Pregnant After One Night With The Lycan King
Amelia, an artist struggling to live a life full of dreams and hardships, finds herself caught in an unexpected vortex after a wild night at a masquerade ball. She wakes up with a hazy memory of piercing blue eyes and a powerful presence, without knowing who the man was or what happened? A few weeks later, Amelia's life changed forever when she realized she was pregnant. The baby's father? None other than the Lycan King, a powerful and dangerous creature who rules the hidden world of werewolves. Forced into a world of magic, danger, and forbidden love, Amelia must adapt to a new life. He must navigate the dangerous politics of the Lycan Kingdom, learn to control the new powers that arise within him, and face the wrath of the King's jealous couple. In the midst of this chaos, Amelia must choose: accept her fate as the Lycan King's mate, or fight for her freedom and the life she lives.
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Chapter 3
The Lycan King, whose name Amelia finally learned was Kaelen, led her through a maze of corridors within the castle. The walls were adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of battles, hunts, and ancient rituals, all steeped in a history that felt both fascinating and terrifying.
Amelia, still reeling from the encounter with Kaelen's mate, felt a wave of anxiety wash over her. She was in a world she didn't understand, surrounded by creatures she didn't know, and caught in the middle of a power struggle she couldn't comprehend.
"Are you alright?" Kaelen asked, his voice a low rumble. He seemed to sense her unease, his gaze holding a hint of concern.
Amelia nodded, trying to appear calm. "I'm fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just a little overwhelmed."
"It's understandable," Kaelen said, his voice softening slightly. "This is a lot to take in."
He stopped in front of a heavy wooden door, its surface carved with intricate designs of wolves and moons. "This is where the healers reside," he said. "They will take care of you and the child."
Amelia hesitated. She didn't know anything about Lycan healers, but she knew that she needed help. She was exhausted, her body ached, and she was terrified of what the future held.
"I'm scared," she admitted, her voice trembling.
Kaelen reached out and gently took her hand. "Don't worry," he said, his voice a soothing balm. "The healers will take care of you. And I will be here with you every step of the way."
He opened the door, revealing a room filled with the scent of herbs and incense. A woman sat in a chair, her hair as white as snow, her eyes as blue as the sky. She wore a long white robe, and her hands were covered in intricate tattoos of swirling patterns.
"This is Elara," Kaelen said. "She is the most skilled healer in the Lycan Kingdom."
Amelia felt a surge of hope. Perhaps this woman could help her. Perhaps she could understand what was happening to her body, what was happening to her life.
"Welcome, Amelia," Elara said, her voice soft and calming. "I've been expecting you."
Amelia felt a shiver run down her spine. How did she know her name? And how did she know she was coming?
"Come," Elara said, gesturing towards a chair. "Let's talk."
Amelia sat down, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew that she was about to enter a world she never imagined, a world of magic and mystery, a world where the line between reality and fantasy had blurred.
As Elara began to examine Amelia, she noticed something strange. Amelia's aura, the energy that surrounded her, was unlike anything she had ever seen before. It was powerful, unpredictable, and filled with a raw energy that was both beautiful and terrifying.
"This is... unheard of," Elara whispered, her eyes wide with astonishment.
"What is it?" Kaelen asked, his voice filled with concern.
Elara looked at Amelia, her gaze filled with a mixture of wonder and fear. "Amelia," she said, her voice soft but firm. "You are not just carrying a child. You are carrying a destiny."
Amelia felt a wave of confusion wash over her. Destiny? What did that mean?
"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Elara smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes. "You are more than you think, Amelia," she said. "You are the key to saving this world."
Amelia's eyes widened in shock. Saving the world? What was she talking about?
"I don't understand," Amelia said, her voice filled with confusion.
Elara shook her head, a sad smile on her lips. "You will," she said. "But first, you must learn to control the power within you."
Amelia felt a wave of terror wash over her. She was carrying a child, a child who was destined to save the world. But she was also carrying a power she didn't understand, a power
Amelia felt a wave of terror wash over her. She was carrying a child, a child who was destined to save the world. But she was also carrying a power she didn't understand, a power that could potentially destroy everything.
"Control the power within me?" she asked, her voice trembling. "What power?"
