DAMNED TO THE DISABLED WEREWOLF KING

“She’s the omega girl who grew up with no pack mark… must be cursed.”

“I heard she tried to seduce a Beta last winter and got caught.”

“She always did look like her mother. Same filthy blood.”

Their voices were low, but in this place, everything echoed.

I stopped in the center of the chamber, surrounded by people who wanted nothing more than to see me burn to death. My heart thundered in my chest, but I forced myself to breathe. In and out. Like my mother taught me when I was younger. Before she died. 

“Elise Davis,” The court judge started. “You stand accused of falsely accusing Lord Vax of attempted rape.”

The words dropped like stones into a silent pond.

That was a lie.

I lifted my eyes to him. “I didn’t lie. He…he tried to force himself on me. He cornered me behind the stables. There were bruises on my arms. Ask the healer, she saw them.”

“She also said they were self-inflicted,” The judge snapped.

Heat rushed to my face. “Why would I do that to myself?! Why would I ever—”

“Because you’re desperate,” someone muttered in the crowd. “And desperate women do desperate things.”

My gaze flicked to the Lord who was standing calmly with his arms crossed. He had that same little smile. The same one he wore that night, when I screamed and no one came.

He winked.

I swallowed down the vomit that rose in my throat.

“I didn’t seduce him,” I said, my voice trembling. I knew they wouldn't believe me.

I was just an omega, after all.

“Enough,” the judge barked. “You dare bring shame to this court with your lies. You dare drag a noble’s name through the mud.”

I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood.

“For your false accusations,” he declared, his voice booming through the courtroom, “you will be sentenced to twenty lashes. Wolfsbane-infused whip. Carried out immediately.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Two policemen came forward and dragged me out to the underground cell, where grievous punishments were carried out.

My blouse was ripped down the back, exposing skin already trembling.

“Begin,” the judge ordered.

The first lash tore into my back. 

By the tenth, I was barely conscious.

At fifteen, I collapsed.

I woke up in my bed.

At least, what passed for my bed, thin mattress, torn sheets, and the stench of mold in the tiny servant’s quarters I called home.

My back felt like it had been set on fire.

“It's about damn time you woke up,” my stepmother hissed from the doorway. “You’ve been lying there all day like a corpse.”

I tried to push myself up, but my body screamed in protest.

She scoffed. “You’ve brought nothing but shame to this family. Accusing a lord? Are you out of your mind?”

“I…” My throat was dry. “I didn’t…”

“Save it. We’ve heard enough of your lies.” She stepped forward and dumped a bowl of cold water beside me. “Clean yourself up. The house won’t tidy itself.”

I waited until she left before forcing myself to sit up. My fingers trembled as I dipped a cloth in the cold water and pressed it to one of the wounds. No one wanted to see a “wounded whore,” as my stepmother so kindly called me.

I dragged myself into the dining room, hoping I could just grab bread and slip away.

My father sat at the head of the table, as always, dressed in his crisp white suit, with his laptop in front of him. Beside him, my step sister giggled over something, pouring honey into her tea.

“Good morning, Father,” I said softly, bowing my head.

He didn’t lift his gaze from the scrolls. He only blinked once, then muttered, “Where is your bracelet?”

My throat tightened. “I… I lost it...”

His eyes lifted slowly. Just once. Cold. “Do you know what happens when you walk around without it?”

“I…” I hesitated. “I woke up yesterday and it was gone. I…I looked for it, I swear. Before I left for work. Before Lord Vax…”

The words died in my throat.

My Stepsister made a small, pitying sound and set her teacup down with a gentle clink. “Honestly, Father, maybe it’s time we admitted she loses it on purpose. Always craving attention. It’s rather pathetic.”

He glared at me. “That bracelet was enchanted by your mother’s bloodline. It was the only thing keeping your slut aura suppressed.”

I flinched.

“She was the same,” he continued, voice like frost. “Too beautiful. Too dangerous. Wolves lost their minds around her. And now you…you’re worse.”

My stepsister snorted delicately. “Honestly, it’s no wonder men act the way they do around her. Drooling like dogs the second she walks by.”

From the moment I turned fifteen and my aura bloomed, the whispers started. Warriors came too close. Traders at the market stared too long. Married men brushed against me and next thing, they're offering me money for me to sleep with them.

Even when I covered myself from head to toe. Even when I begged the Moon Goddess to make it stop.

They still looked at me like I was prey.

The whore of the pack.

My stepmother walked into the room again, wiping her hands on a stained apron. She took one look at me before curling her lip.

“Maybe if you learned to keep your legs closed,” she sneered, “we wouldn’t have to deal with the shame you drag into this family every day.”

I said nothing. What was there to say? Denials meant nothing.

My father nodded in agreement, not even glancing at me. “Your reputation is in tatters, Elise . But the Moon Goddess works in mysterious ways.”

My brows squeezed. “What do you mean?”

He finally looked at me, with a blank expression. “A marriage proposal has come. From the Alpha King.”

My heart stopped.

“W…What?” I stammered, unsure I heard him correctly.

He nodded slowly, closing the laptop he’d been intently focused on. “You will be doing this family a great honor. Despite everything you’ve done,somehow, the Goddess has blessed us with this opportunity. You will marry into royalty.”

A bitter laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “You want me to marry the Alpha? After calling me cursed?”

My stepmother scoffed. “You should be grateful that anyone still wants to marry you.”

I clenched my fists. “Who is he?”

My father took a slow sip of his tea, then uttered the name that made my heart stop beating.

“ Dorian.”