LOGIN“What?” Seraphina’s breath caught in her throat. This had to be some kind of nightmare.
“You heard me,” Ethan said, his voice calm but cutting. He walked over to the couch where Zara sat, extending his hand toward her. Without hesitation, Zara placed her delicate fingers into his strong grasp, a soft, triumphant smile spreading across her face. “Zara will be my Luna,” Alpha Ethan declared, wrapping an arm possessively around her waist. He watched Seraphina closely, revelling in her reaction. “Honestly, it’s a good thing the wedding was called off. You’re wolfless, after all.” His smirk deepened, his eyes cold and unforgiving. “At least Zara is an Omega. Not some weak, powerless woman who can’t even control her urges.” Each word was a dagger to Seraphina’s heart. The pain in her chest tightened as Ethan continued, throwing cruel insults her way. She couldn’t believe it. The same man who had cost her everything—her wolf, her future—was now standing before her, mocking her for it. The bitter irony was suffocating. Thirteen years ago, when they were just kids, Ethan and Seraphina had been inseparable. They shared a bond so deep it felt unbreakable. That day in the Wilson family stables should have been like any other. But then, raiders attacked. An arrow laced with Wolfsbane had been aimed directly at Ethan. Seraphina didn’t think. She acted. She knocked Ethan from his horse just in time. The arrow missed him—but it found her instead, sinking deep into her stomach. The poison nearly killed her. It took days before her father could find a doctor skilled enough to remove the arrow. But the damage was done. She lost her wolf. And worse, the wound left her barren. At sixteen, when others found strength in their wolves, she had nothing but emptiness. She had wept for the loss, but Ethan… had sworn to stay by her side. Now, he stood here, treating her like she was nothing. “I can’t believe you’re saying this to me, Alpha Ethan,” Seraphina whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. “I lost my wolf saving you. Have you forgotten?” She searched his eyes, desperate for a flicker of the boy who once cared for her, the boy who had once sworn under the full moon that he would marry her. For a moment, something flashed in his gaze—hesitation, maybe even guilt. Then it was gone. “You fool,” Ethan spat. “That was a lifetime ago. And tell me, why would I marry a woman who can never bear my children? You’re barren. Worthless.” Seraphina felt her heart shatter. Tears blurred her vision, but she refused to let them fall. Zara, meanwhile, smiled. “I begged Seraphina not to go out last night,” she said, feigning innocence. “She wore that tight, revealing dress and snuck off. I tried to stop her.” Seraphina’s jaw dropped in horror. “That’s a lie, Zara! You took me to that club—it was your idea!” “Shut up, you lying bitch!” Ethan’s slap came so fast that she barely had time to react. The force of it sent her crashing to the floor. A sharp pain exploded in her cheek as blood trickled from her nose. And her family did nothing. “Pack your things and get out of my house,” Alpha Kendrick, her father, ordered his voice void of emotion. “Please, Father,” Seraphina sobbed, clutching at his leg. “I have nowhere to go.” “Not my problem,” he said, shaking her off like she was dirt beneath his feet. “Father, I think she’s right,” Zara chimed in, pretending to look thoughtful. “Seraphina has no home. But she can still stay here… as a maid. At least she’ll have a roof over her head.” Seraphina stared at her sister in disbelief. “Zara, you’re such a kind soul,” Grandma Thalia said with a sickening smile. Then she turned to Seraphina. “You heard her. Stay as a maid, or leave.” Seraphina swallowed the lump in her throat. “I… I will stay.” “Good girl,” Grandma Thalia purred. “A wise decision.” Seraphina sat on the cold, hard floor, her back aching from hours of scrubbing clothes. The washing machine was off-limits to her. Grandma Thalia insisted she do everything by hand. Her hands, once delicate, were raw and cracked. Her fingers, once adorned with rings, were now bruised from endless labour. She had scrubbed the floors, cleaned the windows, washed the gutters—everything. And when exhaustion pulled at her, her bed was a bare floor in a tiny, windowless room in the maid’s quarters. She was dozing off when a loud knock startled her awake. Rubbing her sore eyes, she opened the door. “Your father wants you in the parlour,” Meg, a golden-haired maid, informed her. “What now?” Seraphina muttered, too tired for another task. “There’s a guest. You’re to bring him water.” Seraphina sighed, tied her long brown hair back, and made her way to the kitchen. She filled a glass and walked to the parlour. The moment she stepped inside, she froze. Sitting across from her father was a man unlike any she had ever seen. His piercing forest-green eyes locked onto her, his dark midnight hair framing a face both regal and powerful. He was enormous—his sheer presence commanding the room. But it wasn’t just his size or aura that made her heart pound. He was a Lycan Prince. And somehow, he felt familiar.“H… how do you mean, Your Majesty?” Seraphina’s voice came out small, almost swallowed by the cold night air. Her palms were damp, slick despite the chill that bit through her sleeves. She folded her fingers together as if that might still the strange flutter crawling under her skin.“There is something,” King Nicolas said slowly, as though choosing each word with care, “something about the two women I have ever loved, even though neither of them became queen. Zaya… and Seraphina.”He stopped walking. The garden lantern nearby flickered, throwing soft gold across his face as he reached for a bloom heavy with frost-kissed petals. He tugged one loose between his fingers, thoughtful, almost absent-minded.“They both looked soft,” he went on, eyes on the flower, voice low. “Like feathers that would scatter at the slightest wind. Yet they were anything but.” He crushed the petal gently between his thumb and forefinger. “Tough. Determined. Made of something far stronger than they let the wo
