The Alpha's Secret Fake Rogue Luna
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I was just a wolfless Rogue, keeping my head down to earn a temporary sanctuary in the Blackwood Pack.
But everything changed when Alpha Damien, spiraling into madness after his mate Chloe publicly rejected him, forced me into a dangerous game. He commanded me to be his fake lover for an upcoming Gala to shatter his ex's arrogant ego.
I thought it was just a temporary business deal to secure my safety.
Instead, it painted a massive target on my back.
The high-ranking she-wolves sneered at me, calling me a filthy seductress, and Chloe herself stormed in, demanding I stay away from her Alpha.
But the real nightmare wasn't the pack's hatred—it was Damien.
The safe boundaries of our fake arrangement completely shattered when his act turned into a terrifying, possessive obsession.
He trapped me in his home, his feral inner wolf purring at my scent, and kissed me with a consuming hunger that triggered my darkest memories of being abused by an Alpha.
I didn't understand why the most powerful, ruthless Alpha in the region was suddenly obsessed with a broken nobody.
Why did his maddened beast only quiet down when I touched him?
I had sworn to never belong to an Alpha, to never be treated as property again.
But when I tried to run from his manor, he didn't let me go.
He locked me inside his private jet, caging me against the wall as his eyes flashed with a dark, predatory gold.
"I don't care what you are, I just want you."
As the cabin doors sealed shut, I realized the real battle for my freedom had just begun.
The Alpha's Secret Fake Rogue Luna Chapter 1
Seraphina POV
The heavy scent of crushed valerian root and chamomile wasn't enough to mask the cloying, overly sweet floral perfumes of the two she-wolves standing near the kitchen island.
"Did you hear Kael snapping at the border patrol yesterday?" Katya whispered, leaning closer to Lila. "The Alpha's wolf is completely feral. It’s been six months since Chloe’s rejection. He needs a Luna to ground him before he loses his mind."
Lila scoffed, her eyes darting toward me. "Well, he certainly won't find one in a filthy Rogue. I still don't understand why he lets *that* stay in the Pack House."
I kept my head down, carefully pouring the boiling water into the porcelain teapot. Being a wolfless Rogue meant I didn't have an Inner Wolf to bare its teeth or growl at their insults. I had no pack, no status, and no power. All I wanted was to do my chores, keep my head down, and earn the temporary sanctuary Alpha Damien had granted me.
Placing the teapot on a silver tray, I walked past them in silence, ignoring their sneers.
The atmosphere grew suffocatingly dense as I ascended to the top floor. The Alpha's office was a fortress of dark oak and leather, but it was his scent that truly dominated the space—a potent, overwhelming mix of sharp cedar, aged whiskey, and biting winter wind. It was a scent that demanded absolute submission.
Damien Blackwood stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at the training grounds. His broad shoulders were tense, radiating a dark, volatile energy.
"Your tea, Alpha," I murmured, setting the tray on his massive desk.
I turned to leave, eager to escape the crushing weight of his aura.
"Wait, Seraphina."
His deep voice sent a shiver down my spine. I stopped, turning back slowly. Damien turned around, his piercing gray eyes locking onto mine. There was a calculated coldness in them today, masking the fractured soul beneath.
"There is an Inter-Pack Gala this Saturday," he stated, his tone leaving no room for interruption. "My mother is growing overly concerned about my... stability. More importantly, Chloe Richmond will be attending."
Just hearing his ex-fiancée's name seemed to drop the room's temperature. Chloe’s public rejection had nearly destroyed him, leaving a power vacuum that every neighboring pack was eager to exploit.
"I need a date," Damien continued, stepping closer. "And I have chosen you."
I blinked, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Me? Alpha, with all due respect, Chloe despises Rogues. Bringing me would be an insult to her."
"Exactly," a dark, dangerous smirk touched his lips. "Chloe prides herself on her pureblood lineage. Seeing me with a Rogue will shatter her arrogant ego. Furthermore, you are wolfless. You won't trigger any lingering, complicated mate-bond instincts, and you have no ties to the political ladder within my pack. You are a blank slate."
He was using me as a weapon. A disposable pawn in his game of vengeance.
"I don't want to be involved in pack politics," I said, my voice trembling slightly.
Damien closed the distance between us. The sheer force of his presence made my breath hitch. "Do this, play your part flawlessly, and I will grant you permanent pack protection and enough wealth to start over anywhere in the human world. Refuse, and your temporary sanctuary ends today."
It wasn't a request. It was an ultimatum. The human world was dangerous, but the rogue lands were a death sentence. I swallowed the lump in my throat, my survival instinct overriding my fear.
"I'll do it."
"Good." The tension in his jaw relaxed slightly, though his eyes remained intense. "Be at my private study tonight at eight. We will have dinner and discuss the parameters of our arrangement."
My stomach plummeted. The private study was his inner sanctum, a place strictly off-limits to anyone but his Beta. Going there would instantly paint a target on my back for every jealous she-wolf in the pack.
"Can't we discuss it here?" I asked, taking a small step back.
