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EX-HUSBAND'S REGRET: DIVORCED AND CLAIMED BY THE LYCAN KING

EX-HUSBAND'S REGRET: DIVORCED AND CLAIMED BY THE LYCAN KING

"Sign it. You're no woman if you can't give me an heir." Niamh gave Marcus two years of her life, her unwavering loyalty, and her silent love. In return, the billionaire CEO served her divorce papers and a one-way ticket to the gutter. Cast out into a rainy night with nothing but the clothes on her back and twelve dollars, Niamh’s story should have ended there. Instead, she stumbled on a stranger in the rain. In an attempt to save him, he kisses her senseless. He is the last Lycan King standing, and a man of terrifying power, yet he is haunted by a seven-century curse. When the king has a taste of Niamh in the pouring rain, he knew he had to keep her for himself, even though she was human and it was against the laws of their kind not to mingle with humans. The King needs her essence and Niamh realizes she could use her body to get what she wanted; revenge on Marcus and his mother for humiliating her and making her waste her time. Now, the woman Marcus discarded is rising as a global conglomerate queen and a Divine Enchantress as assigned by the Moon Goddess. While her ex-husband’s empire crumbles into bankruptcy and his body rots with a shameful curse, Niamh is learning that being "claimed" by the King is much more than the contract she'd initially made with him. He wanted to use her as his cure. She wanted to use him for her revenge. But in the Lumina Realm, the Goddess has other plans.
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Chapter 4

Alastairion's POV "What do you mean she isn't human?" Atticus questioned sounding a bit appalled, his voice straining against the roar of the wind. I didn't answer immediately. How could I explain that my wounds, deep and jagged enough to expose bone, had vanished the moment her lips touched mine? The power that had surged through me when I kissed her wasn't the slow, agonizing crawl of Lycan regeneration. If she were human, then it meant she was just one of the rare ones the prophecy described. But the prophecies didn't mention any healing powers. Atticus moved cautiously as he stepped around me. He crouched beside her, his head dipping low as he inhaled her scent. "She smells like a human..." Atticus announced, his brow furrowed as he looked up at me. "There is no trace of other in her, at least not our kind." "Aye, she does," I agreed, my voice a low rumble. He is right. I can also smell her humanness but there are questions about the kiss and what happened after. I cannot share this with Atticus, not until I know what the woman is. Atticus stood up and looked over at the two dead wolves I had just killed. They were slumped in messy piles, their pale, reddish eyes staring at nothing. These weren't regular wolves; they were much bigger and more aggressive, like Betas. They had attacked so perfectly that it seemed like they knew exactly who they were attacking. "How did they know about your weakness?" Atticus wondered out loud, his voice tight with frustration. He paced in circles through the wet grass, his eyes darting toward the trees as if he expected more attackers to jump out at any moment. "This feels too planned to be a random attack," he muttered. "They did not know about my weakness. I was ambushed and hence, taken unaware." I grumbled in response. Atticus sighed with exasperation. "You will never agree to being weak. But look at the timing, my King. They must have known somehow. I am the only one who knows." I growled again, this time a warning. I did not want to think about the possibility of betrayal, nor did I want to dwell on the curse that had been placed on me centuries ago. It was a stain on my history and royalty. "Whether they were aware or not is irrelevant," I snapped, my eyes flashing. "Yes, because they're dead and we cannot question them," Atticus responded deadpan with heavy sarcasm, gesturing to the mangled remains of the wolves. He was the only one who dared to speak to me with such bluntness. He bent low once more, his nose nearly touching the woman's damp cheek as he took another long sniff. He stayed there for a moment, his eyes softening. "She smells of tragedy," Atticus said sympathetically after getting to his feet. "Aye," I replied, my eyes fixed on her closed eyelids. "Whoever sent them is waging war," Atticus said, his tone shifting back to the reality of my situation as he briefly eyed the dead wolves. "I won't let all our years of hard work and peace just crumble like that," I stated calmly. The wind picked up, as if motivated by my words. "Send for the elders and the Alphas tomorrow. I want a full council. If there is a traitor among us, I will find them and peel the skin from their bones." "And the woman?" Atticus asked, his eyes darting to her limp form. I leaned down, my large hands slipping under her small body. She felt much lighter than I expected, and her skin was cold from the rain. When I lifted her, her head rested against my chest, her damp hair falling over my arm like silk. The stark contrast between my bloody, scarred body and her pale fragile body was almost ironic. I began moving toward the castle, taking long, purposeful strides. The forest seemed to part for us, the trees looming like quiet guards as we stepped onto the hidden, dark path leading to the fortress. "What are you going to do with her?" Atticus hurried to keep pace with me, his boots squishing loudly in the mud. "Just leave her be. We can leave her here. Someone will find her." He was trying to be the voice of reason, the advisor who always kept my impulses in check. But he didn't understand. He hadn't seen the way her touch had mended my flesh. "How did she end up here?'" Atticus pressed when I remained silent. "This road is miles from any human settlement. A woman in flats and a diner uniform doesn't just wander into the heart of our territory by accident." "I don't know," I answered, my voice tight, slowly getting annoyed by his relentless questions. "But she found me before I found her." I thought of her face hovering over mine in the dark, her eyes wide with a terror she had pushed aside to try and help a dying stranger. She had been at her lowest point, and yet she had reached out to a monster. "And...?" Atticus prompted, his voice dropping suspiciously. He had been with me long enough to know when I was leaving something out. "There is something else. What happened?" I stopped for a second, the castle's silhouette emerging through the mist like a crown. "I kissed her," I said to him. The words were barely a whisper, yet in the stillness between the thunderclaps, they sounded very loud. Atticus howled, an involuntary sound of pure shock that he couldn't stop. He stumbled, catching himself against a tree trunk. "You have shocked me, my King," he stuttered, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Even my wolf couldn't stand it. A Lycan King... a human... like that? Please tell me you're lying. Tell me it was a fever dream." "I have never told a lie, Atticus," I said, turning my head to look at him. Atticus looked from me to the woman, then back again. He moved closer, leaning over her as we resumed our walk. "It's a miracle she's even breathing," Atticus whispered in awe. "A human shouldn't be able to handle that kind of energy, especially not while you were in such a vulnerable state." The ancient stone walls loomed ahead as we trudged the path. Atticus' voice came back with a warning. "She won't be alive for long," he whispered, the warning heavy in the air. "Look at her. She is fading. Either you leave her for dead and let nature take its course, or you do the forbidden act." I didn't stop walking to look at him as we made our way up the steep path leading to the castle. "I know, Atticus. I am aware." I replied bluntly.

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