Elara's eyes held a depth of knowledge that made Amelia feel both intrigued and terrified. "The power of the Oracle," she said, her voice a low whisper. "It runs in your blood, Amelia. It's what makes you so special, so powerful."
Amelia felt a chill run down her spine. The Oracle? She had heard whispers of the ancient prophecies, of the Oracle who held the key to the fate of the Lycan Kingdom. But she never imagined that she, a simple artist, would be connected to such a powerful legacy.
"But how?" Amelia asked, her voice barely a whisper. "How can I be the Oracle? I'm just... me."
Elara smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes. "You are more than just 'you', Amelia. You are the descendant of a long line of powerful women, women who held the power to shape the destiny of this world. The power is dormant within you, but it's waiting to be awakened."
Amelia felt a surge of fear mixed with a strange sense of excitement. She had always felt different, a little out of place in her ordinary life. Now, she was discovering that there was something extraordinary about her, something that connected her to a world she never knew existed.
"But what about the child?" Amelia asked, her voice filled with concern. "Is the child...?"
Elara nodded; her eyes filled with a sense of wonder. "The child is part of the prophecy, Amelia. It's the reason why you are here, the reason why you were chosen."
Amelia felt a wave of emotions wash over her: fear, excitement, confusion, and a strange sense of purpose. She was carrying a child, a child who was destined to save the world. And she, a simple artist, was the key to unlocking that destiny.
"What do I need to do?" Amelia asked, her voice filled with determination. "How do I control this power? How do I save the world?"
Elara smiled, a sense of hope flickering in her eyes. "You will learn, Amelia," she said. "You will learn everything you need to know. And you will fulfil your destiny."
As Elara began to explain the ancient prophecies, the secrets of the Oracle lineage, and the dangers that threatened the Lycan Kingdom, Amelia felt a sense of purpose ignite within her. She was no longer just a pregnant woman, a simple artist. She was the Oracle, the chosen one, and she was ready to embrace her destiny.
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9.1
Waking up with a cold, scaly hand wrapped around my throat wasn't the worst part.
The worst part was realizing I'd transmigrated into the body of Terra Mason—the most despised woman in the entire Enclave. She drugged high-level beast-men and forced them into life-binding bio-contracts. She locked an aquatic warrior in a dry basement until his organs failed. She treated the most lethal males in the city like broken toys.
Zev, the Level 6 serpent who's currently choking me, would rather blow up his own heart than spend another day as my slave. His affection metric? Negative ninety. His trust? Zero.
Then my system activates: the Kore AI. It gives me exactly 500 credits, a medical nano-gel, and a recipe for neutralizing the radioactive poison in mutant meat. Real food. In this world, that's worth more than gold.
I save Rhys, the dying aquatic male everyone left for dead. I season a slab of purple mutant steak until Sam, a battle-scarred grizzly shifter, groans at the taste—and his trust points finally tick above zero. When my backstabbing ex-best friend tries to steal my males and destroy me, I don't scream or throw a tantrum like the old Terra. I dismantle her with the truth.
But earning their trust means more than grilling meat. A scorpion swarm ambushes us at midnight. Sam throws himself between me and a stinger the size of my arm. As he stands over the corpse, fur receding from his claws, he stares at me and whispers, "You were testing me."
Yes. I was. Because in this world, the weak don't survive. And I refuse to be weak again.
Four beast-men. Four contracts. One system. And a whole lot of steak. Let this dystopian wasteland know—I'm not the monster they remember. I'm worse. I'm the one who's going to feed them until they'd kill for me.
8.2
For three years, nineteen-year-old Ella Campbell rotted in a freezing psychiatric isolation room.
Her billionaire family didn't visit her once, only pulling her out today to force her to publicly apologize to Ashlyn, the perfect sister who had framed her.
At Ashlyn's glamorous engagement gala, Ella was treated worse than a stray dog and forced to watch her childhood sweetheart propose to her sister.
When Ella showed no jealousy, her brother Ivan dragged her onto a dark balcony and nearly choked her to death.
Her mother didn't even check if Ella was breathing, merely ordering a makeup artist to paint thick concealer over the dark purple handprints on Ella's neck so the family's stock price wouldn't drop.
