One Night With The Cruel Alpha
I traded my innocence to my fated mate, the Alpha King, just to get a stalk of Moonlight Grass to save my dying brother.
But after a night of agonizing physical connection, he didn't mark me. Instead, he tossed me a single, useless dried leaf and a credit card, treating our sacred bond like a cheap transaction.
When I refused his insulting offer to be his secret, nameless mistress, he choked me against a wall and banished me from his lands forever. I fled to the human city, only to watch from the shadows a week later as he publicly escorted a pure-blood noble female, preparing to make her his Luna. Meanwhile, I was forced to sell herbs in the lawless black market just to survive, where I was cornered by a gang of violent rogues.
I didn't understand. We were chosen by the Moon Goddess. When our skin touched, the mating sparks nearly blinded us both. Why did he look at me with such cold disgust? Why did he throw me away like trash, only to parade another woman as his queen?
Running for my life from the rogues, I tripped and fell onto the asphalt, right at the feet of a convoy of black SUVs.
The man stepping out was the Alpha King who had sworn to kill me if he ever saw me again.
But as the rogues demanded I be handed over, his eyes darkened with a terrifying, primal fury.
"She's mine."
Chapters
Share
Chapter 5
Elara Thorne POV:
I fled the room like a thief, my head bowed, my eyes fixed on the plush carpet. I just wanted to escape without being seen, to melt back into the shadows where I belonged. But my luck had run out. As I rounded a corner in the long, sunlit hallway, I nearly collided with a pair of pack maids.
They stopped, their arms full of fresh linens, and stared. Their eyes traveled from my disheveled hair down to my mud-stained leggings, taking in my pale, tear-streaked face. Whispers erupted between them, punctuated by cruel, knowing smirks. I was the Alpha's latest conquest, the trash he was now throwing out.
My hands curled into fists at my sides. I pushed past them, my pace quickening to a near-run as I navigated the maze of corridors, desperate for the exit. I burst through the front doors and didn't stop until the cool, fresh air of the forest filled my lungs.
Meanwhile, in his sprawling, leather-bound study, Ryker stared at the pack's financial reports, but the numbers blurred into meaningless squiggles. He couldn't focus. The image of Elara's face, her hazel eyes so empty, so utterly defeated, was burned into the back of his eyelids.
His wolf paced restlessly at the edge of his consciousness, a low, guttural growl vibrating in his chest. It was furious with him, with the way he had treated her. Their mate.
Ryker slammed the heavy file shut, the sound echoing in the silent room. *She's just an omega,* he told himself, the thought feeling thin and hollow. *She's not worth this distraction.*
But his Alpha senses, honed to a razor's edge, betrayed him. He could still smell the faint, coppery scent of the blood from her bitten lip. He could still see the almost imperceptible limp in her gait as she'd walked away, a testament to his roughness. The details tormented him, stirring a disquiet he couldn't name and couldn't ignore.
His mind was a battlefield. His training, his logic, the iron-clad control of the Alpha King, all told him the transaction was complete. She was gone. It was over. But a deeper, more ancient instinct clawed at him, demanding he do something.
The instinct won. With a frustrated sigh, he jabbed the button on his desk intercom.
"Leo," he said, his voice rougher than usual. "Bring her back."
There was a moment of stunned silence from the other end. "Alpha? You just ordered her to—"
"It's an order," Ryker snapped, cutting him off.
I had just reached the edge of the Blackwood territory, the scent of the neutral woods a welcome promise of freedom. A black SUV, the same kind that lined the packhouse driveway, pulled up silently beside me on the gravel road.
The passenger door opened and Leo stepped out, his face an unreadable mask. "Miss Thorne. The Alpha commands your return."
A cold dread washed over me. He'd changed his mind. He was going to take back the leaf. Or maybe he'd thought of some new, fresh humiliation to inflict upon me.
"Our business is concluded," I said, my voice trembling.
Leo's expression didn't change. "It is an Alpha's Command."
The power in those words was absolute. My feet, which wanted to run, were frozen to the spot. My body, against my will, turned and followed him back to the vehicle. I had no choice.
The SUV didn't return to the main house. Instead, it drove around to a separate, modern-looking building tucked behind a grove of trees—the pack's medical wing. My confusion deepened into a knot of anxiety. What was happening?
