Chapter 1: Some Kind Of Deranged Stalker

 

"Are my tits out?"

Zaya barely glanced over. "A little. Fix the left one."

I yanked up the neckline of my dress for the third time. It was too tight, too low-cut, and stole from my sister who apparently had the body of a Victoria's Secret model. I did not.

"Remind me why we're doing this again?" Jade whispered from behind the hedge.

"Because Marcus said I couldn't come to his uncle's wedding," I said, wobbling on heels that were definitely a mistake. "Something about it being Moonstone Pack only."

"So we're crashing another pack's wedding to prove what exactly?"

"That I'm not some embarrassing girlfriend he has to hide because I'm from Riverside Pack." I peeked through the gap in the bushes. 

The ceremony was already starting. White chairs, string lights in the trees, at least two hundred guests in expensive clothes. 

Jade snorted. "Or he's going to be pissed and dump you in front of everyone."

"Then at least I'll know where we stand."

"You're insane," Zaya muttered, but she was grinning. She lived for this kind of chaos.

If I'd known what was about to happen, I would've turned around right then.

I spotted Marcus in the third row. Dark hair, broad shoulders, wearing a suit that probably cost more than my rent. We'd been dating for eight months.

The guy who currently had his arm around another girl.

My heart stopped.

"Is that Sophie?" Zaya's voice went up an octave.

"No." I leaned closer, squinting. "That can't be Sophie. He said only Moonstone Pack could attend. She's from Landravers pack, but he swore they were just—"

Marcus leaned over and kissed her. On the mouth. For way too long.

"That's definitely Sophie," Jade confirmed.

"Oh my god." My stomach dropped into my feet. "Oh my god, that's Sophie. He's—they're—"

"Okay, new plan," Zaya said quickly. "We leave. Right now. We go home, eat ice cream, and you block his number—"

"He LIED to me." My voice cracked.

"Remi, we need to go—"

"I can't believe this. I borrowed these torture heels. I’m sneaking in like some kind of deranged stalker—"

I stepped back, gesturing wildly. My heel caught on something.

A root. Or a rock. I didn't know. Didn't matter.

I was falling.

"REMI—"

I grabbed for the hedge. The branch snapped in my hand.

And then I was rolling.

Down the hill. Through decorative flowers. Over what might have been a speaker and what I think was the cake table because something creamy slapped my face on the way down.

My dress was ripping, my hair was in my face, and all I could think was this is how I die. Death by heartbreak and bad footwear choices.

I hit the aisle runner with a thud that knocked the air from my lungs.

For one beautiful, horrible second, everything went silent.

I was face-down on white fabric. There were shoes nearby. I lifted my head.

I was at the altar.

The bride was three feet away, mid-vow, staring at me with her mouth open.

"What the—"

I tried to get up, but my hand was tangled in something. White fabric. Lace.

The train of her dress.

"Wait, I'm sorry—" I yanked my hand free.

And then the train ripped.

The bride stumbled backward with force.

Her heel caught on the torn fabric.

She fell.

Everything happened in slow motion. Her arms windmilling. Her head tilting back. The sickening crack when her skull hit the stone pavement.

Then silence.

She wasn't moving.

"Oh my god," someone whispered.

A man rushed forward. He knelt beside her, pressing fingers to her neck. Checking for a pulse.

He looked up at the groom. His face was pale.

"She's... she's not breathing."

My ears started ringing. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.

Someone in the crowd laughed. "Well. That's a new record."

"She didn't even make it an hour," another voice added. "Didn't even get marked."

"Poor Nero. Six times. Has to be some kind of curse."

My brain was short-circuiting. Six? What did that mean?

“Remi?” Marcus stepped forward, still holding Sophie’s hand like she was his emotional support slut. “What are you doing here?”

I blinked up at him. Frosting dripped down my cheek. “I should’ve tripped on you instead.” 

Strong hands grabbed my arms. Hauled me to my feet.

I looked up.

The groom was standing in front of me. And he was... jesus. He was beautiful. No, that was the wrong word. Devastating. 

The kind of face that made you forget your own name. He was tall—taller than Marcus, taller than any wolf I'd ever met.. Sharp jaw. 

Dark hair that looked like he'd run his hands through it too many times. And his eyes—silver. Actual silver, glowing faintly. Alpha eyes.

My wolf stirred. Interested. Very interested.

Not now, I told her. We literally just killed someone.

I forgot where I was.

I forgot what I'd just done.

