Chapter 1

Danielle's POV

Why is my husband basically groping Kira? 

George, my husband of three years is shirtless with a tumbler of dark wine in one hand and Kira on the other. He presses her to his front and lowers his head to whisper something in her ear. 

Kira throws her head back and giggles loudly, her palms flat on his naked chest. She is younger than I by at least half a decade, having just turned eighteen two days ago. She wears a short, backless dress, and George looks down at her like she's the center of his world. A look that has never been directed my way. 

Kira rises up to her tiptoes and whispers something back into George's ear, which causes him to gaze down at her with a stupid love-struck look on his face. I have never seen George this carefree or happy. At least not with me. 

Witnessing all this wouldn't have hurt as much as it currently does if we weren't surrounded by all our pack members. Most of whom are casting me glances with pity in their eyes. But we're all used to this scene by now, and most of them don't even bat an eye as they watch their Alpha and my husband acting all lovey-dovey with his mistress. 

I bow my head down to the ground, shame blooming within me. It's one thing to know that your husband has a mistress, and it's another thing to have his affair blatantly shoved into your face. 

I look away from them and drag my feet over to the side bar where I proceed to order two glasses of hard liquor and chug them down like they're water and I've been stuck in the desert for days. I order two more, down one in one go, and nurse the other as my gaze drifts back to my husband and Kira. 

The urge to march over there and slap George across his face is very strong, but that scenario is never going to pan out well for me, no matter which way I think about it. So I stay on my stool, nursing my drink while shooting daggers at the couple dancing and twirling around each other. 

A heavy sigh leaves my lips and I stand up, ready to get away from their line of sight before I end up doing something that I might regret. 

Of course, I take a bottle of beer with me because it's the only thing that's going well for me in this cursed pack. Cuddling the bottle to my chest, I stagger away from the party and into the dark woods. 

I never wanted to marry George and I can definitely say that he felt the same way about me. But my father, the beta of the pack, and his father, the alpha of the pack, felt like the coming together of their children would be a match made in heaven. Despite our complaints, they forced us down the aisle and we exchanged vows, binding us together as husband and wife. 

My reasons for not wanting to marry George didn't stray from not knowing much about him and also not wanting to be bound to someone who obviously despises me. George's reasons for not wanting to be bound to me were more vast. It could have been the fact that I never got my wolf at eighteen and had since been nicknamed the Wolfless girl or it could be because I look nothing like the other girls he usually went for. Or it could be the fact that he has been trying for an heir ever since we got married, but every period that I've seen brings a new wave of disappointment and more blame thrown at me. He thinks I'm barren and after many failed attempts at trying to get pregnant, I'm actually starting to believe him. 

"I hate him!" I scream out into the dark, silent woods, and my voice travels far, echoing in the woods. I'm not afraid of someone hearing me because everyone will be back at the party, celebrating our victory against the rogue attack we experienced. A rogue attack that we would have never come out victorious from if not for the help of the Lycan King. He extended a quarter of his army to us and it was only through their assistance that we defeated the rogues. 

Everyone is getting wasted and high. Nobody is thinking about what the Lycan king will ask for in return because his assistance is never gotten for free. He always gets something back in return. It's why he got the name of the Heartless King. 

I put those thoughts to the back of my mind because they aren't my issue to deal with. It's George's problem. I might be his Luna but I've since learnt not to interfere with the affairs of the pack. It never ends well for me.

I try to kick a stone on the ground and nearly land on my ass when my drunk self miscalculate the distance of the stone. How pathetic. Even that can't go well for me. Another screams slides out of me. 

"Stop yelling, you fool." A deep, husky voice groans out from behind me, clearly annoyed. 

I whip around so fast that I nearly get whiplash. The tall, dark figure before me has broad shoulders, thick arms, and even through his clothes, I can make out the abs that he has. 

I manage to tear my gaze away from the outline his distracting physique and back to his face, which isn't a much better choice than gazing at his body because even though it's currently dark as fuck, I can still see that it's a handsome face. Thanks to my lack of werewolf senses, I can't really make out most of his features but the little that I can see let me know that the man standing before me is conventionally handsome. 

Then the realization that he could be a rogue suddenly hits me and I stiffen. After all, we just finished murdering a bunch of rogues and their friends could come for a retaliation at any time.

"W-who are you?" I stutter, taking a step back in the direction that I just came from. It was stupid to come alone into these woods when we just had a rogue attack. 

The stranger steps closer to me, the faint moonlight painting an enchanting hue around him and his head cocks to the side, disbelief in his eyes as he takes me in. 

"It's you," He whispers.