The Lycan King's Hideous Mage
*** This story has steamy scenes that are not suitable for minors.***
Serra Lore's life is supposed to be ideal and perfect. She graduated top of the class in the Mage Academy. She married the handsome Gideon Dunkerson, the young Lycan King. And now, she is his Luna.
However, on their first wedding anniversary, everything turned upside down. She discovered that her in-laws were just using her. Her husband is cheating on her with a beautiful woman. To make matters worse, she sacrificed her almost passable face and become hideous, in order to protect everyone in the Kingdom.
Now that her daydream has turned into a nightmare, how will she regain the confidence she once had? And to get much needed revenge against her husband?
Gideon Dunkerson thought that his life was perfect. He is the Lycan King-powerful, rich and handsome. The only flaw in his life is that, his Luna does not only look ordinary, but also comes from an ordinary family. Her only saving grace is her excellent magic skills that catapulted her to gain the prestige to become his Luna.
However, he did not expect that his respect for her magic, will turn into lust, and then becomes love. He tried to stop himself from completely falling in love with her, but all was in vain. All his plans to hurt her only cause him a series of pain. He is about to confess his love for her when tragedy struck. She chooses to protect everyone and vanishes from his life.
Her disappearance spirals him into depression and grief, and soon, he is traveling all around the world to search for his Lost Luna. However, when a new competition is held to find a new Luna, Serra reappears. And this time, he vows not to let go of her hand ever again, even if, every time she looks at him, it is with distaste and hatred.
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Chapter 1
I open my eyes in a dimly lit room. The thatched roof shows signs of wear and tear. There are wooden cardboard in between the gaps. I can smell blood, bandage, and that unmistakable tartness of alcohol and a wound that's trying to heal. I scrunch my nose. Even my face is aching.
I touch the bed and blanket that I am lying on. Rough, no silks and velvets. Even the pillow is so hard that I am sure I will have a stiff neck if I sleep too long. I prop myself up by my arm. All my muscles are sore and aching. Understandably, I have depleted my magic until it shaves off part of my lifespan. And all for what? For a Kingdom that refuses to accept me? For a husband who can't love me and even had the gall to cheat on me? And to my in-laws who used me until I am of no use to them anymore!
I am foolish and a fucked-up pushover!
I sit up as I feel my blood boil in anger but I groan as pain registers in my battered body. I doubt my body will still allow me to use my magic at its best. I doubt Sacrarium will still accept a depleted mage who has fallen from grace!
My magic activates, and the wind around me rises. I cough as dust rises around me. The door to the room opens, and a muscular, handsome man comes in.
I snort. Even at the castle, I am surrounded by attractive men, but none ever looked at me with desire! And so I glare at him. I know this man. Caius Liddicoat, a vampire prince of a rival Kingdom. Is he the reason I smell blood?
"Miss Serra, I know you've always been an amazing woman, but I will advise you against using magic when you are still half alive."
I glare at his always impassive face, cold and emotionless like most vampires. He doesn't look or sound upset or angry, just dead severe and matter-of-fact–as though this is some routine business transaction - like buying vegetables or bread or water. As if he cannot see that my life has been destroyed beyond repair!
I pull back my lips and purse my thin mouth into a tight line before responding flatly, "What do you want?"
"What do I want?"
"Don't play coy with me!" I scream at him. "Why did you save me?! For what ends?!"
He forces a smile - a gentle looking one and I hated that gentle smile, especially the ones who come from those who want to kill me! It makes me feel helpless. Weak. Alone. And very much scared!
"We have our reasons," he says as he sits beside my bed. "I also have my reasons."
"Care to share what those reasons are?!"
I take a deep breath as my chest feels constricted. My body aches, and my muscles are sore. The pain radiates through every part of my being. I need something to numb it all. Something to stop this agony and burning pain in both my mind, heart and body.
Caius' eyes fake sympathy when he looks at me. "Well, before we talk about reasons, how about you look at the mirror first?"
I frown as he places the framed glass in front of me. "What is this? Are you going to rub on me that I am not pretty enough for my husband?!"
He gestures for me to take a look again. "Come on, Miss Serra."
I narrow my eyes at him, but I still take a long look in the mirror. A few seconds pass as I try to recognize the face that's looking back at me. Then I gasp and cover my mouth with shock and fear.
"My goddess...!"
I drop the mirror on the bed and with trembling fingers, I touch my face. There are random ridges on it instead of the pale, somewhat-smooth face. There is a massive scar from my cheeks that trails down my neck. My mouth is lopsided, my eyes drooping, eyebrows lacking, and my nose has become too small for my face!
I balk. "What... hap...pened to my... face..." My voice is trembling. I shift my attention to the Prince. "Did you use magic... to... to alter my appearance?!"
