Bride For The Cursed Alpha

Lola P.O.V

“Lola, you’ve got to help your sister out and marry in her place,” my father’s tired, pleading voice rang through my mind. I opened my eyes and surveyed the room I was in.

Today was my wedding day to Ragnar, but there was no ceremony nor blessings—just a ring, and no sign of the groom. In the afternoon, after a fleet of cars from the Silverfang family picked me up, I was brought to this luxurious bedroom.

The room was dimly lit with an eerie atmosphere that made me feel like I was in a dream.

I sat at the bedside alone. I never expected my wedding to turn out like this. It was so different from what I had envisioned. But what made me more anxious was the wedding night ahead. After all, rumor had it that six previous mates of Ragnar were dead.

My fear began to take over me at that moment. Looking around the room again, I still couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. Despite the grandeur and luxurious furnishings, there was a strange energy that permeated the air. Even the gold ring on my finger seemed to emit an ominous glow in the dim light.

I had always been bold, but even now, I couldn’t help but hug my knees and feel terrified when I thought about what I might have to face later.

A month ago, the Silverfang family sent a marriage proposal to my home—the Frostbane family—requesting the hand of my father’s eldest daughter, Calista, for their son, Ragnar, saying that they were destined to be together. Yes, they wanted the Frostbane family’s eldest daughter, Calista.

But at this moment, it was I—Lola, the illegitimate daughter of the Frostbane family—who married into the Silverfang family.

“Ragnar is going to be a good match as your mate,” my father had said after receiving the Silverfang family’s marriage proposal. He found me the next morning. As he put his hand on my shoulder, he said in a low growl,

“Ragnar is the Alpha’s son, and besides, he’s the next big thing in the Livingston army. There’s no one in the werewolf world with more potential than him. It’s for your own good to be able to marry him.”

His gaze flickered for a moment. “Calista was supposed to marry him, but she got burned and disfigured in a fire, so now she can’t. Lola, you can help your sister and marry him in her place. Plus, you never leave the house, and no one knows you exist. You look just like your sister, so no one will notice the difference.”

My face must have looked like a jigsaw puzzle at that moment. Just because I preferred staying indoors didn’t mean I was oblivious to the world or hadn’t heard the whispers about Ragnar.

Sure, he was set to be the next leader of the Livingston army, but he was also grappling with a life-threatening disease that would cut his time short before he hit thirty, as predicted by the witches.

And that wasn’t even the worst of it. Ragnar had a track record of marrying every year, yet not one of his wives had survived beyond the second day.

In various legions, there had long been talk of Ragnar being abandoned by the Moon Goddess—his wolf disappeared and unable to find a mate. Such a person was by no means the suitable match my father spoke of.

I didn’t want to marry him at all.

This enigmatic man, Ragnar, turned out to be the person I was to marry. Despite my protests and resistance, my father coerced me into becoming Ragnar’s seventh wife.

I never believed in fate or destiny, but I couldn’t fathom Ragnar’s decision to marry me as someone capable of leading such a huge army. Shouldn’t he be more careful about choosing his partner?

Besides, we had never met each other, yet our marriage had been arranged in such a nonchalant manner.

After pondering for what seemed like an eternity, exhaustion finally overtook me, and I dozed off on the bed as a newlywed in unfamiliar territory.

I dared not sleep too deeply. I couldn’t tell how long I had been asleep before I was jolted awake by the sound of the door opening.

As a chill ran down my spine, I instinctively sat up, feeling half of my drowsiness disappear. In an instant, the door creaked open, and a towering figure appeared before me.

But as he entered, a gust blew out the last flicker of light in the room, enveloping me in pitch-black darkness. I could barely make out the shape of a man standing over me.

“How is this even possible?” a voice suddenly echoed in my ear.

Zoe was my wolf, but because I was a hybrid—half-wolf, half-witch—she couldn’t fully materialize and could only communicate with me like this.

“Why can’t I see this man’s face clearly?” I asked, perplexed.

“This is strange, very strange,” Zoe replied. “As far as I’m concerned, you should be able to see his face. With me around, the darkness shouldn’t affect us—but for some reason, we can’t see his face at all.”

“Maybe it’s just my nerves tonight,” I suggested. “I’m so nervous that my palms are sweating.”

Zoe fell silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, Lola, I can’t protect you.”

Before I could comfort Zoe, the man’s footsteps grew louder and closer until he was standing right beside me. My mind went blank at once.

I couldn’t see his face, nor could I discern his expression. However, I could sense the eerie energy emanating from him, and with just one glance, I found myself gasping for air.

I paused, staring in disbelief. He was my mate—the same man rumored to have lost six previous partners and who couldn’t live past thirty.

But he looked perfectly healthy. How could that be possible?

No way. Those were certainly just hearsays. I shook my head.

What the hell was I doing at that moment? I couldn’t believe I was even thinking about the rumors. Who cared how many partners he had lost before? Who cared whether they were true or not?

Ragnar finally made his way toward the bed, causing me to instinctively move toward the center. Standing over me, he loomed large.

His voice was as cold as his gaze. “You can cure my illness,” he said.

My jaw dropped open, shocked by the statement. Cure his illness? What did he mean?

“I’m talking to you.” Ragnar leaned in, his sinewy fingers gripping my chin and forcing me to meet his intense stare.

I couldn’t see his face clearly, but I could feel his hand on my jaw. It was icy cold, causing me to shiver involuntarily.

Was this the normal body temperature of a person?

He said I was the cure to his illness, but I was completely clueless. I didn’t dare to simply make up an answer, so I just kept quiet.

Unfortunately, my silence only worsened his disposition toward me. He continued to tower over me, a disdainful sneer crossing his lips.

“You’re already in my bed,” he remarked, “so put away your tricks.”

What tricks? What was he talking about? I was dumbstruck by his remark.

Before I could even react, I heard his breathing become heavier. He suddenly leaned forward and pressed on my shoulders. Without warning, he began to undress me.

His movements were quick and precise, his voice carrying a deep, almost menacing tone. “Let’s see if you really have what it takes to cure me.”

It was pitch black, and I could barely make out his face, but the intensity of his gaze bore down on me like a spotlight, making my blood freeze.

I tried to stop him from undressing me, my voice quivering as I asked, “I–If I say I can’t cure your illness, will you let me go?”

I didn’t want to have anything to do with this terrifying man, not to mention consummate this marriage.

“Well,” he sneered as he noticed my attempt to stop him, tightening his grip, “put your hands away.”

“No!” I clung to my collar tightly. Only a fool would listen to him and let go at this moment.

My nightgown… I fought back with all my might to break free from his grasp.