One Night Stand With The Lycan King; His Hidden Heirs

Chapter One 

Elena’s POV

I should have never come here. 

There’s a reason I hate parties—especially ones held to celebrate lies.

The Silvermist Packhouse was glittering with light and grandeur—gold chandeliers, silk tablecloths, and too many wolves pretending to be saints in stolen fur, the air thick with perfume, pride, and hypocrisy. Laughter rang across the hall like the sharp tinkle of broken glass.

Every moment here was a reminder: I didn’t belong. Not anymore. Not since he rejected me.

I tried to keep to the shadows, far from the couples spinning around the marble floor, far from the spot where Alpha Damien Blackthorn twirled his new Luna in front of the pack.

My fated mate. And the woman he chose instead.

Samantha Lawson. The closest person I have as a sister or rather rival. Samantha could have been my sister but we were not biologically related. Her mother used to help my mother when she was alive and after she died, they took me in. 

At first, I thought I had found a new family and that my life was not really over. Little did I know, that was far from the truth. They only took me in because of the properties my mother left behind and showed me what wickedness tasted like. 

Since no one in the pack liked me, all thanks to my foster mother, I kept shut and stayed in the house, treated like a slave in my own house. 

 Even though the signs had been so obvious and glaring. I didn't want to believe that she hated me to the extent of wanting everything that was mine. I wanted to allow myself to believe that someone would want to be in the same space as I but since my mother died, that belief has been rather ridiculous. 

I turned away from the crowd and made for the side hall, praying no one would notice me, no one would remember. But of course, I wasn’t that lucky.

“Well, well, well,” came a voice coated in venomous sweetness. “Look what the Moon Goddess dragged in.”

I didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

Samantha.

I stilled. My spine locked tight. Not now. Not again. 

She sauntered toward me in a body-hugging silver gown, dripping in jewels and malice. Her sharp, almond-shaped eyes slid over me like I was something sticky on the bottom of her heel.

“Oh no,” she gasped with mock horror, “is that my dress?”

I frowned, instinctively pulling at the hem of my midnight-blue gown. “What are you talking about? This dress was my mother’s. I’ve had it for years.”

She laughed, the sound shrill and fake. “You expect me to believe that tragic orphan stories still work in this pack? Please. Damien—Alpha Damien—bought me that dress just last week. Custom made. There’s no way a little nothing like you could afford it.”

“It’s not your dress,” I said firmly, heart pounding. “This belonged to my mother. She left it for me before she died.”

Samantha’s expression twisted into something wicked. “Oh, how touching. The noble sacrifice of a nobody. Honestly, I forget your mother even existed—until you keep parading around in her rags pretending they’re relics.”

I clenched my jaw. I wouldn’t cry. Not in front of her.

“I’m not pretending anything.”

“No?” She tilted her head. “Because you showing up to my wedding party, in my dress, reeks of desperation. Are you hoping Damien will take one look at you and change his mind? Oh, poor little Elena, still clinging to the crumbs of a bond no one even wanted.”

“Enough, Samantha.” I cautioned, my voice shaking as my fist clenched tight. 

“It is Luna Samantha to you!” she snapped. “And I think it’s time you took that off.” Her left brow rose in indignation and disgust. 

I blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.” She crossed her arms. “Take. It. Off.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m dead serious. If you won’t return stolen property with grace, then you’ll do it with shame. Guards!”

Two pack guards appeared from the edges of the crowd, obedient as always. My blood turned cold.

“This is ridiculous—”

“She’s wearing a dress that doesn’t belong to her,” Samantha declared to the now-watching room, voice rising theatrically. “I’m the Luna now. I have every right to uphold respect and order in this pack.”

“I didn’t steal anything!” I cried. “You’re doing this to humiliate me!”

Samantha smirked. “Sweetheart, I don’t need to humiliate you. You did that just by showing up.”

The guards moved forward.

“No, please—don’t—”

“Hold her,” Samantha ordered, and before I could react, strong hands grabbed my arms. I struggled wildly, panic blinding me.

“Stop! Let go of me! This is my mother’s dress—”

“Rip it off if you have to,” Samantha sneered. “It probably still smells like poverty anyway.”

The neckline tore. Cold air grazed my skin. A collective gasp echoed around the hall as fabric split across my chest and thigh. My face flamed with shame.

“No—stop—please!”

“Poor thing,” Samantha cooed mockingly. “Maybe next time, wear something you can afford—or stay home with the rest of the unclaimed mutts.”

Tears burned at the corners of my eyes. I kicked, thrashed, fought like a cornered animal. But I was losing. The torn edges slipped from my shoulder. Another pull and I’d be fully exposed in front of everyone.

“ENOUGH!”

The voice rang like thunder crashing through stone. Like something else was mixed with it. Was that an Alpha tone? Or…

Everyone froze.

The guards’ hands went slack. I ripped free, stumbling to the floor. My knees hit the marble with a thud, and I gasped, hugging my arms tightly around my chest. What remained of the dress barely covered me.

I looked up—and saw him.

He stood in the doorway, tall and shadowed, his presence sucking the breath from the room. I couldn’t see his face clearly, not with the lighting behind him, but I felt the power rolling off him in waves. He wasn’t from here. He wasn’t ordinary. He was different. A different specie.

He stepped forward, and the air in the room changed and became charged with fear, tension and authority. 

“Who gave the order to strip a woman in front of her pack like a criminal?” His voice was low, dangerous. “Who dares dishonor a guest with such disgrace?”

Samantha stammered, suddenly pale. “She—she is not a guest and she also stole from me. That dress—”

“I don’t recall asking for your explanation,” the man said coldly, cutting her off. 

Samantha shrank back. The muttering in the hall had quietened and was starting to go high. 

He turned his head slightly, deep green eyes like green forest falling to me, still kneeling, still trembling.

My arms tightened around myself, unable to look away from his hypnotic gaze. 

Who was this man?