Standing under the blinding stage lights in a shapeless gray dress, facing three hundred mocking Wall Street executives, Ella was supposed to be the broken, obedient psycho the Campbells needed.
"I am deeply sorry for the pain I caused."
She was supposed to end the apology there and bow to her abusers, but Ella didn't shed a single tear.
"My only regret is that I didn't insist on waiting for the police to arrive that night. I deeply regret that I didn't demand a full, legal toxicology report to prove to everyone exactly what happened."
As the ballroom erupted into suspicious whispers and her paralyzed twin brother finally saw the violent bruises hidden beneath her makeup, Ella's counterattack against the Campbell family officially began.
8.4
I worked three double shifts at the garage just to buy a velvet-boxed cake for my wealthy girlfriend, Arleen.
But when I pushed open the VIP room door, I saw her lover kissing her bare leg.
She didn't push him away. Instead, she laughed and swirled her martini.
"I only forgot Finn because I knew he would stay. He is a poor boy from Queens who follows me around like a loyal dog."
Later that night, her lover intentionally crashed a Porsche to scare me, sending a piece of jagged metal into my skull.
Lying in a growing pool of my own blood, I watched Arleen crawl out of the wreckage.
She didn't even look at me. She threw herself at her uninjured lover, screaming for a medic.
"He just got scraped by a piece of plastic. He is faking it. Deal with Jaquez first!"
When I woke up, I wasn't free. Arleen had locked me in a private hospital wing with 24-hour security, planning to isolate me and keep me as her broken, captive toy forever.
My blind, pathetic devotion finally froze into absolute disgust.
I looked at the heart monitor next to my bed and grabbed an IV needle.
I severed the sensor wire to trigger a flatline, slipped out the fire stairs while the nurses panicked, and burned my identity to ashes.
This time, I was going to disappear to London, build my own empire, and watch hers burn.
9.3
She sells flowers. He spills blood. And he will stop at nothing to make her his. Elena Rossi has always lived quietly among roses and lilies, dreaming of love as gentle as the petals she arranges. She thought she found it in Daniel, the man she planned to marry. Until her wedding day when a dangerous stranger walked into the church and shattered everything. Adrian Volkov is a king in the underworld, a man feared for his ruthlessness and power. But to him, Elena is not just a prize. She is an obsession. A storm he cannot live without. And he will burn the world and anyone in it, to claim her. Torn from the life she knew, Elena resists him, manipulates him, and even runs from him. But Adrian is relentless. His love is dark, his touch both punishing and tender, and his obsession inescapable. When betrayal and bloodshed close in, Elena must face the truth: She doesn't just fear him. She doesn't just hate him. She loves him. Petals and Blood is a haunting, passionate tale of obsession, betrayal, and the dangerous kind of love that blooms in shadows.
9.3
Born into privilege, Eleanor never imagined her life could shatter in a single night. Then her father disappeared with his mistress, her mother fell from a building and slipped into a coma, and everything she once owned turned to dust.
Determined not to ruin Jonathan's future with her family's disgrace, she ended their relationship and became the bride of a man trapped in a vegetative state.
She believed that was the last time their paths would cross. But two years later, Jonathan pinned her in the dark and whispered, "Long time no see, my sister-in-law."
8.6
The Maybach glided through rain, Dante's cold cedar cologne a familiar comfort. Seven years, my life revolved around him, my fingers on his suit cuff, a silent promise. But tonight, our normal shattered with a single phone call.
He answered, speaking rapid Italian – a language he thought I didn't understand. Every word: a death knell. Confirming his engagement to Sofia Moretti, dismissing me as a 'consolation prize.'
Seven years of loyalty vanished. His loving mask back, he left for his fiancée. I stumbled into freezing rain, recalling my foster past. My numb fingers dialed his mother, Isabella, demanding fifty million for my silence. Her insults didn't sting.
The true gut punch: Sofia's Instagram, a prenup on Dante's desk, proudly showing *my* watch, captioned: 'Fourteen days left.' This wasn't their celebration; it was my death sentence.
I wouldn't stay another day in this gilded cage. My old duffel bag, packed, waited. The Australia brochure, a childhood dream, in my pocket. This time, I would live for myself, and they would all pay.