Scorned Luna To Alpha Queen
Book Two of the Betrayed Luna to Alpha Queen Series
Can be read as a standalone or after Book One
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"They were supposed to hate me. All four of them. But the Moon Goddess doesn't make mistakes, she just has a twisted sense of humor."
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"Let me die free rather than live as his possession."
Those were Lyralei Ravenwood's last words before she jumped off Widow's Cliff, choosing death over marriage to a monster hiding behind a charming smile.
She should have died.
Instead, she wakes in the camp of the Four Great Alphas..the most powerful, dangerous men in the ancient werewolf world. Men who look at her with resentment. Men who make it clear she's not welcome.
The Moon Goddess sent her to unite them against a rising darkness.
But they don't want unity. They don't want her.
Lyra didn't ask to be sent anywhere. She just wanted to escape a cage.
Now she's trapped with four hostile Alphas who see her as an obligation rather than a person. Who resent every breath she takes. Who make it clear that prophecy or not, she will never command their loyalty.
But something is awakening between them. Something ancient and undeniable.
The Primordial Mate Bond-a force that links one soul to multiple Alphas, pulling them together whether they want it or not.
As shadow wolves attack and an ancient evil rises, Lyra must navigate not just war, but the far more dangerous battlefield of four hearts that were determined to hate her.
Because feelings without trust are torture.
CONTENT WARNING: This book contains mature themes including explicit sexual content, violence, death of major characters, psychological trauma, and morally complex situations. Recommended for readers 18+
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Chapter 1
The cold water did absolutely nothing to wash away the evidence of her tears and Lyralei just stared at her reflection in the basin, at her eyes so swollen and red they looked like someone else's entirely.
"Bastard." She swore for the ninth time today. She splashed more water on her face, gripping the basin hard enough that her knuckles went white. "Fucking bastard."
She could still feel Theron's breath against her ear from an hour ago when he'd cornered her in the hallway.
"Tonight, I'm going to bend you over and fuck you until you can't walk straight. I'll make you scream my name until your throat is raw and you'll take everything I give you because you'll be mine. My wife. My property. My little breeding bitch."
His fingers had trailed down her spine, lingering at the small of her back.
"I've been patient, Lyralei. So fucking patient. But after tonight, there's nothing stopping me from taking what's mine. I'm going to ruin you in every way possible."
Her stomach turned at the memory and honestly it still hadn't stopped turning.
"I hope you choke on your own tongue," she whispered to the mirror, to his ghost in her head. "I hope you die slowly, you sick piece of shit."
A knock at the door made her freeze.
"Miss Lyralei?" The voice was soft and apologetic. One of the younger omegas probably . "It's time. The ceremony starts in few minutes."
Few minutes until her life ended.
"I'll be right there," she called back, forcing her voice steady even as her hands shook.
She straightened and looked at herself properly. The dress was beautiful and she hated the fact that it was beautiful. It had silver silk that caught the light, embroidered with delicate patterns that probably cost more than most families made in months. It fit perfectly, hugging her curves in ways that made her want to tear it off.
It made her look like a bride and she wanted to fucking burn it.
Her fingers found the pendant at her throat. The moon charm her mother had worn for years, still warm against her skin.
If only her parents were alive. The thought came suddenly that she had to shake her head to stop thinking about it.
They weren't alive again. They were dead. Three years dead, and she was still paying for their heroism.
"You had to save everyone," she whispered, her reflection blurring as tears threatened again. "You just had to throw yourselves at those shadow wolves like your lives didn't matter. Like I didn't fucking matter."
The bitterness coated her tongue like poison.
Her parents had died protecting the pack, Alpha Aldric had called them heroes, given them elaborate funerals and promised to honor their sacrifice by ensuring their daughter was cared for.
And he'd kept that promise by offering her to his monster of a son.
The Ravenwood family-what was left of them-had smiled and nodded like this was a blessing. Her cousins. Her uncles. Her aunt. All of them too afraid of Alpha Aldric and his perfect heir to say a word in her defense.
Not one of them had the spine to stand up to the Moonshadows.
Cousin Elara had just given birth two weeks ago. A tiny girl with her father's eyes. The first new Ravenwood in three years, and Lyralei was literally just doing this for her...for all of them in fact because if she refused Theron, if she ran, he wouldn't just let it go.
He'd make them all pay somehow. That's just how twisted the fucker was.
Another knock, harder this time.
"Miss Lyralei, please."
"Coming."
