The Cursed Alpha’s Fake Bride

*** Ariana’s POV

The lace of my wedding dress brushed the floor as mother gently pinned the last few strands of my unruly black locs in place. 

“At last,” she said, her voice sounding triumphant.

I stared at my reflection, trying to steady my breathing. The soft hum of the pack’s mind-link buzzed faintly in the background, the excitement of preparations for the ceremony building as my bridesmaids left to help welcome the guests.

"Your bridesmaids look beautiful," my mother said softly, standing behind me. "And you, my love... even more so."

I gave her a small smile, but the tightness in my chest wouldn’t ease. “They’ll be watching me,” I murmured. “Judging. I know what they think of me.”

Mom met my eyes in the mirror, her expression softening. "The Moon Goddess does everything for a reason, Ari. If she didn’t bless you with a wolf, then the destiny she has in store for you won’t need one." Her hand squeezed my shoulder gently. "The universe is always conspiring in our favor, even if it doesn’t feel like it sometimes."

I sighed, fiddling with the silver lace of my sleeves. “It’s not just the whispers, Mom.” I hesitated. “Ciaran... he has no family here.”

 Mira tilted her head, her gaze full of empathy. “He has you, Ariana. And that’s more than enough. He’s marrying the daughter of an Alpha—he’s making his own family with you.”

Her words were warm, but they couldn’t quite chase away the unease that had settled in my stomach. “I still want to see him,” I said, standing. “He picked out this dress. I need to reassure... him before the ceremony.”

Mother's brows furrowed slightly. “You know it’s against tradition to see him before the wedding.”

“I know, but...” I trailed off, fidgeting with the hem of my gown. “This is different. I’m different. It’s just…”

She let out a small sigh, but her lips curled into a soft smile. “You’ve always been stubborn. Go, if it will ease your heart. Just don’t keep him too long. The ceremony needs to begin.”

I nodded, grateful for her understanding, and made my way toward Ciaran’s chambers. My chest tightened with each step, the faint echo of my mother’s reassurance fading as I approached his door. I shouldn’t be nervous—I was about to marry the man I loved, my chosen mate.

My hand hovered over the handle, ready to turn it when a soft giggle filtered through the door.

“Baby, not now...” The sweet voice sent a chill down my spine. Elara.

“It's whenever I say,” came Ciaran's voice.

I froze, my fingers tightening around the handle. Every instinct screamed at me to leave, to pretend I hadn’t heard a thing. But something dark and heavy had already rooted me to the spot, urging me to confirm what I already dreaded. Slowly, carefully, I turned the handle and cracked the door open.

Through the small gap, I saw them.

It was Elara. My best and only friend since childhood, and also the bridesmaid who was supposed to witness my happiness today. I can’t believe she was having an affair with my fiancé. Why didn’t I notice any signs? 

Ciaran’s hands were under Elara’s skirt, pushing it up as he pressed his body into hers from behind. Her breathy giggles mixed with his possessive murmurs. They were both facing away from the door, her body nearly bent over the bed.

 "Later," Elara giggled, her voice teasing, playful. “You have to get to the ceremony.”

 “I’ll take you later too,” Ciaran growled lustfully, his voice dripping with possession.

 “How cliché can you be,” Elara teased.

My stomach twisted painfully, my breath frozen in my throat. I pushed the door open further, the soft creak catching their attention. Ciaran didn’t flinch, as if he didn’t care.

Elara’s head whipped around, her eyes going wide. She gasped, her hands trembling as she tried to push Ciaran away, but he held her there, as if it were nothing more than an inconvenience.

I stepped into the room, my legs heavy, my heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the rest of the world. The dress I had been so excited to show him now felt like a prison, the lace and silk clinging to me like chains.

"How long?" The words slipped from my lips, sharp and brittle, before I could stop them.

Elara stumbled back, her face pale, her hands flying up as if to shield herself. “Ariana,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I—”

"You what?" I snapped, my voice cold and steady. I wouldn’t let it shake. I couldn’t.

Ciaran released her, wiping the corners of his mouth, utterly unfazed. His eyes met mine, devoid of apology.

"You're not supposed to be here," he said flatly, as if I were the one interrupting something trivial.

Elara stepped closer, her hands trembling. “Ariana, please... it’s not—"

"Don’t." My voice was cold, final. “Just... don’t.”

Elara flinched, tears in her eyes. She looked so small, so pathetic. She had been my best friend. My only friend.

“I love him,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this.”

I turned my glare on Ciaran, hoping—no, waiting—for him to look ashamed. But instead, a smirk seemed to linger beneath his cold exterior.

Deep down, I had always known something wasn’t right. The nights when his kisses felt hollow, his smiles never reaching his eyes—how he always had an excuse, always disappearing without reason. I just didn’t want to believe it.

He had asked me to marry him. I didn’t trap him. I didn’t bribe him. Did he love Elara? Was she his destined mate?

I would have let Ciaran go if he wanted someone else. Why go through with the wedding?

Ciaran stepped forward, his tone softening. “Ariana, I never wanted to hurt you.” His voice was low, almost tender. “You mean something to me. You always have.”

I stared at him, my jaw clenched tight. “Obviously not enough, Ciaran,” I managed to spit out.

“I would have let you go,” I said, gesturing to Elara. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His face shifted. The gentle mask fell away, revealing something I’d ignored for too long—the indifference that had always lurked just beneath the surface.

“You never really cared,” I said, allowing myself to accept the truth I had feared for so long.

He shrugged, his voice hardening. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I never cared.” He paused, seeming to consider, “But your father’s fortune and pack… well, who wouldn’t want that.”

I took a step back, slowly backing out of the room, as his aura shifted—dark, dangerous, like a storm rolling in. 

Suddenly, a sharp cry cut through the mind-link. The pack flared with panic. My heart pounded, and I glanced at Elara. She had heard it too.

Gunshots echoed from outside, in the direction of the gardens, and the pack's warning came flooding in through the mind-link.

Rogues! We’re under attack!

Panicked voices shouted from every direction. My gaze snapped to Ciaran, but he didn’t move. He wasn’t alarmed. He almost seemed... satisfied.

I didn’t wait to see what he’d do next. I turned and fled, the sounds of chaos growing louder around me.