The Alpha King’s Bride-To-Be

Her heart pounded violently as she stared at the man standing before her.

Alexander Blackwood.

Her third fated mate.

She had lived through this nightmare twice already. Despite desperately wanting things to be different, deep down, she knew how it would end.

Still, a small part of her had dared to hope.

Perhaps the Moon Goddess had finally decided to show her mercy. Perhaps, after years of being treated like an outcast, Zaya Rutherford would finally experience what it felt like to be loved by her fated mate.

Perhaps this time would be different.

“No, Zaya.”

The single word shattered her fragile hope.

She stared up at Alexander, searching his face for the slightest hint of hesitation.

There was none.

The man who was supposed to complete her soul looked at her as though she were something filthy he had accidentally stepped on.

“Alex…” Her voice trembled as she clutched his expensive coat. “Please…”

Whispers surrounded them as the pack members of Crescent Moon Pack watched, anticipating yet another humiliating moment in her life.

She should have been used to this by now.

Instead, it hurt even more than the last two times.

Alexander stared at her hand as though she had contaminated him. Disgust twisted his handsome face as he flung her hand away.

Zaya stumbled backward, barely catching herself against a nearby wall before falling onto the dirt.

Alexander didn’t offer her a hand.

“Do you truly believe I would accept a cursed Lycan as my mate?” he sneered. “I, Alexander Blackwood, son of the High Minister, reject you, Zaya Rutherford.”

For a moment, the world seemed to stop turning.

Then the pain struck.

It exploded through her chest as though invisible claws were tearing her heart apart.

The mating bond snapped.

Because Alexander was the one rejecting her, she alone bore the agony of its severance.

Her knees threatened to buckle as she pressed a trembling hand against her chest. Every breath became a struggle.

She wanted to scream, but the pain stole her voice.

All she could do was stare at Alexander’s retreating figure, silently begging him to stop and reconsider.

He never did.

The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. Before she could understand what was happening, she doubled over and coughed violently, crimson droplets staining the ground.

Yet no one moved to help her.

Instead, the whispers grew louder.

“A cursed Lycan.”

“She must be a witch.”

“Rejected by three mates. How disgraceful.”

“I heard she doesn’t even have a wolf,” a woman muttered, pulling her daughter away. “Stay away from her. I don’t want you near that cursed woman.”

Zaya squeezed her eyes shut.

Each word struck harder than any weapon.

She had never harmed anyone in the pack. She had never asked to be born different from other Lycans.

Yet her existence alone was enough to make everyone despise her.

“Cursed Lycan!”

A stone came flying toward her.

Zaya raised her arm just in time, but the rock slammed into her forearm, tearing her skin. Before she could recover, another struck her knee.

Her legs gave out, and she crashed onto the dirt.

Blood trickled down her arm and soaked through her torn dress. She struggled to stand, but her injured knee refused to support her weight.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Alexander mounting his horse.

For one foolish moment, she waited.

Perhaps he would look back. Perhaps he would feel some remorse after seeing what his rejection had done to her.

But Alexander simply adjusted the reins and rode away.

He never looked back.

Not once.

Zaya swallowed hard, forcing back her tears. She wouldn’t give the villagers that satisfaction.

Then they began picking up their spears.

One by one, they closed in around her.

Her breath caught.

They weren’t satisfied with humiliating her. They wanted her gone.

Perhaps they had finally decided that killing her was the only way to rid themselves of the misfortune they believed she carried.

Zaya curled into herself as the villagers advanced.

There was no one to protect her.

No mate to defend her.

No wolf to fight by her side.

She could barely stand, let alone defend herself against an angry crowd.

All she could do was pray that the Moon Goddess would finally end her suffering.

Bitterness flooded her heart.

The Moon Goddess had made her a wolfless Lycan, unable to shift or heal her own wounds like everyone else.

No wolf.

No strength to defend herself.

Nothing.

What kind of life was she supposed to live?

As the villagers raised their weapons, Zaya squeezed her eyes shut.

Perhaps this was how her story would end.

Perhaps she had been cursed from birth.

Then, just as she prepared to accept her fate, the thunder of approaching carriage wheels echoed through the village square.

The villagers paused.

One by one, they lowered their weapons and stepped aside, their confidence replaced by fear.

Someone powerful had arrived.

The Alpha?

Why would he come here?

Zaya stiffened as a pair of polished black boots stopped before her.

“Your Highness,” one of the villagers hurriedly said, bowing. “Please don’t go near her. She may truly be cursed.”

Your Highness?

Zaya’s heart skipped.

Slowly, she lifted her head.

Prince Kayden.

Every Alpha in the northern, eastern, and western packs answered to the Supreme King, Darius Blackwood.

The king was known as a wise and merciful ruler who valued peace. His sons, however, were another story.

Prince Kayden, the king’s first son, was whispered about like a living nightmare.

A ruthless Lycan.

A merciless executioner.

A man who answered rebellion with death and showed little mercy to those who crossed him.

People called him the Devil Prince.

Zaya had heard countless stories about his cruelty. Some claimed he had personally beheaded rebellious Lycans, while others insisted even the bravest warriors trembled at the mention of his name.

She had never expected to see him in person.

And now, he stood directly before her.

Towering over her.

Watching her.

His cold blue eyes met hers without warmth. His black hair fell carelessly across his forehead, and his face appeared carved from stone.

Power radiated from him so naturally that even the air seemed heavier in his presence.

Zaya instinctively shrank back.

She couldn’t understand why someone like him would bother coming to their insignificant village, nor why the villagers who had nearly killed her now trembled before him.

But she had no time to dwell on those questions.

The villagers hurriedly spoke over one another, eager to convince the prince she was dangerous.

“Your Highness, she’s a witch!”

“She’ll bring ruin upon the pack!”

“She deserves to be exiled before she brings more misfortune upon us!”

Zaya lowered her gaze, clutching her torn dress.

She had no strength left to defend herself. Whatever Prince Kayden decided to do with her, she doubted anyone would dare challenge him.

Her pulse hammered as he took one slow step toward her.

Then another.

For the briefest moment, something flickered across his face.

Recognition.

His eyes widened almost imperceptibly. His jaw tightened as he studied her.

Zaya stared back, confused by his sudden change in expression.

Had they met before?

She couldn’t remember ever seeing him.

Yet there was something unsettling about the way he looked at her, as though he had found someone he had been searching for.

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

Then Prince Kayden finally spoke.

His deep voice cut through the silence.

“It’s you.”