"You are still a mage, despite being a weak one in the meantime. So now, I ask you instead, can you feel magic in it?" he asks.
There is none. No traces of magic around me, other than what I just conjured up earlier, and yet, here I am! Not just a weak mage, but a hideous one!
"How?" I whisper out loud. "How can this happen?! Was this your plan all along? To humiliate me? To make fun of me?! Do you enjoy laughing at me?! Especially now that I've been reduced to this state?!"
"I tease you a lot, Miss Serra. But it's never my intention to hurt you."
I catch his shirt and scream at his face. "What am I going to do now?!" I shout at him.
I don't care about decorum anymore! All my frustration and anger come forth as tears run down my cheeks.
"I hate you! I hate everyone!"
He gently touches my face again and strokes the scar on my cheek. His touch hurts more than the burn on my chest from the acid magic that almost killed me.
"I will help you," he says simply. "The Liddicoat Kingdom needs you. I will install you on the throne as the Lycan Queen of Dunkerson Kingdom. Not just a simple Luna. But the Queen herself. Once you are on the throne, you will help me prevent war between our kingdoms. You will be my informant."
"Why should I believe anything coming from your mouth?!"
He takes my hand and says, "Because, Miss Serra, you have no choice but to trust me. You have no one. No husband. No in-laws. No power in your Kingdom. And your family? I doubt they will be able to recognize you."
I sniffle softly. Here I am, a wounded mage who can barely use magic anymore. A hideous mage who has fallen from grace and living off Caius' charity and pity.
"And besides, Miss Serra. Don't you want to take revenge against your husband? The Lycan King Gideon Dunkerson?"
And then, I remember. Lycan King Gideon of Dunkerson Kingdom. A charming, attractive man who made me believe that he actually loved me. Only to find out that he has a paramour on the side! Who would have thought that a Lycan King could betray his Luna like that? He replaced me just because he found someone much prettier!
I hate him! I hate his mother and relatives! And I hate all his women and his advisers! This hate burning inside me... It burns deep in my soul where nothing is left but ashes!
Caius has sadness and sympathy in his eyes. "I don't need your fake sympathy, Caius! I will recuperate, strengthen my magic again, and then, I will take revenge! I will shame them! Do everything in my power to steal the power from their hands! That same power that they love so much that they can even destroy an ordinary mage's life!"
He sighs as he gets up from the bed. "Well, preparation will be in order then."
I meet his eyes and say, "Give me a year. And I will be strong enough to return to the Dunkerson Kingdom," I promise.
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8.4
Seraphina died betrayed. She perished in flames-poisoned by Darius, the fated mate she'd foolishly loved. Her childhood sweetheart, who sacrificed her only to save his mistress.
Reborn five years earlier, Seraphina vows: Never again. No more submissions. No more suffering his cruelty. This time, she'll rewrite her destiny - then she meets Kairos.
The Untamed Alpha King who loathes the mate bond after his own betrayal. Her second-chance mate - a bond that will kill her if she rejects it.
Now, caught between Kairos' relentless pursuit and Darius' desperate attempts to reclaim her, Seraphina faces an impossible choice:
Drown the world in vengeance... or risk her shattered heart on the mate who could either heal her scars or destroy her completely?
8.0
Scarlett Hayes thought marrying James Whitmore would finally make her family see her as more than a burden.
Instead, it destroyed her life.
Framed for crimes she didn't commit, betrayed by the people she trusted most, and sentenced to prison while pregnant, Scarlett lost everything in a single night.
Then came the cruelest blow of all.
After giving birth in chains, she was told her baby had died.
The people responsible believed she would spend the rest of her life rotting behind bars.
They were wrong.
Five years later, Scarlett returns.
No longer the discarded daughter of the Hayes family. No longer the broken woman they left behind.
Now she is Commander Scarlett Hayes-a decorated war hero, the unseen force behind a global intelligence empire, and a woman powerful enough to make governments tremble.
She comes back for one reason only: revenge.
Her ex-husband, the stepsister who stole her life, and the family who buried her alive are about to learn exactly what happens when a woman with nothing left to lose takes back everything they stole.
But as Scarlett tears through the secrets of her past, one truth threatens to change everything-
the child she mourned for years may not be dead.
And the mysterious man connected to the night that changed her life has been watching from the shadows all along.
7.2
I woke up in a lavish bedroom, only to find a man built like a god of war chained to my wall, glaring at me with pure, unadulterated hatred.
A glowing apparition appeared and told me I had died in a car crash and transmigrated into the body of Elara, a tyrant Luna. Worse, the chained man was Ryker, one of my six fated mates whom the original Elara had brutally tortured.
Because of her sadistic crimes-starving them, exiling them, and sending two of them on a suicide mission-my affinity with them was at negative five hundred. The apparition delivered my terrifying death sentence.