Leo led me inside to a sterile, white examination room. A she-wolf with kind eyes and silver-streaked hair, dressed in a doctor's white coat, was waiting for us.
"This is our Pack Doctor, Dr. Aris," Leo said by way of introduction.
Dr. Aris gave me a warm, reassuring smile. "Don't be nervous, dear. The Alpha asked me to take a look at you."
I was completely bewildered. Why would he do this? Why would the man who had treated me with such contempt now show this bizarre, detached form of concern?
In an observation room next door, hidden behind a one-way mirror, Ryker watched. His expression was as cold and hard as ever, but his hands were clenched into tight fists at his sides, a betraying sign of a tension he would never admit to.
Dr. Aris was gentle. She cleaned and treated the cut on my lip. She gave me a soothing balm for the aches and bruises on my body. As she worked, she must have caught the faint, lingering scent of Ryker on my skin. She gave me a long, thoughtful look, but thankfully, said nothing.
When she was finished, Leo reappeared. He handed me a simple paper bag. Inside was a clean set of clothes—a soft grey sweatshirt and black leggings—and a bottle of water and a sandwich.
I stared at the items, my mind reeling. One moment, he was a monster, a tyrant. The next, he was this... this faceless, remote caretaker. Who was this man? And what in the hell did he want from me?
You may also like
7.1
The last thing I remembered was the blinding flash of my starship crashing. But instead of a rescue crew, I woke up tied to a wooden post, surrounded by hostile beastmen.
My universal translator kicked in just in time to hear their priestess, Chelsea, declare that I was a cursed demon who ruined their hunt. To save the clan from winter starvation, I was to be burned alive.
The flames were already blistering my legs, and jagged stones hurled by the crowd gashed my forehead. I barely negotiated a three-day reprieve to find them food, venturing into the deadly primeval forest.
I found a massive supply of wild potatoes and even gained the protection of Bronson, a terrifyingly powerful saber-toothed tiger beastman.
But Chelsea wouldn't stop.
She labeled my food as poisonous, tried to sentence me to starve in a penitent's cave, and when my agricultural knowledge proved her wrong, she invoked an ancient law. She incited the tribe's savage warriors to fight over me, turning me into breeding property.
I was a scientist offering them endless food, yet their primitive ignorance and one woman's vicious jealousy kept pushing me toward a brutal end. I was terrified, completely powerless against their monstrous physical strength.
As five ruthless challengers drew their bone axes to claim me, I begged Bronson to leave me and run.
Instead, he pulled me against his scarred chest and kissed me fiercely in front of the entire clan.
"She is my mate," he roared, unleashing a soul-crushing aura. "Anyone who wants her, come at me together."
7.5
For five years, I was locked away in the freezing royal dungeon, starved and used as a bloody plaything by the kingdom's sadistic Cabinet Minister, Brandt Fischer.
He tortured me daily for one twisted reason: I simply looked like someone else.
When he visited my cell to casually announce my father's execution and drag a silver dagger across my neck, he expected me to beg.
Instead, I laughed, sank my teeth directly into his carotid artery, and was violently thrown against a jagged stone wall to my death.
As my skull cracked and my blood stained the moss, I thought about my so-called family. The moment Brandt had demanded me, my father, the Duke, handed me over without a single hesitation to save his own political career.
I was nothing but a disposable pawn, left to rot in the dark while the monsters who ruined my life thrived.
I died suffocating on my own blood and absolute, destructive vengeance.
Then, I opened my eyes.
I was lying in my silk-sheeted bed, reborn as my fifteen-year-old self.
Today was the exact day Lord Daryl Langley, the God of War, would be ambushed and crippled—the event that allowed Brandt to seize ultimate power.
I immediately stole a horse, rode to the palace gates, and threw myself directly in front of Daryl's moving carriage.
"I just didn't want to see a hero die like a slaughtered pig."
I didn't care if I had to shatter my own ankle to hijack his convoy. This time, I was going to save the general, and he would become the blade I use to slaughter them all.
8.0
Scarlett Hayes thought marrying James Whitmore would finally make her family see her as more than a burden.
Instead, it destroyed her life.
Framed for crimes she didn't commit, betrayed by the people she trusted most, and sentenced to prison while pregnant, Scarlett lost everything in a single night.
Then came the cruelest blow of all.
After giving birth in chains, she was told her baby had died.
The people responsible believed she would spend the rest of her life rotting behind bars.
