All Chapters of My Ex Sold Me To The Devil: Chapter 1 - Chapter 6

LioraEight months pregnant!I chuckled, tracing the tight, swollen curve of my belly. I raised my chin and looked at myself in the rearview mirror, a massive smile spreading across my cheeks. I was finally giving an heir to my mate. I was finally going to be a true Luna for the Alpha. Kaelen was finally going to love and cherish me!"Luna Liora, we have arrived," the pack driver announced calmly as the car rolled to a halt in front of the mansion.I exited the vehicle, practically buzzing with excitement as I made my way to the packhouse steps. After years of miscarriages, endless bruising injections, and agonizing fertility treatments, I finally got to break the news: our pup was strong, and ready to be birthed in just a few weeks.I soon made it into the foyer. But something seemed off. Where was everyone? The maids? The guards? Beta Thorne? Where was my mate? Why was the packhouse eerily empty? After being quarantined in the pack’s clinic for over two weeks, shouldn't someone be

‘Mine.’The single word slammed into my chest like a physical blow.When Kaelen rejected me, just moments ago, the severing of our bond felt like a rusted blade dragging through my soul, leaving me hollowed out and dying. Typical werewolf reprisal to a severed bond. But this? This was a supernova.A rush of pure, liquid heat exploded from the base of my spine, racing through my veins and melting the ice in my blood. The excruciating pain in my ripped abdomen dulled for a fraction of a second, completely swallowed by the intoxicating, heavy scent. Dark chocolate. Crushed cedar. And the sharp, electric tang of a looming thunderstorm. I could feel it so deep in my bones.My wolf screamed in recognition. She slammed against my ribs so hard I nearly doubled over.I slapped her back down."I…" The words scraped up through my raw, bleeding throat. I forced them out anyway. "I am not anyone's anything. I belong to no one!" I slapped his hand away, almost immediately regretting it.The King’s

LioraI woke up in a bed.That sounds like the smallest, most unremarkable thing. But after three years of a husband who monitored my pillow count and two weeks on a clinic cot with straps on my wrists, the weight of a real mattress beneath me — thick and warm and clean — felt so foreign it triggered a spike of pure, animal panic before my brain caught up to my body.‘You are not in the clinic. You are not in the packhouse.’ I went perfectly still and took stock.Stone ceiling, arched and ancient, twice the height of any room I'd ever slept in. A fireplace the size of a small doorway burned amber and gold in the far wall. The room smelled of old cedar and mountain cold.My abdomen screamed when I tried to sit up. I bit down on my lip and pushed through it, getting one elbow under me, then the other, until I was upright against the carved headboard, panting.Then I looked right.He was there.My son was tucked in a cradle beside my bed — a proper cradle, dark polished wood with carved