Claimed by the Disguised Alpha King
My brother and his wife slapped the contract on the table, forcing me to marry Alpha Stone. He was a cruel monster known for breaking his mates' bones, and I was just the price for a new trade route.
Right before I surrendered, the legendary Blackwood Pack arrived. But they didn't offer a glorious rescue. They claimed I was the fated mate of Kaelan, a disgraced, wolfless Omega.
My family laughed in my face, eagerly taking the dowry and throwing me out like garbage. They mocked my miserable future, sending me off to a crumbling shack in the woods. When they later summoned us back to publicly demand a humiliating "tribute" to bleed us dry, they waited for me to break.
"Couldn't handle life in a shack with an Omega? Come crawling back already?" my sister-in-law sneered.
But I refused to let them shame him. I didn't understand why the Moon Goddess gave me an Omega, but Kaelan was kind, giving me the only bed while he slept on the cold floor. Why did my family value a cruel Alpha over a gentle soul? I declared to their faces that his loyal spirit was worth more than any title.
Then, a vicious rogue wolf threatened us at the local market.
My "wolfless" husband stepped in front of me and grabbed the rogue's wrist.
Suddenly, a suffocating, terrifying Alpha King's aura exploded from Kaelan, bringing the rogue to his knees in pure terror.
I stared at my quiet, supposedly weak mate in absolute shock. Who exactly did I marry?
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Chapter 5
Elara Vance POV:
In the days that followed, a quiet rhythm settled over our lives. I cleaned the small cabin until it shone, placing a jar of wildflowers on the windowsill to bring a bit of color to the spartan room. It started to feel less like a shelter and more like a home.
Kaelan was a silent but steady presence. He would leave at dawn to hunt, always returning with enough fresh meat to keep us fed. We didn't talk much, but we moved around each other with an easy, unspoken understanding.
One afternoon, he returned from the hunt to find me standing by the door, my arms crossed, a worried frown on my face.
"Faye sent a messenger," I told him, my voice tight. "She demands we present ourselves at the Vance house to receive our 'pack tribute'."
Kaelan's eyes, usually so calm, flashed with a cold light. He knew as well as I did this wasn't about tribute. It was about humiliation.
"Do we have to go?" I asked, dread coiling in my stomach. "You know they're just planning to make a scene."
He set down the rabbits he'd caught and looked at me, his expression firm. "We are mates. We will face our pack responsibilities together. We'll go." His confidence was a balm to my own fear.
The living room at the Vance house was set up like a stage for a public execution. Faye and Clara sat like queens on the sofa, with a handful of other pack members gathered to watch the show.
"Oh, look who decided to show up," Clara chirped, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "I was beginning to think you were too ashamed to leave your little hovel in the woods."
Faye gestured to a pack warrior, who brought forward a heavy, iron-bound chest and dropped it on the floor with a loud thud.
"As per pack tradition," Faye announced, her voice dripping with false authority, "newly bonded pairs must offer a tribute to their Alpha to show their loyalty and earn their place."
This was a lie. It was a blatant shakedown, a rule she had invented on the spot to extort and shame us.
I felt my body tremble with rage. Lyra snarled in my mind, wanting to be let out, to rip the smug looks off their faces. I was about to scream at them when Kaelan placed a firm hand on my shoulder, a silent command to be still.
He stepped forward, his gaze level and calm. "What is the tribute?"
Clara answered, practically shouting. "Given your… combined status, you will provide double the standard hunter's share to the pack stores each month. And Kaelan will turn over half of any earnings he makes. For the pack's protection, of course."
The other pack members shifted uncomfortably, whispering amongst themselves. The terms were impossibly harsh, designed to bleed us dry.
Faye stared at me, a cruel, triumphant smile on her face. This was her victory lap, her way of showing me the price of choosing a 'worthless' Omega.
My control was slipping. But before I could lunge, my own voice surprised me. It was clear and strong, ringing through the tense silence.
I didn't look at Faye or Clara. I looked at Kaelan, my mate, and my voice filled with a pride I didn't know I possessed.
"My mate, Kaelan," I began, my words slow and deliberate, "may not hold a high rank in your eyes. But he possesses a wealth you could never comprehend."