She dropped her hand from the pendant and took one last look at herself. At the girl who was about to become property. At the daughter of warriors who was walking into her own execution wearing silk and a smile.
She turned from the mirror and headed for the door.
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The hallway felt too long. Each step toward the great hall was like walking toward the edge of a cliff.
She could hear voices ahead. Laughter, music and celebration.
Her stomach twisted tighter.
"You look absolutely beautiful, dear."
Lyralei turned to see Elder Cassandra, one of the older pack members who'd known her parents. The woman's smile was warm and surprisingly genuine which pissed Lyralei.
"Thank you," Lyralei said instead automatically, her own smile feeling like a mask.
You know what he is. You know what he does to the omega girls. You know and you're still smiling at me like this is something to celebrate.
"Your parents would be so proud."
The words were a knife sliding between her ribs.
They'd be ashamed. Ashamed that no one fought for me. Ashamed that I'm being handed over to a monster and everyone is pretending it's an honor.
"That's very kind of you," Lyralei said, her voice hollow.
She kept walking, and more voices joined in to her dismay.
"Such a beautiful bride."
I'm not a bride. I'm a sacrifice.
"Theron is so lucky to have you."
Lucky? He's getting exactly what he wanted. A toy he can finally break.
"What a perfect match you make."
We're not a match. He's a predator and I'm prey with nowhere left to run.
Each compliment felt like mockery and each smile like a lie. They all knew. She could see it in the way some of them wouldn't quite meet her eyes. In the way Elder Roderick's jaw tightened when he congratulated her. In the way Beta Marcus looked away quickly when she thanked him.
They knew what Theron was. They just didn't care enough to stop it.
Or maybe they were too afraid.
Either way, she was alone.
The great hall opened up before her, and her breath caught in her throat.
Crystal chandeliers threw light across silk decorations and tables laden with food and wine. Pack members everywhere in their finest clothes, talking and laughing and celebrating the union of their future Alpha and his bride.
This was supposed to be the happiest day of her life but she'd never felt more alone.
Someone touched her arm, guiding her forward, and Lyralei moved through the crowd on autopilot. Smiling, nodding and accepting congratulations that felt like condolences.
Then she saw him.
Theron stood near the front of the room with his father, both of them in conversation with some visiting wolves. He was laughing at something, head thrown back, looking every inch the perfect future Alpha in his formal ceremonial leathers.
Handsome, confident and charming.
A monster dressed for a wedding.
Her hands clenched into fists in her gown, nails biting into her palms through the fabric.
Someone said something to him. He turned, still smiling, and his eyes found her across the crowded hall.
The smile stayed on his face. But his eyes changed.
They raked over her body, slow and deliberate. Lingering on the curves of the dress. On the exposed skin at her shoulders and throat as if he was imagining undressing her slowly.
His tongue darted out to wet his lips.
Lyralei's hands trembled and this time not from fear but from rage so pure she felt herself go dizzy.
That fucking look. That same predatory, fucking look that said she already belonged to him. That said tonight, after the vows, after the witnesses left, he'd finally do everything he'd been whispering about for months.
And no one would stop him.
Theron smiled wider and took a step toward her.
At that moment, she just...snapped.
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7.2
Genevieve woke up choking on her own blood, a fatal gash tearing through her abdomen. The memories of a primitive world crashed into her mind—she had transmigrated into the body of a sadistic beastman Mistress.
But the five powerful beastmen "mates" standing over her hadn't come to her rescue. They had come to watch their tormentor die.
"We should just leave her," Kameron sneered coldly. "The scavengers will clean up the mess."
Gilberto spat in disgust, while Angelo, a silver-scaled snake-man, trembled in pure terror at the sight of her. The original owner had whipped them, humiliated them, and driven another mate to suicide. Now, they were letting her bleed out in the mud, their eyes filled with undisguised loathing and satisfaction.
She was a top-tier apocalyptic survival expert, yet here she was, paying the ultimate price for a stranger's monstrous sins. It was a bitter, unacceptable irony to die helplessly in the dirt while her supposed protectors waited for her corpse to rot.
She refused to accept this ending.
Forcing a chaotic surge of energy through their shared Biological Link, she brought all five men to their knees in agonizing pain, commanding them to carry her back. In the dark cave, without a single scream, she plunged her bare hands into a fire and brutally cauterized her own gaping wound with searing ash. As the beastmen stared in horrified awe at the unbreakable soul now occupying the tyrant's body, Genevieve wiped the blood from her face and began to rewrite her fate.
