Traded To The Lycan King by MG Wattsons

*Kyra*

The person in the mirror is unrecognizable. A woman dawned with jewels and a gown made of golden embellishments, weaved with skilled hands to highlight every curve. Every time I turn, I reflect every sliver of light, igniting the room in soft yellow hues. My hand glides over my nervous stomach, trying to soothe myself. I look stunning; I feel stunning and yet...

I hate it.

I hate how this gown wasn't one I got to choose, or how the colors make my face look pale and my freckles have been covered with makeup to make me appear, in their words, 'Blemish free'. This dress is every bit dragon and zero bit me. Hell, even little Tiago who sits on the bed behind me is scrunching his nose in distaste. "It's awful." I mutter, and he falls backwards, laughing. "Oh, really?"

I spin and rush toward the little chubby beast, grabbing his ankle gently and tugging him toward me as I tickle his tummy.

"Is that funny, huh? You think it's so funny that I don't like it, huh?" I giggle along with him, the only bright spot in this dark cave of a mountain I am now coerced into calling home.

"Mama," he squeals and I stop, my hands shaking and my mouth dry. He blinks, grabbing my hand with his tiny fingers, grinning wide. "Mama,"

"Oh, no, no, sweetie. It's Ky not Mama." I croak, clearing my throat as I drop to my knees with difficulty, the dress squeezing on my thighs tight, but at least it's distracting from the grip on my chest.

"Is that the first time he has called you that?" Teiran asks, strolling out of the bathroom. He looks smart in this ashen gray suit with gold asymmetrical button crossing from his left hip up to his right shoulder, where the lapel lays down over his chest in the same golden embroidery that matches my gown.

"Yeah, it's just what all kiddos say first when they learn to talk. You know, dada and mama." I smile at the little baby, still weirded out by the random growth spurts that age him anywhere from days to weeks just over night.

"To him you are his mother," Teiran reminds me, Reach out a hand to help me up.

"I am aware of that," I mutter, feeling uneasy at the title. "It's just...strange, to be called that when I know who his real mother is, and his father is the dragon who led to so much suffering."

"We are going to try to fix that," he says, his eyes meeting mine as he smiles and then he lifts my hand and spins me.

"Well, what do you think?" I ask him. He drinks me in, his eyes raking over my dress before he lands on my hair and then my face, a smirk coming over his lips.

"I dare say you have never looked finer, Kyra." He says, offering me a bow before he presses his lips to my hand. I scoff and roll my eyes.

pretend to like each other when there is no one here to see." I remind him

you?" He asks and I roll

I groan, and he chuckles, nodding

all for show for now." He says, "But if, for some reason, it didn't have

gap between us as I gaze up at him, his long hair slicked back in a bun and his eyes telling me he is developing feelings. Teiran is a dark and foreboding prince, but he is kind and yes, he is very much a sexy man. Any woman would be lucky to accept him once they get past his mode of

the promise of safety for my entire kind. This is me missing out on the only chance of having another mate, one that truly completes me. Teiran is giving up nothing and gaining everything. I am giving up everything and gaining

servant enters the room, eyes growing

to interrupt, Prince Teiran, but the King is ready to

turns to me,

I mutter, glad to put distance between us as I reach for the chubby little guy and move him to the couch, placing him in a matching outfit to mine and Tieran's. I stand him up, my lips mashing together to keep from laughing at his pout as he tugs at the pants. "Stop that, Tiago. You look adorable, I promise." I giggle, leaning in, rubbing my nose to his, which always makes him happy. "Now let's go get

than an object about to be carried into the sky by a dragon. The couches are red and plush, a soft-looking blanket over the arms in

resident dickhead who has very clearly lost his mind. Out of the entire time I have been here, he has been the one thing I will never get comfortable with.

on a drink that has a blue flame flickering over

sighs, bored with the nickname I

chose a dog to mate

sweetly to him, plastering on the best fake smile I can. "It would seem

look down, I see a sleeping little baby and exhale in disappointment. So I do as I am told, laying the little guy on the blanket after I place it

his chest as he wraps his arms around my waist. His chins rests on my exposed shoulder as he

be disgusting," He mutters. "You will get to mate after the

in worry and he chuckles low, his

works, father." He says light hearted. "We have chosen each other

king asks, smirking at me

done in hundreds of years, Father." He says,

now to reignite the old

"No." He says plainly.