Rejected By The Alpha King, Claimed By The Lycan King
Scarlet Underwood had always fancied herself in love with Alpha Alex, she always knew he would be the one she would get married to. It was a dream come true to finally walk down the aisle and become not only his mate but the Luna of the pack.
However, everything came crashing down when Kayla, Scarlet's best friend, claimed she was pregnant with Alpha Alex's child.
Hurt, betrayed, and angry, Scarlet runs away.
She gets attacked by rogues but is saved by Damien, the feared Lycan King, and it is painfully obvious by the sparks flying that they are mates.
Damien, the reclusive Lycan King, is unsure what to do with his mate.
He harbors a dark secret that may threaten to harm her if she chooses to stay with him, but he can't deny the burning attraction and pull he feels to her.
Will Scarlet open up her heart to the possibility of love after having been burned once?
And will Damien find a way around the curse and claim his mate?
Join Damien and Scarlet on their journey of love, sacrifice, and betrayals!!!
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Chapter 3
Scarlet's pov
Just as the rogue is about to sink his canines into my neck, a howl echoed into the night, right before a huge black Lycan jumps in front of me.
His aura reeks of power and authority, and he stands tall, looking down at the rogues who are visibly shaken by his presence.
My wolf perks up at his presence, and she claws to be let loose as my eyes trace all his features.
That was weird.
The Lycan growled lowly, daring them to step forward and challenge him.
Their leader snared and leaped towards the Lycan.
The Lycan effortlessly sidestepped the rogue and flung it back.
The rogue stood and seemed to weigh his options. He thinks better of it when it is painfully clear that the Lycan can take them all at once.
With one last threatening growl, they retreat and disappear into the shadows.
The Lycan turns towards me, and my breath hitches when our eyes meet.
Brown hazel eyes sparkled as they stared at me, almost as if they were searching my soul.
His face was hard and unreadable.
My throat dries at how huge and muscular he is, towering over my little frame. His eyes are sharp and alert with a mix of wonder.
Electric sparks surround us, and my wolf begs to be let free.
I'm baffled by how my body craves to gravitate towards this stranger.
"Mate." His low husky voice declared, looking straight at me, and my heart dropped.
My wolf leaped for joy at his words.
"No, it couldn't be," I muttered as my eyes rolled to the back of my head and I passed out.
****
"What if she dies?" A tiny voice asked.
"Sophie, don't say such things." Someone gasped, and I groaned as I felt someone poke my side.
"Aren't you a tough one?" A voice lulled me into consciousness, and I slowly peered my eyes open.
A small girl of not over five years and a young, chubby woman towered over me and stared at me with curiosity.
"Off you go Sophie, I have a patient to attend to." The woman shooed the little girl out of the room and locked the door with a click, before returning to me.
I took in the simple cream coloured room and frowned when I realized this wasn't my bedroom.
"I'm sorry, that's my daughter. She's very curious." The woman's soft voice broke the silence.
"Where am I?" I asked, cradling my banging head within my hands.
"In the Moonlit Lycan pack." She informed me, and my eyes bulged.
The events of the past day flooded my memory, and I plopped down on the bed in defeat.
"Who brought me here?" I asked.
"Damien, the Lycan King." She shrugged, and my heart stopped.
It couldn't be.
This had to be some sick joke from nature.
Of all the people in the world to be my mate, it had to be the Lycan King. A wolf feared by all throughout the kingdom.
I marvelled at how, in less than a day, I had gone from almost getting married to the love of my life to finding out he was having a child with my best friend and then almost getting killed by rogues if not for the timely appearance of my mate.
My mate, the Lycan king.
"You don't need to seem so frightened, dear, I know what the rumours say, but when you get to know him, you'll discover he is nothing like that." The woman looked at me with a soft smile.
"Who are you?" I asked, gulping down the water she offered me greedily.
"Emma, the pack doctor." She introduced herself.
"King Damien asked me to inform him when you are awake." She commented and a strange emotion I couldn't place gripped my heart at the thought of staring into those brown hazel eyes again.
