Alpha's Regret: The Hybrid's Royal Contract
For years, Elara Park endured being called "half-breed" and "weak blood" at pack meetings. Because she was a hybrid wolf, she trusted Zack Blackwood's sweet promises.
Then he rejected their fated mate bond moments after claiming her body.
Before she could even breathe through the soul-crushing agony, the news was already celebrating his engagement to her vindictive stepsister, Selina. The headlines gushed about their "perfect pureblooded union."
Her mother's call came like a final blow: "Elara, you're twenty-three now. It's time you contributed to the family."
Marry the worthless second son of a prominent Alpha family or lose her father's empire forever. They had her trapped, ready to steal her birthright and leave her powerless.
But as the heartbreak bled out, ice-cold determination took its place.
Elara went to the arranged meeting at the city's most exclusive club, determined to turn her mother's matchmaking scheme to her advantage. She would agree to marriage-but on her own terms.
When she found who she believed was Damian Sterling in the private suite, she cut straight to business: a contract marriage with clear boundaries, separate lives, and a guaranteed escape route.
What she didn't know? The devastatingly dangerous man who'd just signed her contract with a predator's smile wasn't the pathetic playboy she expected.
He was Dominic Wolfe-the Alpha King who'd been relentlessly hunting her for years.
And now, she'd just signed herself over to him completely.
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Chapter 3
Author's POV
Dominic Wolfe had hunted enemies across borders, crushed rebellions before breakfast, and once made three Alpha councils kneel with nothing but a raised eyebrow.
Yet the woman sitting beside him in the car had nearly undone him with a contract and a mouth sharp enough to draw blood.
Elara Park stared out the window, spine straight, chin high, one hand resting protectively over the document in her bag. She believed she had married Damian Sterling.
Dominic should have corrected her.
He did not.
His wolf paced inside him, furious and delighted.
[Mine.]
Dominic tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
[Not yet.]
The wolf snarled.
[She is wounded. Another male rejected her. He touched what was ours and threw her away.]
Dominic's jaw clenched so hard the muscle jumped.
He knew.
He had known Elara for three years, though she had not known him at all.
The first time he saw her, he had been leaving Alpha Academy after a lecture no one had enjoyed but everyone had pretended to understand. He was already bored, already irritated by elders whispering about heirs and royal bloodlines.
Then her scent hit him.
Bergamot and rain.
Clean. Bright. Defiant.
His wolf had gone still for one impossible second, then slammed against his ribs with such force Dominic nearly shifted in public.
He turned and saw her near the academy steps, laughing at something Zack Blackwood said.
Even then, Dominic had disliked him. The boy smelled like polished ambition and hidden cowardice.
Elara had looked at Zack with warmth. Trust. Hope.
Dominic had almost crossed the courtyard anyway.
But he was the Alpha King, last awakened Lycan royal on the continent. Every move he made carried political consequences. If he openly pursued a young hybrid already bonded to another Alpha heir, the packs would turn her into prey.
So he watched.
He told himself he was protecting her.
His wolf had called him a liar for three years.
Now fate had delivered her into his suite with a marriage contract and a bruised heart.
Dominic glanced at her.
Elara felt his gaze and narrowed her eyes. "Do you always stare at your business partners like you're deciding where to bury them?"
His mouth twitched. "Only the interesting ones."
A mindlink snapped open.
Owen, his Beta.
[Alpha, the council discovered the fertility arrangements. They know you lied about the women they sent.]
Dominic almost sighed.
The council.
Of course.
Just yesterday, twelve elders had filled the royal hall, faces tight with panic. They had spoken of bloodlines, enemies, continental stability, and the danger of a king without an heir.
"You are thirty," the Chief Elder had said, as if Dominic had misplaced the number. "You are the only awakened Lycan royal bloodline in North America. If you die without an heir, the royal line dies with you."
Another elder had slammed his fist on the stone table. "Our enemies are watching. Without a royal heir, the European Lycan houses will challenge us within months."
Dominic had sat on the throne, bored enough to count the cracks in the marble.
His wolf had muttered, [Tell them you found her.]
[No.]
[Then tell them to choke on their bloodline charts.]
[Tempting.]
When the elders pushed too hard, Dominic finally stood.
His Lycan aura rolled through the hall like a storm. Twelve powerful wolves dropped their eyes within seconds.
"My mate," Dominic had said softly, "will not be chosen by committee. My heir will not be bred like livestock. If any elder here finds that difficult to accept, I can arrange retirement. Permanently."
