Alyssa J
I was twenty-two when my luck went bad.
A flowerpot came off a third-floor ledge while I was walking under it. My brother Julian shoved me clear and took it on the head. Wolves heal from almost anything. The doctors told my parents he would never wake up.
A month later, my sister Felicity rode with me to visit him. A truck ran the light. Her leg was crushed in four places, and it never healed right.
A witch passing through Greyridge took one look at me across the pack meeting and told my Alpha father, in front of everyone, that I would bury whoever stood closest to me.
He threw me out that same night.
But my fiancé did not give up on me.
The most powerful witch in the entire country said that as long as I remained alone on the island, I would not be affected by the curse.
So he bought me an island.
Five years. Nothing bad happened to me in all that time.
The only thing was, Dominic had a pack to run, so I got him two or three days a month.
I tried to go to him.
But the boat docked fine. A car hit mine on the way to the airport and I spent two weeks in a hospital bed.
"Mer, I'm scared every time you leave this island." His voice was shaking. "I can't lose you. I'll come more often. I swear."
I missed him so much I couldn't sleep. I told myself to be good about it anyway.
This year, he said a project would keep him away on his birthday.
So I got on a boat without telling anyone. I wanted to see his face.
The crossing was smooth.
When I reached the Stonecrest pack house, the main doors opened.
My sister walked in, wearing a couture gown, holding Dominic's arm.
Felicity.
On both legs.
Two she-wolves beside my pillar were watching them too.
"Five years mated, a three-year-old pup, and look at them. Still like that."
"Alpha Cross never so much as looks at another woman. You won't find another one like him in any pack."
A little boy in a tiny copy of Dominic's suit came running through the doors with his arms up.
"Daddy! Happy birthday!"
My hands went cold.
Every accident had been bought. Every witch had been paid. Even my mating certificate was a fake.
So I walked out of that hospital alone, got on the first plane I could find, and had every trace of me erased.
Three years later, I walked into a ballroom wearing nine figures around my neck, under a name he'd never heard.
Dominic Cross crushed a glass in his fist and begged for one more chance.