All Chapters of The Sickly Alpha's Amber Bride: Chapter 1 - Chapter 9

"Clean faster, you wolfless freak!" The heavy boot of my father’s Beta slammed down onto my hands, pressing my fingers into the shattered shards of the glass vase I was trying to gather. The dark, dense liquid of the aconite tonic I had spent the entire night distilling for Healer Knox now mingled with my own blood.The blood began to pool on the marble floor of the main hall, but I didn't scream. I just swallowed my tears and the pain. All my hard work as the pack healer's assistant, trying to prove my worth through medicine since I didn't have a wolf, had been ruined in a single second when I tripped.Yesterday, I turned eighteen. It should have been the most important day of my life, the day my wolf would finally awaken and I would experience my first shift. But midnight came and went in absolute silence inside my mind. Nothing happened. I was a freak, a broken human living among wolves.So, what my father and Healer Knox had told me was actually true: I was going to pay for my mot

The tall warrior opened the car door, and I stepped out cautiously, clutching the strap of my canvas backpack tightly against my chest. I expected the worst. In Bleakwood, whenever I entered a new environment, it was accompanied by shoves, shouts, or insults. But here, the silence that settled among the members of the Ambervalley pack moving through the gardens was different. No one moved to attack me. Instead, the looks I received were heavy with shock and a strange solidarity.Walking through those gardens was my first great shock. The contrast with the place I used to call "home" was almost painful. Bleakwood was a gray, cold, sterile land, where the ground felt like frozen mud and the tree branches were dry as black claws—fitting for the man who ruled it. Here, however, everything overflowed with life. Perfectly green lawns stretched beneath massive trees whose leaves shimmered in rich hues of gold, copper, and amber under the sunlight. The gentle warmth radiating from the sky see

"No," her voice sounded small, yet it carried a firmness that caught me off guard. She took a step back, pressing that old notebook against her chest with trembling, visibly battered hands. "You might hold my destiny in your hands because of this treaty, but this is mine. You will not touch it."I narrowed my eyes, feeling the weight of the silence that settled beneath the glass walls of the pavilion. For months, I had lived cooped up here, feigning weakness in this wheelchair to make my cousin Julian and the traitors on the Council lower their guard. I was used to dealing with greedy wolves and arrogant generals, but this girl... she was breaking me from the inside out in a way I couldn't control.The split second she crossed the threshold and our eyes met, Fenrir, my inner wolf, awakened with a fierce, deafening howl inside my mind, clawing at my mental barriers with relentless talons. Mate! She is ours! Fenrir roared in my chest, inciting me to leap from this damned chair, take her

"She is not a threat, Demetri," Logan's voice broke the silence of my anteroom. My Beta was standing near the window, observing the inner courtyard while I remained in the wheelchair, staring at the untouched chessboard in front of me. "I guided her from the car to this place. Her heart was terrified, but clean. The scent emanating from that girl was of pure terror, not mockery or political malice. Richard discarded her like one discards something of no value. It seemed as though he was relieved to do so. I've never seen anything like it. How does one discard their own blood like that?""Richard is a calculating pig, Logan," I hissed, tapping my fingers on the wooden armrest of the chair. Fenrir was pacing back and forth in my mind, restless, growling every time I tried to rationalize the situation. I shifted my gaze from the board and locked eyes with my childhood friend, letting the cold mask slip for a fraction of a second. "But the problem is much worse than a simple political tra

My hands shook so violently that it took three frustrated attempts just to button my worn pair of jeans. That simple movement, which I used to perform automatically every single day in my cubicle back in Bleakwood, transformed into pure torture under the friction of the rough fabric rubbing against the raw, weeping flesh of my injured palms. The gray oversized shirt covered my torso, but the skin of my chest still felt as if it were burning beneath the fabric, leaving my nipples painfully sensitive, rigid, and hardened. I could hear the mechanical sound of Alpha Demetri's wheelchair moving in the adjoining anteroom, deliberately turning his back to me to respect my space and privacy. He was waiting.I approached the low table near the unlit fireplace with slow, halting, and heavy steps, like someone walking toward their own scaffold. I sat in one of the upholstered chairs, forcing my body to maintain an artificially rigid posture and my chin held high, desperately trying to camouflage