No one spoke after that.
Now Owen's voice buzzed with alarm.
[Alpha, did you hear me? They know.]
[I found my Luna,] Dominic replied.
Silence.
Then Owen choked. [You what?]
[There is one complication.]
[Please define complication in a way that does not shorten my life.]
[She thinks she married Damian Sterling.]
Another silence.
[Alpha.]
[Yes?]
[Why?]
Dominic glanced at Elara again. She was pretending not to listen, but her eyes had sharpened. Clever little wolf. Even without access to the mindlink, she sensed tension.
[Because she came looking for him,] Dominic said. [And because if I introduced myself as Dominic Wolfe, Alpha King, the man who has been watching over her for three years, she would stab me with the contract pen and escape through a window.]
Owen sounded pained. [That is... not impossible.]
[Keep Damian Sterling away for one week. Quietly. Make sure his family believes he is unavailable.]
[Unavailable how?]
[Creatively.]
[Understood. And the council?]
[Tell them I am handling the heir issue.]
[That will make them worse.]
[Then smile while they suffer.]
Dominic ended the link.
Elara turned toward him. "Problem?"
"Nothing you need to worry about."
Dominic laughed before he could stop himself.
He couldn't wait to see her face when she found out. First shock. Then confusion. Then recognition. When her wolf finally recognized him.
Soon, the whole werewolf world would know who Elara Park belonged to.
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8.7
Ada was eight months pregnant, sitting peacefully in her husband's Manhattan estate, looking at a baby nursery catalog.
Suddenly, her husband's mistress, Jacklyn, walked in, threw an ultrasound photo on the table, and locked the door.
Before Ada could process the betrayal, Jacklyn dragged her to the top of the marble staircase and threw herself backward just as Desmond walked through the front doors.
"She pushed me, Desmond! She tried to kill our baby!"
Desmond looked at Ada with absolute hatred.
He ignored Ada's breaking water and her agonizing screams for help, leaving her to miscarry on the freezing floor while he rushed Jacklyn to the hospital.
He sent Ada to a brutal federal prison for three years, where she was tortured and left with a body covered in horrific scars, mourning the baby she was told died at birth.
When Ada was finally released, Desmond destroyed her cousin's company to force her back to his estate as a lowly maid.
But when Ada saw Jacklyn's three-year-old son, her world stopped.
Right in the center of the little boy's palm was a faint crescent moon birthmark.
It was the exact same mark Ada had kissed on her own lifeless baby's tiny hand before the doctors took his body away.
How did her dead child become Jacklyn's little prince?
Looking at the woman who stole her life and the husband who threw her in hell, Ada clenched her scarred hands and swore she would tear their world apart to get her son back.
7.2
I thought I was just marrying a middle-class commercial pilot who proposed to me in a Brooklyn cemetery to fulfill his grandmother's bizarre dying wish.
But when an arrogant pilot tried to harass me at the airport, my "ordinary" husband suddenly appeared, his eyes like chips of ice.
"Take your hand off my wife."
With that single cold command, he had the airline's top executives groveling and the man practically fired on the spot.
Everyone called him "Mr. Chandler." He handed me an exclusive black Centurion card, claiming it was just a standard "manager's perk." His retired parents, who supposedly ran a small business, visited me wearing Patek Philippe watches. I ignored all the glaring red flags, foolishly believing I had just lucked into a stable, caring marriage after a lifetime of disappointments.
Yet, despite his constant, suffocating generosity, he kept a physical wall between us. After a kiss so desperate and hungry it felt like he had been starving for it his entire life, he violently pushed me away.
"We should take this slow."
I couldn't understand why a man who looked at me with such intense, possessive devotion would treat our marriage like a sterile business deal. Why was he orchestrating every perfect detail of my life while refusing to even share a bed with me?
I had no idea that the man sleeping in the guest room wasn't a pilot at all. He was Harmon Chandler, the ruthless billionaire emperor of the Chandler Group. And he had been secretly monitoring my every move for ten years.
9.2
The camera flashes felt like a firing squad, dragging me back to the night I lost my baby five years ago. My husband, Faron, sat in the front row, his hand on his mistress Kassie’s thigh, utterly ignoring my public humiliation. This was the thirtieth time he’d made me a joke, and it would be the last.
For three years, I played the dutiful Blackwell wife, shielding Faron from his endless affairs.
