Alpha’s Thirteenth Bride

My brother Marcus's best friend, Lucian Rothwell, was injected with a forced heat inducer during a border mission.

I loved him for years. I'd do anything to save him—even if it meant becoming his remedy.

The next morning, his childhood sweetheart, Araya Frostclaw, burst into the room, tears streaming down her face.

"Lucian, I'm doomed! The royal lottery selected me to be the Alpha Heir's bride!"

"The Alpha Heir, Draven Montclair—he's a monster! He kills his brides on their wedding night! All twelve women who tried to bond with him died. They say his bloodline is too powerful, that he loses control during the marking and destroys his mate! I don't want to die. Please, marry me instead."

But Lucian had already marked me. The Rothwell family law was absolute: one Alpha, one mate. He could only marry me.

On our bonding ceremony day, Araya hanged herself in the main hall wearing a white dress.

Lucian's face went pale, but he kept his expression cold and went through with the permanent marking anyway, because I was pregnant.

Those months carrying his child were the darkest of my life.

The morning sickness in my first trimester was brutal, like my body was rejecting this baby and everything between Lucian and me. I threw up until there was nothing left in my stomach, until the acid burned my throat raw, until my legs gave out and I couldn't stand anymore. I'd end up on my knees by the toilet, dry heaving with nothing left to give.

The estate's best doctors came to see me and prescribed every kind of IV nutrient drip and anti-nausea medication money could buy. But all that expensive medical care couldn't fix a broken heart.

Lucian never came to see me during the pregnancy. He locked me away in the most remote wing of the manor, like I was some shameful secret he needed to hide.

The day I went into labor, I finally understood what it meant to wish for death.

The contractions hit me in waves, each one worse than the last, and every single one felt like it was tearing me apart. But my body was too weak—nine months of mental torture and carrying an unwanted child had pushed me past my limits.

"She's losing too much blood!" A nurse's panicked voice cut through the chaos. "Get the crash cart ready! Someone call the blood bank now!"

The doctor's orders came rapid-fire, and the delivery room descended into chaos.

My consciousness began to slip away, like a thread being pulled loose, drifting into nothingness. The voices around me grew distant and muffled, fading into a static blur.

And even as I lost consciousness for the last time, Lucian never showed up.

*****

I jolted awake and found myself in Lucian's room.

Lucian lay on the bed, his body burning up. The sickly sweet scent of forced heat filled the entire room, making my head spin.

I was back, back to the day he'd been poisoned.

The timeline hit me like a freight train—I'd just walked into Lucian's room, ready to help him through the worst of it. Ready to make the mistake that would ruin everything.

No. Not this time.

I bolted from the room and tracked down Ayara. "You were chosen to marry Draven, weren't you?" I demanded.

She froze, tears still wet on her cheeks. "How did you know?"

"Doesn't matter," I said, my heart pounding. "You become Lucian's cure, and I'll take your place as Draven's mate."