They were wrong.
Five years later, Scarlett returns.
No longer the discarded daughter of the Hayes family. No longer the broken woman they left behind.
Now she is Commander Scarlett Hayes-a decorated war hero, the unseen force behind a global intelligence empire, and a woman powerful enough to make governments tremble.
She comes back for one reason only: revenge.
Her ex-husband, the stepsister who stole her life, and the family who buried her alive are about to learn exactly what happens when a woman with nothing left to lose takes back everything they stole.
But as Scarlett tears through the secrets of her past, one truth threatens to change everything-
the child she mourned for years may not be dead.
And the mysterious man connected to the night that changed her life has been watching from the shadows all along.
7.1
The captain is dead to the world. And I'm the only one holding the kill switch.
Ethan Carter, the "Glacier of Silvercrest," was the most feared Alpha to ever step onto the ice. Now, he's nothing but a shell-a broken, comatose legend trapped in his own body.
My life? It was supposed to be simple. Graduate, survive the pack's bottom-tier status, and pay off my father's ruinous blood-debts. Instead, the pack elders handed me a contract soaked in cold, hard malice: I am the designated "Stabilizer." My only job is to touch him, scent him, and keep his wolf from flatlining.
I thought I was just a glorified nurse. I didn't realize the Alpha was listening.
When Ethan finally wakes, he isn't the hero the Kingdom of Valeria remembers. He's a starving predator with amber eyes that burn holes through my defenses and a temperament that makes the frost in the mansion seem warm. He hates the bargain, he hates the pack, and-most dangerously-he hates the way his scent turns wild whenever I'm near.
He wants me out of his sight. I want to be out of his reach.
But in a pack built on secrets, someone is still trying to finish the job they started on his life. Now, the man who wants me gone is the only one who can protect me. And as the rink turns into a battlefield, I'm realizing the most dangerous thing about the Alpha isn't his temper... it's the fact that once he claims a mate, he doesn't know how to let go.
Frozen hearts are meant to shatter. But in the fire of this pack, we're both going to burn.
9.0
Isolde woke up in a freezing, ruined stone house with a splitting headache and only five percent of her life signs remaining.
Before she could even process the mechanical system voice in her head, a flood of violent memories slammed into her.
She had transmigrated into the body of a cruel noblewoman who mercilessly tortured her beastmen husbands with a barbed whip.
And right now, she was lying in a pool of her own blood, having been shoved against the stone floor by one of them.
Outside the rickety door, her husbands were coldly discussing her death.
"Just go in and finish her. One stab, and we're free."
"If she hit her head and died on her own, then it's an accident. We walk out of here as free males."
To test if she was faking her sudden amnesia, the snake beastman Dangelo even ground his heavy military boot into her injured hand, waiting for her to snap so he could legally end her.
She was poisoned, freezing, and entirely at the mercy of the men who deeply despised her.
She was bearing the deadly consequences of a monster she never was, with a red system warning of imminent death flashing in her mind.
But they didn't know the new Isolde had awakened a survival system and Life Magic.
She swore a blood oath to the Beast God to buy herself three months of time.
Then, she turned her sights to the dying wolf beastman chained in the shed, deciding to pull him back from hell to become her very first shield.
9.6
I was the devoted Luna of the Blackwood Pack, bound to my fated mate, Alpha Ryker.
But he coldly rejected our sacred bond for a pure-blooded she-wolf, tossing me aside like garbage.
That was when a cold voice in my head revealed the horrifying truth.
"Your fate is to be rejected, a tragic footnote in their epic love story."
My entire life was a scripted prophecy controlled by a twisted entity.
According to the script, I was supposed to be locked away, my inner wolf withering from the broken bond until I died in agony.
The entity even confessed to orchestrating the murder of Alpha Gideon, the only father figure I ever had, just to keep our bloodline enslaved to this sick narrative.
I refused to be a ghost in someone else's happily ever after.
Why should my family die and my soul be erased just to serve a predetermined fate?
Instead of crying like the prophecy demanded, I tore my own soul apart to shatter the ancient Scroll of Fate, destroying the entity itself.
Opening my eyes again, I was back to being a ten-year-old child.
It was the exact day my lifelong trauma began.
"Do as I say, Elara. Do not make any more trouble for me."
My mother was trying to force me to take the blame for a bully, just to save her own reputation.
This time, I am writing the script.