbearable.

"Enter," he ordered, his voice low, rough.

The doors creaked open, and a single omega stepped inside.

He was beautiful—trained, obedient, willing. Dressed in sheer silk, golden ornaments dangling from his wrists, his scent thick with submission. He knelt before the King, bowing his head.

"You summoned me, Your Majesty?"

The King said nothing. His gaze raked over the omega's body—golden skin, soft curves, delicate hands trembling slightly as he waited for the King's touch.

It should have been enough.

It wasn't.

But his body craved touch. Any touch.

"Strip," he commanded.

The omega obeyed instantly. Silk slid from his shoulders, pooling at his feet, baring his heated skin. He moved closer, crawling into the King's lap, hands reaching, desperate to please.

Soft lips pressed to his chest, a tongue flicking out to taste him, hands smoothing over the hard planes of his stomach, his thighs. The omega's breath came in short, needy gasps as he ground his hips against him.

The King let it happen.

Let the omega touch him, kiss him, beg for him.

But in his mind, it wasn't him.

It was his river beauty.

Wet hair. Crimson eyes. A body trembling not from desire—but from fear.

The thought sent a sharp, dark rush through him.

His fingers dug into the omega's hips, pulling him down harder. The omega gasped, arching against him, but it still wasn't enough.

"Your Majesty—"

He grabbed the omega's wrists, pinning him beneath him, forcing his body into submission. The omega moaned beneath him, but the sound only made the frustration worse.

Wrong.

His jaw clenched.

Wrong.

His body tensed.

He opened his eyes.

And saw—

Not crimson eyes. Not wet black hair. Not his river beauty, trembling and vulnerable beneath him.

His stomach twisted.

His need vanished.

With a growl, the King shoved the omega away, rising to his feet, adjusting his robe in pure, raw frustration.

"Your Majesty—?" the omega panted, confused, aching for more.

"Get out," the King said coldly, his voice sharp, his body tense with unsatisfied hunger.

The omega flinched, startled by the sudden dismissal, but didn't dare question him. He gathered his clothes, bowing before hurriedly leaving.

The chamber fell silent.

The King stood still, his body burning, his blood boiling.

Nothing could satisfy him.

No one else could touch him.

His fingers curled into fists. His breath came ragged and uneven.

This wasn't desire anymore.

It was something worse.

A hunger.

A craving.

A deep, violent, unbearable obsession.

His river beauty thought he could run. Thought he could disappear.

He was wrong.

The King would find him. No matter what it took.

And when he did—

He would never let him go.