“Your Highness!”Seraphina startled, her foot slipping against the frost-hardened stone. For a breathless second, the world tilted. Then strong hands caught her by the waist, firm and steady, pulling her back from the brink.King Nicolas.He held her without hesitation, his grip sure, anchoring her as though the ground itself had reached up through him. Snowflakes drifted lazily around them, settling in her hair, melting against his cloak.Their eyes met.Her heart stuttered, then raced. His did the same, a treacherous leap he had not felt in years.Something ancient stirred in him. A sharp, unsettling sense of recognition. Her body fit too easily against his, her warmth too familiar. The softness beneath his palms awakened a memory he could not place, yet could not deny. A softness he had never felt in any other woman.Images invaded his mind without permission. Her without the layers of silk and fur. Her bare skin under moonlight. The thought lodged itself like a poisoned thorn, ref
Alexander did not look back.The moment the whip cracked again, tearing through cold air and flesh, he ran.His boots crushed frozen grass as his body shifted halfway, bones stretching beneath skin, muscles thickening, his wolf snarling just beneath the surface. The guards shouted behind him, startled, confused, but too slow. By the time they understood what was happening, Alexander was already there.He threw himself over Indra.The whip came down hard.It landed on his back with a wet, brutal sound.Indra screamed.Blood bloomed instantly, dark and vivid against his skin, the lash carving him open like meat on a butcher’s table. The guards froze, stunned. No one had ever done this. No one had ever dared.Seraphina stepped outside at that moment.She leaned her back against a stone pillar, arms crossing slowly over her chest as she watched.Alexander did not cry out. He took the second lash. Then the third.Each strike tore deeper.Her eyes narrowed.She had never seen Alexander sac
“Alexander… How dare you?” Seraphina’s voice cracked like wildfire, each word laced with anger and disbelief. Her hands trembled—not with fear, but with the raw intensity of her fury.Alexander’s gaze dropped instantly, yet he did not release her hand. His grip was firm but careful, as though letting go could undo something unspoken between them. The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to taste.Indra’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. She had no idea why the princess’s bodyguard was defending her. Every instinct screamed confusion, yet something in Alexander’s stance told her he would not yield—not to the princess, not to anyone.This was the second time she had seen him, and the second time his gaze had pierced through her like a knife wrapped in silk—intense, unwavering, stirring something in her that no man had ever managed before.“Let go of my hand, now!” Seraphina’s command sliced through the air. Her alpha authority rolled over the room like a storm
Mira slid into the empty seat beside Nicolas as though it had been saved for her all along.Her movement was smooth, deliberate. A woman claiming territory.A wide smile settled on her lips, practiced and confident, the kind that dared anyone to question her presence. She did not care that Nicolas turned to her with murder in his eyes. She did not care that his jaw tightened, that his shoulders stiffened.She had heard about the dinner earlier that evening, while passing through the servants’ corridor. The maids had been whispering as they chopped herbs and stirred pots, their voices hushed but excited. A private dinner. Prepared personally. For a princess.The words had slid into Mira’s ears and turned her blood to ice.Nicolas had not told her.He had planned to dine alone with a princess without her knowledge, without her presence, without her consent. Anger and jealousy surged inside her like a rising tide, hot and relentless, threatening to drown her reason.She had not confronte
Seraphina tossed the last dress onto the heaving pile on her bed. Her room looked like a battlefield of fabric—velvets, silks, and satins strewn across the floor in wild disarray. She sank onto the mattress with a heavy sigh, staring at the ceiling as though it might give her an answer.Why am I even worrying about this? she asked herself silently. Why am I trying so hard, when nothing will ever feel… right?A knock at the door snapped her from her thoughts. Her body stiffened.Dragging herself upright, she shuffled toward the door, each step reluctant, weighed down by exhaustion and indecision.Alexander’s face came into view the moment she opened it.“Can I come in?” His voice was calm, measured, but there was an edge she recognized—quiet authority, the kind that brooked no refusal.She hesitated. He was probably here to stop her from attending the dinner.“If this is about the dinner…” she started, crossing her arms.“It’s not,” he lied smoothly. He had come to dissuade her, yet d