All I could think was: Holy shit, he's hot.

"Are you LISTENING to me?"

I blinked. "Sorry. You're just very... hot."

His eye twitched. Hot."

"Yeah. Aggressively. It's distracting."

"You just killed my bride and you're commenting on my face?"

Oh. Right. The bride. The murder. Reality came crashing back like a bucket of ice water.

From somewhere in the bushes, I heard my friends completely losing it.

"OH MY GOD SHE KILLED SOMEONE—"

"WE NEED A LAWYER!"

"RUN, REMI! RUNNNN!"

"NO, STAY! CONFESS! IT'S MANSLAUGHTER AT MOST—"

"Was that her SPINE?! I heard cracking!"

"That was a BRANCH, you idiot—"

The groom's grip on my arm tightened. His alpha presence pressed against me, suffocating.  My wolf wanted to submit immediately. I shoved her down.

His voice dropped to something dangerous. "What pack are you from?"

"Riverside," I squeaked. "I'm—I'm nobody. This is a mistake. I didn't mean to—the branch broke and I fell and.."

"You're from Riverside?" he smirked. "And you crashed a Moonstone Pack wedding?"

"Technically, I crashed through the wedding—"

"You killed my bride."

"That was an accident—"

"She's dead."

"I KNOW." My voice broke. "I know, okay? I know. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I'll do anything—"

"Anything?"  He looked at me—really looked. Taking in my torn dress, my smeared makeup, the way I was shaking.

An old woman stepped forward from the crowd. She was smiling.

"Congratulations, Alpha Nero," she said cheerfully. "Seems the Moon Goddess has chosen your seventh bride."

I choked. "SEVENTH?!"

"The other six are dead," he said flatly.

My blood went cold. "Six. You've had SIX wives. And they're all DEAD?"

"Yes."

"And  I'm number seven?"

"Correct."

"IS THIS A MARRIAGE OR A SURVIVAL GAME?!"

His jaw ticked. "Both." Then, to the guards nearby: "Get her cleaned up. We're finishing the ceremony."

"I'M NOT MARRYING YOU—"

"You killed my bride." His voice was cold. Final. "You owe me a wedding."

"That's not how marriage works!"

"It is when you kill an alpha's intended." He leaned close. So close I could feel his breath on my face. 

 "Of all the idiots who could've killed her," he said quietly, "it had to be the one with spicy eyes."

My brain stuttered. "Spicy... eyes?"

"Get her dressed," Nero told the guards. "Ten minutes."

"Wait—"

He was already walking away. Then he looked back over his shoulder.

"Try not to die tonight," he said, eyes lingering on my face. “I’m curious about you.”

Then he was gone.

Guards grabbed my arms and started dragging me toward a side building.

"WAIT—" I twisted, trying to see my friends in the bushes. "JADE! Zaya! DON'T LEAVE ME—"

But they were already running. I saw them disappear into the trees.

Smart girls.

I was being pulled through a doorway. Into a room with a vanity and a wedding dress hanging on the wall. The dead bride's dress.

A woman appeared with makeup and pins in her hair. She was a wolf too—I could smell it. Moonstone Pack.

"We need to work fast," she said, eyeing me critically. "You're smaller than she was. We'll have to take in the waist."

"I'm not actually doing this," I said. My voice sounded dreamlike. "This is insane. You can't force someone to marry—"

"You killed his bride," the woman said simply, like that explained everything. "Bride for bride."

"It was an accident—"

"Doesn't matter." She started unlacing my torn dress. "You're here now. And trust me, honey, you do NOT want to refuse Alpha Nero."

"Why? What happens if I refuse?"

She met my eyes in the mirror. And for the first time, I saw genuine pity there.

She pulled the wedding dress off the hanger. “Let’s just say the last wolf who refused him didn’t walk away.”

My blood ran cold. "He killed them?"

"Killing is an understatement." She held up the dress. "Now put this on. Your groom is waiting."

I stared at the dress. 

Somewhere outside, music started playing.

The wedding march.

My wedding march.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Torn dress. Smeared mascara. Leaves in my hair.

This morning I'd woken up planning to surprise my boyfriend at his uncle's wedding.

Now I was about to marry an alpha with six dead wives.

And if I refused, he would probably kill me.

"This is not happening," I whispered.

The woman smiled sadly. "Honey, it already did."

She slipped the dress over my head.

And I realized I just accidentally murdered my way into a cursed marriage with the most dangerous alpha.

I was so fucked.