Groom Of Three Sins; Alpha's Mate is a Male?

"He can go fuck himself or a man for all I care! He's a man, isn't he? Let him find his fellow man — someone whose hole he can shove his manhood into and relieve himself of the stress or whatever is tormenting his sick head!"

Her voice rang loud and clear from the hallway. My fiancée — venting to her best friend.

Not about me, of course.

About her ex. My brother.

Funny, isn’t it?

Tonight’s her bridal shower. Just an hour ago, I dropped off a bouquet of roses with a few of our friends. I should’ve left right after, returned to the private lounge my father set up for my bachelor’s eve.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

I don’t even know half the men he invited there. Besides, the loneliness waiting for me in that room?

It's colder than this.

So, I lingered here. Secretly. Hiding at the edge of the party meant to celebrate the woman I’m marrying tomorrow.

We’ve been engaged for two months.

And she’s still brooding over my brother — the arrogant bastard she was once in a relationship with.

As if belonging to me...

Wasn't something to be happy about.

I turned away from the hallway, walking off before my mind could dig deeper into what I’d just overheard.

This marriage? It's only happening because of my father.

If he weren’t the Alpha and I his heir, I wouldn’t be here.

Wouldn’t be forced into this alliance with Rebecca, who clearly still pines for someone else, even on the eve of our wedding.

"Oh, hello... If it isn’t my handsome stepbrother."

The voice was cold and smooth. Musk-laced with ego and cologne I hated.

I froze mid-step.

Of course, it was him.

My brother. Half-brother. The stray my father picked off the streets, polished, and raised like a shadow to my spotlight, a constant reminder to keep me on my toes. His little project.his perfect son.

I ignored him, attempting to slide past through the narrow space beneath his outstretched arm.

He cackled, low and rough, the sound scraping against my nerves. His arm flexed, cutting off my exit.

"Why are you running, Ed?" he mocked. "Too scared to face me knowing the truth? That I’m better than you?"

I swallowed hard.

He always did this. Taunted me. Picked at the parts of me that bled the easiest. Sometimes, he even boasted about taking over Father’s pack, because I was, in his words, lacking and unfit to rule as an Alpha.

I never fought back. Never stepped out of line. I kept to my lane.

I didn’t want to cross him. Didn’t want to escalate anything.

He’s everything I despise.

Everything I’m not and can never be.

He’s a beta — the second-in-command in every werewolf hierarchy. A role of strength, action, and pride.

And me?

My fate…

Is something I dare not even speak of. Something I even hide from my own family.

"Don’t start, Luca. I’m not in the mood,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Not for him.

Not for Rebecca.

Not for the heartbreak they both seem determined to drag me through tonight.

I expected him to lower his arm. To let me pass. I’d already told him I wasn’t interested and wasn’t in the mood. So why was he still standing there like a damn wall?

His gaze pinned me in place. Unmoving and unflinching. I felt goosebumps around me which I couldn't explain the reasons for.

Was he silently laughing at me again?

Mocking me in that twisted little mind of his?

Maybe reliving every moment he outshined me — in high school, in university, in the same business degree we studied together abroad.

Or worse… maybe he was pitying me.

Poor Edward.

The heir who can’t do anything right.

Not with the company he's currently acting CEO of.

Not as the Alpha heir of the Bloodmoon Pack.

I sighed inwardly, the weight pressing down on my chest like iron.

Maybe I am a disappointment. Maybe that’s why my father always looks at me like I’m a stain on his legacy.

Angry. Ashamed. Always expecting more.

“Let me go, Luca.”

This time, my voice was firmer — laced with a composure I had to drag from deep within.

I hoped it sounded convincing.

I hoped it didn’t crack the way I felt inside.

Silence stretched. And only the pin drop tense and heavy feelings were left in the air.

Then, the moment broke as footsteps and voices echoed down the hallway — passersby, oblivious to the war happening in my chest.

"I can't believe Rebecca Patel is getting married to Edward Johnson of all people. He doesn't deserve her at all!"

The first voice came from somewhere nearby. I couldn’t pinpoint who it was—it could have been any of the several men in the room.

And even if I could walk up to the one who said it, what difference would it make? People are entitled to their opinions, aren't they?

"“He’s clearly not her type,” another voice chimed in. “How did that whiny, weak wolf get lucky enough to land a she-wolf with Alpha blood like Rebecca? Switch their roles at birth and I swear, she’d be the Alpha. Edward? He’d be a damn F-class omega. Or lower.”

Another voice joined in. I thought the first comment was harsh and cruel—but this one... this one scraped something deeper. I don’t even know where to begin unraveling the shame coiling through my chest.

It wasn’t just a cruel insult anymore—it was the reminder of what the whole city already whispered behind closed doors.

The weak heir. The unworthy mate.

And F-class omega ?. I scoffed inwardly.

That wasn’t the insult they thought it was. I don’t look down on omegas.

That part didn’t sting—I’ve heard worse. I’ve called myself worse.

But being compared to Rebecca? My fiancée, the golden warrior everyone adored?

That’s where I drew the line.

That’s where their words managed to crawl beneath my skin and settle like acid.

"If he were a female, he'd be the nerd no one wanted," the first voice added with a sneer. They both erupted in laughter, their voices grating and smug.

"No, no," the second one said, almost choking between laughs. "He’d be that desperate little nerd who gets passed around by all the guys in class. Just grateful to get a taste of the cock she never deserved in her."

That did it.

I was done. I had heard enough.

I turned around, ready to face my companion, needing to leave, to move, to breathe. But Luca’s arm was still blocking the narrow space behind me.

I was half-expecting to see a smug grin on his face. Maybe a smirk or another teasing jab to complete my humiliation.

But when my gaze met his, I paused.

He wasn’t smiling.

He wasn’t laughing.

He wasn’t even looking at me.

His eyes were lost in thought, locked on something far away, his expression unreadable. Cold, maybe. Or calculating. I couldn’t tell.

And yet, despite the silence between us, his arm still barred the path in front of me—the very reason I had turned to face him in the first place.

I couldn’t tell what he was thinking — only that he was thinking something.