I Slept With the Alpha King, My Mate Lost His Mind
At the werewolf nation’s annual gala, I stood in front of dozens of reporters and said it straight to the cameras: tonight, I was going to sleep with the Alpha King.
They thought I was just running my mouth. Nobody took me seriously.
Nobody guessed I’d actually do it. The Alpha King had just come back from the front lines, wounded and weak, and I dragged him into a hotel room before anyone could stop me.
When his guards and the Werewolf Authority finally broke through the door, I didn’t run. I walked up to them and held out my wrists. “That’s right. I’m the one who took the Alpha King. Cuff me.”
Everyone thought I’d lost my mind. They had no idea this was exactly what I wanted.
In my previous life, my boyfriend’s childhood sweetheart Lyra killed the Greenmoor Pack Alpha’s daughter, and I took the fall.
Every piece of evidence pointed at me. I couldn’t talk my way out of it. I was exiled.
I was tortured to death in the wastelands. My father wasted away after losing me, slipped into depression, and our pack was swallowed up. My parents were dragged to the executioner’s block.
My soul stayed with them through all of it. I watched, and I couldn’t do a thing.
Just when I thought I’d break, a light flashed, and when I opened my eyes I was back — the day before Lyra committed the murder.
This time, I was going to prove my innocence to the whole pack.