At a press conference, a reporter’s question about his yacht booking with Kassie shattered my facade. Faron, smiling at his mistress, completely ignored me. The last filter I viewed him through instantly shattered.
Later, Kassie deliberately spilled champagne on me at a gala. Faron, instead of helping, tenderly wiped it from her.
She hissed, "Faron said you just lay there. Fucking you is like fucking a dead fish."
This venomous taunt, after thirty public betrayals, snapped my sanity.
Chained by my mother-in-law's threats, my pain was expected. My silence demanded. But I was finally done.
With a cold, empty void, I slammed the folder shut. I dropped the family crest.
"Have a wonderful evening, Faron," I said, turning and walking out. I left him and his suffocating charade behind.
8.8
"Fuck...please..."
He risks a nibble, sending shockwaves to my core. My back arches off the wall with a sharp moan.
His hand slides between my legs, cupping my soaking panties.
"Look how wet you are," he whispers, "...shaking, and I haven't even fucked you yet."
He strokes my clit gently first, then harder. My toes curl, hair spilling into my sweaty face.
He's breaking me, ruining me with just his tongue and fingers. I can't speak. I can't think. I just tremble in his arms.
*********
The night I caught my fiancé cheating, something in me broke.
I cried.
I screamed.
I drove - into the rain, into nowhere, into him.
Cassian Cross.
A stranger with gray eyes, a sinful mouth, and hands that made me forget my name.
One night was all it took. One reckless mistake to burn away my heartbreak.
Until he showed up at my mom's wedding...
As my new stepbrother.
Now, Cassian won't stop.
He corners me in hallways, whispers filth at the altar, and looks at me like he still owns my body.
But there's one thing he didn't tell me-
He already belongs to someone else.
A fiancée bound to him by a contract... and a secret that could destroy us both.
He's dangerous.
He's forbidden.
He's promised to another.
And God help me, I still can't stop wanting him.
8.5
Cecile jolted awake from months of prescription haze, only to realize she was trapped in a live reality show designed to destroy her.
Her billionaire husband had orchestrated the broadcast to publicly humiliate her and elevate his own PR image. He ordered her to follow a degrading script. What was worse, her five-year-old son, Damien, was genuinely terrified of her. When an empty wine bottle rolled across the floor, the tiny boy instantly threw his arms over his head, bracing for a hit.
The production crew shoved microphones into the trembling child's face, trying to trigger his trauma for ratings. The live chat cursed Cecile as a toxic abuser. The show's golden girl maliciously tried to poach Damien on camera to prove Cecile was an unfit mother. The crew even rigged the game, forcing Cecile and her son into a freezing, rotting mud shack with a collapsed roof. They were all just waiting for her to break down and beg.
"A toxic woman like you doesn't deserve to be a mother."
The crew read the hateful comments aloud, expecting a hysterical meltdown. The realization that she had been manipulated into destroying her own child hit Cecile like a physical blow. How could a father subject his own son to this public cruelty?
The weak, easily manipulated Cecile was dead. She threw the PR script away, rolled up her sleeves, and picked up a rusted hammer. This time, she would protect her son and tear down anyone who stood in her way.
8.3
With twelve dollars in my bank account and a freezing apartment, my friend forced me into a velvet dress to attend an exclusive underground party for free food.
But the night quickly turned into a nightmare when a drunk thug attacked me, nearly strangling me to death in a dark hallway.
Just as my lungs burned for air, a terrifying man stepped out of the shadows and shattered my attacker's bones. He was Axel Carrillo, the billionaire owner of the club. But instead of feeling safe, my blood ran cold. His dark, dead eyes perfectly mirrored the wealthy monster who had abused and locked me in a basement years ago. He trapped me in his VIP room, surrounding me with the elite crowd that openly mocked my poverty.
I didn't understand why this ruthless billionaire was looking at me like a predator watching its prey. I had barely escaped the nightmare of the rich once; I wasn't going to let another powerful man own my life.
Faking a twisted ankle, I stumbled forward, falling directly into his chest.
In less than a second, I expertly slipped the thick money clip and custom leather wallet from his pocket, grabbed my broken stilettos, and ran blindly into the freezing night.
I used his crisp hundred-dollar bills to pay my overdue rent, locking his silver-crested wallet in my desk drawer. What I didn't know was that Axel had let me steal it, smiling in the dark as he whispered to his security.
"Let her keep the bait."