Clara laughed her ugly, barking laugh. "Wealth? Do you mean that collapsing shack you call a home?"
I shook my head, a small, confident smile touching my lips. "No. I mean his spirit. He has a spirit that is loyal, and kind, and respectful. That is more valuable than any Alpha title or piece of land."
I finally turned my gaze to Faye, my eyes hard as stone. "The Moon Goddess chooses our mates based on the strength of our souls, not the rank of our wolves. By demanding this tribute, are you questioning her divine wisdom?"
The accusation hung in the air. To question the Goddess was heresy. Faye's face turned a blotchy, ugly red.
I felt Kaelan stiffen beside me. I risked a glance at him and saw pure shock on his face. His carefully constructed mask had slipped. He had expected me to be ashamed of him, I realized—perhaps everyone had. Instead, here I was, in front of everyone, declaring his soul priceless.
Before Faye could recover, Kaelan took my hand, his grip firm and warm. "Our tribute is our loyalty to the Goddess," he said, his voice a low growl. "We're leaving."
He pulled me toward the door, and we walked out into the bright afternoon sun, leaving a room full of stunned silence behind us. He didn't let go of my hand. For the first time, I knew his touch wasn't just for show. It was real.
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8.4
Ayleen Avery was just a struggling hotel worker trying to survive her shift. But during a sudden blackout, she accidentally stumbled into the pitch-black VIP suite of a ruthless billionaire driven mad by chronic insomnia.
Calmed only by her unique natural scent of roses and rain, the terrifying man attacked her from the shadows and forced himself on her. Terrified and broken, Ayleen fled at dawn, unknowingly leaving behind her late mother's antique rose necklace in his bed.
Her greedy coworker found the necklace, claimed to be the woman from that night, and was instantly swept into a life of luxury. Meanwhile, Ayleen was blackmailed into a forced marriage with her attacker—Cassius Doyle—to save her adoptive father from prison. Deceived by the stolen necklace, Cassius believed Ayleen was a manipulative spy. He brought the coworker into their home and paraded her around the master bedroom.
"In this house, you are lower than the dirt on my shoes."
He choked Ayleen, forced her to sleep in a damp storage room, and treated her with violent disgust while pampering the thief.
Ayleen was suffocating in absolute despair. She had lost her innocence, her freedom, and her mother's only relic to a vicious liar. She couldn't understand how this all-powerful man could be so completely blind. Why couldn't he recognize the very scent that had cured his agonizing madness?
Staring at the dark bruises he had just left on her neck, Ayleen wiped the blood from her lip. She would endure this three-month marriage to secure her family's safety, but once the contract ended, she would expose the truth and tear down the fake savior he cherished so much.
7.7
I fled my werewolf pack five years ago to hide in a human city, all to escape a recurring nightmare.
Every full moon, a terrifying, golden-eyed Lycan slaughters everything in his path, forces me to my knees with a crushing Alpha command, and claims I am his fated mate.
The vivid dreams were destroying my inner wolf, forcing me to finally agree to return to my pack for the annual Pack Run to seek a cure.
But right before my flight home, I accidentally bumped into Rick Miller, the most arrogant, tyrannical Alpha on our college campus.
He looked down at the coffee spilled on his expensive leather jacket with pure disdain, publicly humiliating me in front of the entire airport.
"Do you have any idea what this jacket costs? Never mind. It's not like you could afford to replace it."
As he coldly insulted me, a terrifying realization suddenly froze my blood.
He smelled exactly like the ancient pine and storm from my nightmares, and his brief touch sent a mate's electric spark straight to my soul.
How could this cruel, spoiled campus bully possibly be the legendary, terrifying Lycan King who haunted my every sleeping moment?
As he turned and boarded his private jet, I looked down at my trembling hands and realized the horrifying truth.
My trip back to the pack wasn't a journey to heal my trauma.
I was walking straight into the cage of the very monster I had spent five years trying to outrun.
8.6
I woke up choking on rotting air in an alien jungle, surrounded by giant bioluminescent ferns and a three-eyed, armor-plated beast charging straight at me.
Before the monster could tear me apart, I was saved by a squad of men with metallic wings and laser rifles, but my nightmare was just beginning.
When they brought me back to their high-tech military base, every soldier we passed stopped dead, staring at me with a feverish, starving hunger that made my skin crawl.
