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The Alpha jealousy
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2026-03-21 05:29:10
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The Cursed Alpha Virgin Bride Alpha Games
The air in the ballroom had shifted. The awe inspired by Beta Elias Vance’s departure was quickly being repurposed by the desperate. I watched from the rim of my champagne glass as Kirsten Matthews gathered a court of sycophants near the chocolate fountain. She was recovering from her humiliation at the piano with the resilience of a cockroach. "Oh, it was breathtaking," Kirsten’s voice carried, shrill and performative. She flipped her blonde hair, ensuring the light caught her diamond earrings. "When I visited the Nightveil territory last spring, Alpha Kutcher Holloway and his son personally gave me a tour of the gardens. He’s quite charming, really. We had tea in the solar. He mentioned that our pack alliances were… promising." A group of Omega females gasped in admiration, hanging on her every fabricated word. My Inner Wolf snorted in disgust. Grandfather hasn't had tea in the solar since grandmother died. And he certainly wouldn't entertain a stray cat like her, let alone a
The Cursed Alpha Virgin Bride Gala Recognition
When she finished, the room erupted in polite, socially mandated clapping. Kirsten stood up, basking in the attention, before turning the microphone toward me. Her smile was sharp enough to draw blood. "That was a little piece I learned during my summer in Vienna," she purred, her voice amplified through the speakers. Her eyes locked onto mine, gleaming with malice. "But I'm sure our guest of honor has her own talents. Tell me, Aurora, do they have pianos where you come from? Or do you stick to howling at the moon?" A ripple of cruel laughter spread through the crowd. I saw Cordelia near the front, sipping her champagne with a satisfied smirk. She was enjoying this. She wanted me to crumble, to prove that I was nothing more than the dirt beneath her designer heels. My Inner Wolf growled, pacing in the back of my mind. Show them, Aurora. Show them what a Queen looks like. "I know a tune or two," I said, my voice steady as I walked toward the stage. The crowd parted, their gaz
The Cursed Alpha Virgin Bride The Gala Rival
in private? You haven't marked me, Draven . There is no bite on my neck. No bond in our minds. Until you put your mark on me, do not presume to dictate who I can hug." His gaze dropped to the bare curve of my neck. For a second, the rage in his eyes faltered, replaced by a hunger so raw it made my breath hitch. His nostrils flared, inhaling deeply, and I knew he was trying to find my scent beneath Andrew's. But then the light turned green, and the moment shattered. He faced forward, jaw clenched tight enough to snap steel, and floored the gas. We didn't speak for the rest of the drive. The Shadowclaw Pack's annual Unity Gala was in full swing by the time we arrived. The grand ballroom was a sea of silk dresses and tuxedos, the air vibrating with the chatter of the elite.Draven abandoned me the moment we stepped through the double doors, storming off toward the bar without a backward glance. Fine by me. I made my way to the powder room to compose myself. The encounter in the car had le
The Cursed Alpha Virgin Bride The Alpha jealousy
Andrew laughed, a sound of genuine relief. Arrange marriage? Thank the Goddess. You deserve better than a man who treats his Pack like a corporation and his mate like an acquisition." He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Draven's. "You're boring, Whitmore. And cold. You have no idea what fire you're trying to dampen." Draven leaned in, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "Careful, Cuomo. The Moonlight Pack is currently negotiating for the southern territories. It would be a shame if those talks... collapsed." The threat hung in the air. Andrew's smile vanished. But instead of backing down, he looked at Draven with something akin to pity. "You think you can bully everyone into submission," Andrew said quietly. "But you have no idea who you're sitting across from. You're disrespecting a wolf of the Holloway bloodline. If her grandfather knew how you treated her..." "Believe what you want," Andrew said, standing up. He threw a stack of cash on the table. "I've lost my appetite."
The Cursed Alpha Virgin Bride Bound to the Alpha
The shutter clicked for the final time, signaling the end of the shoot. The studio crew let out a collective breath they seemed to have been holding for hours. Andrew Cuomo however, didn't rush to the changing room. Instead, he bounded off the set, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat from his neck as he made a beeline for me. "Dinner," Andrew announced, his amber eyes sparkling with an intensity that made several female assistants swoon. "You. Me. The finest steakhouse in the city. My treat. Consider it a tiny down payment on the life debt I owe you." The murmurs in the room ceased. Everyone, including a seething Ingrid, watched with bated breath. A Beta heir from a powerful Pack asking a lowly assistant out? It was unheard of. I closed the file in my hands with a sharp snap. "I'm afraid I have to decline, Mr. Cuomo. My shift isn't over, and I have a mountain of paperwork waiting on the executive floor." Andrew's face fell, resembling a kicked puppy. "Come on, Aurora. You're not ser
The Cursed Alpha Virgin Bride The Alpha's Assistant
The following morning, while I was eating breakfast, the elders of the Shadowclaw Pack arrived. Not long after, I was summoned to Alpha Draven’s study room. When I stepped inside, the room felt heavy with authority. The elders sat in silence while Alpha Draven stood behind his desk, his expression unreadable. They told me that starting from today, I would work as his personal assistant at Whitmore Group. I nodded and agreed, even though it was the last thing I wanted. The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the nerve center of the Whitmore Group. The Alpha's executive floor was a fortress of glass and steel, smelling of ozone, expensive cologne, and the underlying, sharp tang of high-stakes anxiety. I stepped out, my heels clicking rhythmically against the polished marble floor. Every head turned. I could feel their gazes curious, judgmental, predatory. But one scent cut through the sterile air like a knife: a cloying mixture of synthetic roses and bitter jealousy
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