The King’s Unclaimed Mate(BL)

The journey to Evermere had stretched endlessly, but the Alpha King felt nothing—no weariness, no anticipation. He was an immovable force, a ruler with the strength of a god. Yet, despite his unyielding might, he found no satisfaction in the road that lay before him.

A mate. A marriage. A bond he neither craved nor desired.

As they neared Evermere's borders, the King's army halted at the edge of a dense, ancient forest, where the air was thick with the intoxicating scent of damp earth and the heavy sweetness of blooming nightshade. The atmosphere was charged with something ancient, something primal.

"Your Majesty, allow us to accompany you," one of his generals spoke, his voice hesitant.

"No," the King replied, his tone sharp and final.

He loathed the constant presence of others. He needed no protection, and he despised the suffocating weight of their company. The hunt was his only escape—the one thing that stirred him, that made his pulse race with something far more exhilarating than duty.

And so, with quiet grace, he slipped into the forest, his form vanishing into the shadowed embrace of the trees.

The world around him seemed to hum with life—wind stirring the leaves, the soft murmur of distant creatures hidden in the underbrush—but his senses, honed beyond mortal limits, caught something else. Something delicate, beckoning. A distant sound, faint yet intoxicating.

Water.

A river.

Without thought, his feet carried him toward it, as though the river itself had called to him, its allure drawing him in like a siren's song.

And then, he saw him.

His breath caught in his throat, and time seemed to slow.

At the edge of the river, bathed in the molten glow of the setting sun, stood the most breathtaking creature the King had ever laid eyes upon.

He was unlike anything the King had ever seen—unlike anyone.

Dark, silken hair tumbled down the stranger's back, each strand dark as midnight, clinging to his skin, damp with the cool kiss of water. The light caught in his hair, sending shards of liquid gold scattering across the space, as if the very air shimmered with his presence.

His skin was pale—ethereal, luminous—and shimmered beneath the dying sunlight, droplets of water clinging to his body, catching the light like diamonds scattered on fresh snow.

He was divine. A vision of pure, untamed beauty.

Gold adorned him—thin, delicate chains resting against his collarbone, an intricate choker that caressed his throat like a lover's touch, bracelets draped around his slender wrists. His ears were pierced with fine gems, their soft glint nearly lost beneath the damp curls that framed his face. His robes—if they could even be called such—were little more than sheer, dripping fabric, clinging to his lithe form like a lover's caress, tracing every curve, every dip of his body in sensual, translucent temptation.

The King's throat tightened, his mouth dry.

His golden eyes devoured the stranger's form, tracing the line of his throat, the rise of his collarbones, before dipping lower to the bare expanse of his chest. The river licked at his waist, and the high slit of his robes revealed toned, long thighs—smooth and kissed by the last rays of the sun. The damp fabric clung to his skin in the most intimate way, sculpting his body like an artist's masterpiece. It was not vulgar—it was nothing short of exquisite.

The stranger lifted his arms, his fingers tangling in his wet hair, wringing out the water in slow, languid motions. The sight—the simple act, effortless and unguarded—was the most sensual thing the King had ever witnessed. It made his blood burn, his pulse quicken, as if the very air around them had become thick with desire.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears.

For years, the King had remained untouched by the advances of countless Omegas, unshaken by beauty, unmoved by the delicate bodies that had bared themselves to him. Yet now, in the heart of this unfamiliar forest, hidden behind the trees, he watched in stunned silence, unwilling to break the enchantment of the moment.

His body, trained in the art of control, burned with something he had never known.

Desire.

He clenched his jaw, his fingers curling into fists as he fought to retain control over the primal urges awakening within him.

Who was he?

As if answering the question that burned in his mind, the stranger stilled, his head tilting slightly as his crimson eyes—brilliant, sharp, and dangerously alluring—flickered toward the trees. His lips parted, a breath of curiosity slipping past them.

The King's breath caught in his throat.

But before their gazes could meet—

"Your Majesty!"

The King snapped his head toward the approaching voices, his heart lurching in his chest.

When he turned back—

Gone.

The river remained undisturbed, the mist curling lazily over its surface, as if cradling a secret. The vision—the otherworldly beauty—had vanished, swallowed by the twilight, leaving nothing behind but the echoes of its fleeting presence.

The King stood motionless, his chest rising and falling with controlled breath.

For the first time in his life, he felt it.

An ache. A hunger.

Something he had never believed himself capable of feeling.

And it terrified him.

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