In the medical wing, a manic doctor bypassed all protocol, pulling out a wicked silver needle to forcibly extract my blood, looking at me not as a patient, but as a winning lottery ticket.
Even their highest-ranking commander, a giant, scarred Admiral, immediately tried to claim me, demanding I be moved into his personal bedroom for "protection."
I didn't understand why I was being treated like a caged miracle, nor why a simple, accidental touch of my hand could bring my winged protector to his knees and silence his feral instincts.
"In the Aethel Empire, there are no females," my protector whispered, his icy blue eyes filled with raw desperation. "You are the only one."
The portal that brought me here was fading, trapping me in a universe of eighty billion shapeshifting Alpha males. Looking at the terrifying devotion in his eyes, I realized my life as an ordinary human was over, and to survive this, I had to tame the beasts.
8.8
My husband thought I was just a docile wife, easily controlled. He didn't know I'd spent five years meticulously dismantling his life. Tonight, his world would finally crumble into dust.
For five years, I endured Jackson's entitled demands and his family's greed, silently funding their lavish life in our Beverly Hills mansion.
My illusion shattered finding his mistress Amber's lingerie in his suitcase. My attorney just severed all financial ties, making Jackson's arrogant demands hollow.
I tossed my diamond ring into the trash, summoning an industrial compactor. Jackson, his mother, and mistress watched in horror as their designer luggage, bought with my money, was crushed, turning their lavish trip into garbage.
A cold, dead smile marked my cathartic release from five years of betrayal. How could they be so blind to the woman they dismissed?
Stepping into an armored Maybach, I left them in chaos. My iPad confirmed Jackson's credit cards freezing. This wasn't just divorce; it was a calculated demolition, making their pampered lives very real.
7.6
I pulled the perfectly baked Beef Wellington from the oven, its rich scent filling our Manhattan penthouse. For five years, I’d crafted this perfect life, but tonight, I’d discover my entire existence was a cruel, silent lie. The man I loved had built it all on betrayal.
Preparing our anniversary dinner, I reflected on five years of building a flawless home for Blake, a dream I’d never known.
Searching for a pen, I found a hidden compartment in Blake’s desk containing a cheap black USB drive—a significant secret for a man who despised anything less than perfect.
His MacBook unlocked with his birthday, not ours. The USB, after a near-data-wipe, revealed "The Archives": hundreds of photos of Blake with his college girlfriend, Isabelle, passionate love letters, and a wardrobe chosen to mirror hers. My name yielded "0 results found," while millions were wired to Isabelle.
I was a meticulously funded stand-in, a ghost he dressed up to play house. My non-existence in his world and his financial betrayal ignited a cold, burning rage.
Blake returned, dismissive, offering a delayed anniversary gift. I confronted him; he ripped the USB, snapped it, and stated, "Nothing changes, as long as you know your place." My obedience shattered: "I want a divorce," I declared, then destroyed dinner and packed my own bag.
9.2
I woke up suffocating in the dark, only to find my mind trapped inside a tiny, plump, and entirely uncoordinated body.
A cold, mechanical voice echoed in my brain, announcing that I was dead in my original world and had transmigrated into a corporate revenge novel as the six-month-old illegitimate daughter of Edward McClure, the story's ruthless villain.
The system mercilessly outlined my doomed fate. Tonight, my cold-blooded father would abandon me to a state orphanage. By age two, he would officially sign my rights away, leaving me to die miserably at the hands of human traffickers. Outside my nursery, I could hear his terrifying footsteps approaching, his voice devoid of any human warmth as he debated throwing me out like garbage. I was completely helpless, trapped in a baby's body, staring up at a man who looked at me with pure, visceral disgust.
Why did I have to be reborn as the tragic cannon fodder of a tyrant destined to put a bullet in his own head? How was I supposed to win over a severe germaphobe when my unequipped infant reflexes made me literally pee and vomit all over his pristine Tom Ford suits?
"Your ultimate mission is to prevent Edward McClure's self-destruction. Step one: Survive tonight's abandonment crisis."
Hearing the system's terrifying ultimatum, I swallowed my adult panic, forced a pool of pitiful tears into my large eyes, and reached my chubby little hands toward the monster.