"I'm not sure I'm up for company just yet," I muttered, trying to avoid any interaction with him until I could decipher how I felt about everything.
"I can't disobey his orders." She told me.
She went to the door and spoke to whoever stood behind it before returning to me with a frown on her face.
"Is he standing outside the door?" Panic spiked through me.
"No, those are the guards he stationed at your door." She explained.
"Guards?" I quirked a brow at her.
"Just a formality." She shrugged.
"King Damien has ordered you rest and regain your strength before he visits you." She informed me.
That was exactly what I wanted, so why did I feel disappointed instead of relieved at her words?
Why didn't my mate want to see me?
"How fast do you think the wound would heal, and would I be able to leave?" I asked her as she changed the dressing on my abdomen, where the rogue had bitten me.
"I don't know about leaving." She looked up at me wearily.
But it should take a day or two at most for you to heal, your wolf is very strong and is helping to speed up the healing process." She revealed and I merely nodded.
Once I was strong enough to be on my feet again, I would leave this place, regardless of whatever my mate had to say about it.
"I tried to save your gown, but I'm afraid it was unredeemable." She divulged.
It was then I noticed I wasn't clad in my white wedding dress; rather I was in a simple black tank top and shorts.
My heart clenched at the mention of my wedding gown.
I should have been marked and happily married by now.
"It doesn't matter, you could burn it if you like. I want to have no physical reminders." I gritted out, and the woman stared at me in bewilderment, no doubt surprised at the venom laced in my words.
Because the last thing on my mind right now, is taking revenge against those motherfuckers who betrayed me.
"Alex, Kayla..." I breathed heavily, my fist clenched in anger.
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7.6
I woke up to the suffocating smell of copper and sulfur, my fingers wrapped around a blood-soaked leather whip.
Hanging from an obsidian cross in front of me was a boy with silver hair and dead, golden eyes.
His pale chest was torn open to the bone.
I recognized those eyes immediately. I had spent three years describing them on my laptop.
He was Kamari Monroe, the tragic, overpowered protagonist of my own web novel.
And I wasn't just a bystander. I was Benedict Guerrero, the sadistic academy headmaster. The ultimate villain.
A reel of images flashed in my mind: my original ending. Kamari, fully awakened, skinning me alive and burning my soul in a furnace for forty-nine days.
My loyal attack dog, Gideon, stepped forward with a basin of glowing green liquid.
"Headmaster, let me wake him up with this bone-rot acid so you can resume."
If that acid hit Kamari, his hatred would become permanent. My gruesome death would be sealed.
But if I broke character and apologized, the magical world would sense the shift, and Kamari would just think it was a sicker, more twisted trap.
How was I supposed to survive a death sentence I wrote myself?
I couldn't show weakness. I had to play the monster to survive.
Suppressing my terror, I smashed the acid basin, healed his ruined flesh with agonizing dark magic, and lied straight to his face.
"Someone had to be the monster to push you into the fire."
This time, I will rewrite my own fate.
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.
7.9
Estrella Ward gave five years of her life to her husband, draining her trust fund to save him from bankruptcy and raising his son as her own.
But one night, she woke up in a freezing hotel room, drugged, with a stranger's bite marks on her skin.
Her husband burst through the door with cameras, his vicious family, and her ten-year-old stepson, publicly framing her as a cheating whore.
The horrifying truth soon surfaced: her husband had drugged her himself, selling her body to his Wall Street boss to secure a senior partnership.
Estrella fought back with hidden security footage, blackmailing him into submission after discovering she was pregnant with his boss's child.
But fate dealt a cruel blow. She was diagnosed with aggressive, terminal breast cancer.
She refused to abort the baby to keep her leverage, but the cancer spread too fast.
She died alone in a cold hospital room, her vengeance unfinished, while her husband and his cruel family celebrated.
They thought they had successfully buried her and her secrets forever, escaping unpunished for destroying her life.
But when she gasped for air and opened her eyes again, she wasn't in a cold grave.
She was in a sterile hospital bed, looking at the perfectly manicured hands of Brooklyn Thompson—the notorious, empty-headed socialite everyone despised.