9.3
My father ordered me to marry into the cursed Vaughn family.
Their heirs were rumored to die young from a mysterious genetic agony. My sister Kayden laughed, saying she wasn't going to waste her youth planning a funeral. So, I became the sacrificial lamb.
When I refused, my father slammed his hand on the table and threatened to throw my dead mother's ashes into the city dump.
"You are a struggling actress with no money and no power. You have no choice," he told me coldly.
To make matters worse, my own agent drugged my drink at a business dinner, trying to sell my body to a sleazy investor just to secure project funding.
I was completely cornered, suffocating under the weight of their cruelty. I couldn't understand how my own flesh and blood could be so vicious, treating me like a worthless pawn to be traded and discarded.
But none of them knew that while escaping the drug-laced dinner, I crashed directly into the terrifying Vaughn heir, Algot.
When his glowing crimson eyes locked onto me during a violent episode of his cursed pain, we discovered an impossible truth: my physical touch was the only cure for his agony.
Looking at the dark bruises he accidentally left on my neck, I chose not to run. Instead, I pulled out the private business card he gave me and dialed his number.
"You need me," I whispered to the dangerous billionaire. "And I am going to use you to destroy them all."
7.2
Azura Briggs was just a broke college student working freezing valet shifts to pay her adoptive mother's crushing medical debt.
Her desperate life shattered the night a bulletproof Maybach violently cornered her in an alley, and a ruthless billionaire kidnapped her by mistake.
After a harrowing escape, Azura was forced to take a humiliating "plus-one" gig at a high-end gala just to survive. But her date turned out to be the billionaire's arrogant nephew, who promptly abandoned her to the wolves. Cornered by a sleazy executive and his psychotic wife, Azura was publicly slapped, her dress torn, and left bleeding on the floor while hundreds of elites watched in disgust.
Just as she prepared to fight to the death, the crowd violently parted. Hunter Mcintosh, the terrifying man who had kidnapped her days ago, dropped to his knees in the broken glass and wrapped his bespoke jacket around her trembling shoulders.
Azura was completely paralyzed. Why was the monster who threatened her life now destroying billionaires just to protect her?
But the illusion of safety didn't last. Trapped in his Maybach hours later, Hunter threw a draconian employment contract at her feet.
"Sign it, and her care is covered. Forever."
He knew exactly how to break her. He was offering to pay off her mother's debt, but only if she signed her life away to become his personal assistant. With no other way out, Azura picked up the heavy pen.
8.7
I was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella.
Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark.
But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved.
Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies.
When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel.
While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest.
The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella.
He ordered my father to punish me.
I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth.
That night, the love in my heart finally died.
On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape-the only proof that I was Seven.
Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney.
By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return.
7.3
Seven years ago, my fiancé, Don Dante Moretti, sent me to prison to take the fall for my adopted sister, Chiara. He called it a gift-a way to protect me from a worse fate.
Today, he picked me up from prison only to abandon me at my family's estate. His reason? Chiara was having another one of her "episodes."
My parents then informed me I'd be staying in the third-floor storage room, so as not to disturb the fragile girl who stole my life.
They celebrated her "recovery" with a lavish dinner party, while I was treated like a ghost. When I refused to join, my mother hissed that I was ungrateful, and my father called me jealous.
They assumed I couldn't understand their venomous whispers. But prison was my university. I learned Spanish. I understood every word.
It was then I realized I wasn't just a sacrifice; I was disposable. The love I once felt for all of them had turned to ash.
That night, in the dusty storage room, I logged onto an encrypted channel I'd set up years ago. A single message was waiting: "The offer stands. Do you accept?" My hands, scarred and steady, typed back, "I accept."
8.9
The mangled car teetered on the cliff's edge, my leg crushed, gasoline fumes thick in the air. My husband, Holden, stood safe on the highway, directing the rescue – but not for me. He was saving her, the woman in the passenger seat, leaving me and our unborn child to the ocean below.
I woke trapped in the crushed Maybach, leg pinned. The cliff loomed; the driver's seat was empty.
Holden, safe outside, directed paramedics past me to Giana, his "most valuable asset," ordering her rescue first.
I watched him comfort Giana, oblivious, as the car slid. My baby barely viable. Holden offered a black card for silence; Giana gloated.
Ten years of devotion, a cruel lie. Rage fueled me: how could he abandon his wife and child?
I swore a venomous oath: never again an accessory. I flicked his card away, shielded my pregnancy, and promised my baby escape.