"In three days, at the Marking Ceremony, you will be killed by your six mates."
No matter what I did-freeing Ryker, sharing my food, or lifting their brother's exile-they viewed every act of kindness as a sick, twisted trap. They were just waiting for the punchline to my cruel joke, ready to expose me and end my life.
I was just a librarian who organized book clubs and paid my taxes. Why did the Goddess throw me into this doomed vessel to pay for a psychopath's blood debts? How was I supposed to survive when the men destined to love me were actively plotting to rip my throat out?
Cornered by their righteous fury, I realized playing defense wouldn't work. I grabbed a dagger, sliced my own palm over the ceremonial stone, and swore a blood oath to bring their missing brothers home-or initiate a soul-shattering Rejection Ceremony myself.
7.9
Estrella Ward gave five years of her life to her husband, draining her trust fund to save him from bankruptcy and raising his son as her own.
But one night, she woke up in a freezing hotel room, drugged, with a stranger's bite marks on her skin.
Her husband burst through the door with cameras, his vicious family, and her ten-year-old stepson, publicly framing her as a cheating whore.
The horrifying truth soon surfaced: her husband had drugged her himself, selling her body to his Wall Street boss to secure a senior partnership.
Estrella fought back with hidden security footage, blackmailing him into submission after discovering she was pregnant with his boss's child.
But fate dealt a cruel blow. She was diagnosed with aggressive, terminal breast cancer.
She refused to abort the baby to keep her leverage, but the cancer spread too fast.
She died alone in a cold hospital room, her vengeance unfinished, while her husband and his cruel family celebrated.
They thought they had successfully buried her and her secrets forever, escaping unpunished for destroying her life.
But when she gasped for air and opened her eyes again, she wasn't in a cold grave.
She was in a sterile hospital bed, looking at the perfectly manicured hands of Brooklyn Thompson—the notorious, empty-headed socialite everyone despised.
Estrella's soul had survived the abyss.
"You're going to pay for every drop of blood."
She clenched her new fists, the fire of her vengeance burning brighter than ever.
7.4
Bridget, a ruthless twenty-first-century Wall Street analyst, woke up violently coughing up murky lake water in a decaying 1978 slum.
She quickly realized she was trapped in the body of a naive, marginalized teenager who had just committed suicide over a boy's cruel rejection.
The original girl had been mercilessly bullied by a fake rich kid named Kurtis and his cruel followers. They had publicly read her desperate love letters out loud, mocking her as a toad trying to eat swan meat, and simply watched as she threw herself into the freezing water. Now, her impoverished mother was left weeping by the bed, facing catastrophic debt and total social ruin in their small town. Everyone expected the surviving girl to wake up begging and crying for the boy who humiliated her.
Instead, a cold, calculating fury took over Bridget's analytical mind.
"I already died in that lake. That stupid girl is never coming back."
How could anyone throw their life away for a pathetic, vain clown wearing a mass-produced fifty-dollar watch? To Bridget, those uncollected love letters weren't symbols of teenage heartbreak. They were toxic assets. They were reputation landmines left out in the open that threatened her new family's survival.
Locking away the dead girl's weak emotions, Bridget forced her freezing, exhausted body out of the clinic bed. She set a hard three-month deadline to drag this family out of tier-one poverty. But first, she was marching straight to the volunteer camp to liquidate those liabilities and completely destroy the people who drove this body to death.
9.7
Gemma expected the tearing agony of the bullet wound that had just ended her life.
Instead, her trembling fingers met the cool, smooth friction of heavy silk.
She stared into the mirror. Her face was flawless, completely devoid of the jagged scar that had marred her cheek for the last five years.
It was exactly ten years ago. The day of her engagement party to the ruthless billionaire, Brion Hubbard.
In her past life, her "best friend" Katelyn convinced her to run away with a scheming scumbag.
Katelyn claimed Brion was a heartless tyrant who would ruin her. Gemma had foolishly believed those fake tears.
That choice led to her family's bankruptcy, her brutal disfigurement, and ultimately, a fatal bomb explosion.
The only person who tried to save her was Brion, his blood-soaked body shielding hers from the blast.
She even realized too late that the strawberry cream cakes she always made for him were full of dairy.
He wasn't leaving to cheat on her. He was locking himself in a medical bay, fighting fatal allergic shock, just to accept a tiny scrap of her affection.
Gemma had been so incredibly blind. Why did she trust the venomous snakes who destroyed her, while hating the man who died for her?
Hearing Katelyn frantically knocking on the dressing room door, urging her to run away again, a towering hatred surged through Gemma's veins.
This time, she wasn't going to run.
She was going to expose the traitors, take back her family's wealth, and claim the tyrant for herself.