Estrella's soul had survived the abyss.
"You're going to pay for every drop of blood."
She clenched her new fists, the fire of her vengeance burning brighter than ever.
7.2
Christa discovered her adopted daughter Evelyn was sneaking around with a street thug named Dante.
When she furiously confronted her, Evelyn squeezed out a few tears and played the tragic, abused orphan.
"Mom is so cruel to me, I just want someone to love me," Evelyn cried to the men of the house, who instantly took her side.
Christa didn't realize her anger only gave the girl the perfect victim card. Evelyn manipulated the family's guilt to drain their wealth and orchestrate a massive corporate fraud.
When the authorities closed in, Evelyn let Christa's eldest daughter Julianna take the fall, sending her to federal prison.
The Stephenson family went completely bankrupt.
Christa's husband Grant, crushed by the betrayal and debt, jumped off a Manhattan skyscraper.
Until her family was entirely destroyed, Christa couldn't understand. They had given the orphan a home, a trust fund, and endless love.
Why did Evelyn treat them like easy marks? Why did she use their kindness as a weapon to tear them apart?
Opening her eyes again, Christa saw the heavy velvet drapes letting in the pale morning light.
She was back seven years ago, on the exact day she first caught Evelyn texting that thug.
This time, Christa wouldn't scream or fight. She would cut off the money, drop the rules, and watch the parasite dig her own grave.
9.4
I was lying in a sterile hospital room, dying of cancer, with only a fake infertility report to keep me company.
Right before my heart monitor flatlined, a stranger walked in and handed me a medical file.
He told me that my fiancé, Garret, had zero sperm viability. The baby my adoptive sister, Beryl, was carrying wasn't his.
When Beryl got pregnant years ago, my adoptive parents forced me to break my engagement and take the blame for being barren.
I was discarded by Garret, mocked by Beryl's triumphant smiles, and kicked out of the house.
I was left to rot alone in a hospital bed while they lived the perfect life stolen from me.
My entire existence had been a cage built on a single, disgusting lie.
The anger burned away my despair. Why was I the only one who didn't know?
Why did I let them use me as a maid and a shield for their filthy secrets?
As the darkness swallowed me, I prayed for just one more chance.
I opened my eyes to the sound of my adoptive mother yelling my name.
The calendar on the wall read March 15, 2019—the exact day they forced me to give up Garret.
This time, I didn't cry or beg.
"You want Beryl to have Garret? Fine," I told my shocked adoptive parents. "But I want a cash buyout, and we are legally severing this adoption."
Then, I set my sights on Douglass Ward—the stranger from the hospital room.
8.5
Sera was the obedient, spoiled Hollywood socialite of the Beaumont family, completely devoted to her fiancé, Ethan.
But her life ended in a freezing Eastern European warehouse, chained to a damp concrete floor.
Right before she died, her captors shoved the transfer documents in her face. Ethan had sold her to human traffickers to cover his massive underground gambling debts.
While she suffered in absolute hell, her adoptive mother went on national television.
She squeezed out fake tears, publicly framing Sera for stealing family funds and eloping with a secret lover.
Sera's reputation was completely destroyed, and she was left to die a miserable, agonizing death in the dark.
She didn't understand why her family treated her like a disposable piece of trash.
She understood even less how the man who promised to marry her could hand her over to monsters without a second thought.
When she opened her eyes again, the biting cold and heavy iron chains were gone.
She was back five years in the past.
She was lying on a hotel bed, her limbs heavy with date-rape drugs, while a predatory Hollywood director hovered inches from her face.
It was the exact "exclusive audition" Ethan had arranged to exploit her for the very first time.
Sera didn't scream. With lethal, practiced precision, she shattered the director's wrist and brought a heavy crystal ashtray down on his skull.
The bleeding man collapsed onto the carpet and whimpered.
"Ethan promised... he said you'd be compliant..."
Staring at his pathetic face, a cold, predatory smile stretched across Sera's lips.
This time, she was going to systematically dismantle their lives.