All Chapters of Mooncursed: Fated to the Alphas: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The scent hit me first, as I closed the distance to his room. Musky. Familiar. Laced with heat, arousal and something feral. My wolf whimpered low in my chest, a warning I didn’t understand my feet halted in front of the door, taking in the sounds that was coming from the room. I pushed open the bedroom door. Then everything shattered. My stepsister was straddling him, head thrown back, golden hair a tangled mess. The man beneath her grunted, hands gripping hips with bruising force as he thrust up hard, a low growl of pleasure rumbling from his chest. Skin against skin. Sweat glistening. Their bodies tangled together in heat and undeniable passion. The man with his hands all over my stepsister was my mate. My chosen Mate Caius. He didn’t stop when I entered. Neither of them did. They saw me, he saw me and still, he kept going. “Oh gods,” her voice cracked, as her shoulders began to tremble, reaching that point where every woman desires to be. The moan, sound of

The bonfire blazed high, licking at the night sky, its heat oppressive and cruel. The scent of burning cedar, sweet wine, and wolf musk rolled thick through the clearing. The crowd was restless with excitement, faces lit in orange glow, eyes bright with hunger for the spectacle about to unfold. I stood among them, invisible as always, but this time the weight of my invisibility crushed me. My heart beat too loud in my chest, every thud like a hammer driving me further into despair. Caius stood at the center, dressed in ceremonial black trimmed with silver. His dark hair gleamed in the firelight, his jaw proud, his shoulders squared. He looked like every dream I had once wrapped around myself like a blanket. But tonight, every inch of him belonged to her. Liana. She stepped forward in scarlet silk, the fabric flowing like blood down her perfect body. Jewels glittered in her hair, catching the firelight, her lips curved into that victorious smile that had haunted me since las

“She’s a wolf, Darius. She can’t possibly be your mate.” One of the soldier’s voice cut through the night air, harsh and defiant, but it barely registered to me. My pulse was roaring in my ears, louder than the crackle of the campfire, louder than the rattle of my cage. Mate. That was what he’d said. The word still hung in the air like a brand, burning through me. My heart lurched painfully inside my chest, and my wolf, the weak, broken thing that she was—stirred restlessly against my ribs, as though answering some silent call. Darius didn’t flinch. His eyes, molten gold under the firelight, stayed locked on me. He didn’t even look at the soldier who had dared to question him. He just inhaled again, sharp, deliberate, and the air around us shifted. “She is mine,” he growled, each syllable vibrating with a dangerous certainty. The two soldiers exchanged looks. One of them, the taller one with scars running down his jaw, probably his Beta from the looks of the fort name call

The bathwater had been scalding, yet I hadn’t minded. For the first time in days, the heat soaked into my aching muscles, peeling away the grime of travel, the dried blood that still clung faintly to my skin. I scrubbed until my body was raw, until I felt like I was decent enough. When I stepped from the bath, steam curling around me, , I peered into the room hoping that Darius was no longer in and thankfully he wasn’t. The closet waiting in the corner drew my eyes. Dresses hung in perfect rows, silks and lace in shades of black, crimson, and silver. I hesitated, fingers brushing the fabric. They were far too fine for me, meant for a woman of standing, not a servant. But something inside whispered to wear them anyway. I chose a gown of dark wine-red lace that clung to my body and bared my shoulders. Too revealing. . Yet when I saw myself in the mirror, pale throat exposed, eyes ringed with shadows, something in me straightened. I pulled my hair up in a messy bun showing my throa

I forced myself out of the water, hands trembling slightly as I dressed. The closet was filled with silks and velvets far richer than anything I had ever worn in my old pack, yet my fingers settled on a soft cream dress, modest but clinging in places I wished it wouldn’t. I tied the sash around my waist, trying not to think about whether I was dressing for myself… or for them. By the time I made my way down the grand staircase, I could already feel it, the tension. It rolled like smoke through the corridors, thick and stifling. The dining hall doors opened, and three pairs of eyes lifted toward me. Darius sat slouched in his chair, jaw tight, one hand fisted around his fork. Draven sat tall, rigid, every line of his body carved from stone, though his gaze followed me like a blade. And Daemon—Daemon leaned lazily against the far end of the table, a wicked smirk curving his lips as though he already knew how my pulse stuttered at the sight of him. “Good morning, Rain, it’s good to