"It is just a necessary briefing, Seraphina," Damien said, his voice dropping an octave, laced with a subtle, undeniable Alpha's Command that made my knees lock in place. "Eight o'clock. Do not be late."
I gave a stiff nod and hurried out of the office. As the heavy oak door clicked shut behind me, I leaned against the cool wall of the corridor, my pulse racing as I realized I had just traded one dangerous wilderness for another.
Continue Reading
The Alpha's Secret Fake Rogue Luna of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5
Chapter 6 Ch. 6
Chapter 7 Ch. 7
Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
New Release Novels
7.5
To save my family's dying company, I was forced to marry a billionaire I hadn't seen in fourteen years.
But right outside the City Clerk's office, he tossed our marriage certificate at me like a cheap receipt and shoved a four-year-old boy into my arms.
"Your new life has begun. You're on babysitting duty now."
He sneered and left me stranded on the sidewalk. I realized with absolute horror that my new husband was Ellsworth Marshall, the sickly boy I had relentlessly bullied in middle school.
He didn't spend five billion dollars to save the Bradford family. He bought me to execute a slow, suffocating revenge.
He used his orphaned nephew as a pawn, explicitly threatening my father that if I failed to play the perfect, compliant nanny, he would instantly destroy our family's legacy.
He even had his guards lock me out of his Long Island estate on my first night, forcing me to stand in the cold dark just to prove he owned me.
I was trapped in a gilded cage, suffocated by the guilt of my past and the terror of my present.
Why did he involve an innocent child in his twisted vendetta? How much humiliation was enough to pay for my childhood cruelty?
Looking at the terrified little boy clinging to my skirt, I tightened my grip on my suitcase.
If he wanted to destroy my will piece by piece, I had to find a way to survive the monster I created.
8.6
I was the youngest Paladin in history, the absolute pride of the Azure Blade.
But after a disastrous mission in the snow, I was falsely accused of slaughtering my own squad.
Grand Master Bernardo Rowe didn't just exile me; he surgically severed my connection to the magic Aether, turning me into a crippled mortal.
Desperate to survive, I tried to climb the Holy Stairs to reclaim my legendary sword, "Rebellion."
Instead of answering my call, my own blade shrieked in absolute rejection and blasted me down the thousand stone steps.
My bones snapped like dry twigs, and I was left in a pool of my own blood.
The pilgrims laughed at me. The guards declared me a lost cause and left me to rot in the dirt.
I should have died there, betrayed by the Order and the holy magic I once served.
But a silent, massive laborer named Cato Sims dragged my mangled body into the shadows.
He healed my shattered skeleton in mere days with impossible skill, yet he allowed lowly servants to spit on him and beat him just to keep my presence hidden.
I didn't understand why my holy sword had abandoned me, and I understood even less why this stranger was protecting a condemned criminal.
When I finally snapped and demanded to know his price for saving my life, he didn't ask for money or my body.
"The mountain does not forget its debts. I am reclaiming what was taken from it."
Staring into his unyielding eyes, I realized my exile wasn't the end, but the beginning of a terrifying truth.
8.7
For seven years, I was Alpha Zane’s Chosen Mate, suppressing my warrior instincts to be the docile, supportive partner he demanded.
On our seventh anniversary, while I waited by a candlelit table, I accidentally overheard his mind-link with another woman.
"Seven years is a habit, my dear, not love. She's docile, she'll understand."
He told Seraphina, his new political ally, laughing as he dismissed my entire existence.
I didn't scream or cry. I scraped the anniversary cake into the trash, drafted a formal rejection letter, and walked out of the packhouse.
But Zane didn't even notice my departure. He was so consumed by his new lover that my rejection letter was treated as garbage and tossed into the incinerator.
He paraded Seraphina around the pack, even handing my hard-earned strategic command over to her—a woman who knew absolutely nothing about war.
When my loyal subordinates protested, he violently suppressed them, declaring my absence a "childish tantrum" and framing me as the bitter obstacle to his destined romance.
He honestly thought I was just hiding in my room, waiting to beg for his charity and accept a humiliating demotion.
He had no idea that I had already crossed the border into enemy territory.
Tonight, I am attending his grand celebration.
Not as the heartbroken mate he discarded, but as the newly appointed Gamma of his deadliest rival, the Sterling Pack.
7.4
I was only fifteen when my venomous family orchestrated my doom by forcing me into an arranged marriage with mafia heir Javier Velasquez.
On our wedding night, Javier paraded strippers into our suite to show his absolute contempt, turning me into the ultimate joke of the underworld overnight.
But being a joke was a luxury compared to what came next.
Three years later, Javier needed to be a widower to marry into a heavily armed family and secure their backing for a coup.
He didn't grant me the mercy of a bullet.
Instead, he dragged me to an abandoned underground safehouse, locked me in the damp, rotting dark, and told the world I had been assassinated.
For six months, I starved in that dungeon, surviving only on the desperate hope that my family was safe.
Then, on the day of his lavish new wedding, a cruel maid kicked a plate of spoiled food onto my floor and delivered the final, fatal blow.
"Annabel is dead. Pined away and died of a broken heart two weeks ago."
My gentle mother was dead, all because she actually believed his lie about my tragic murder.
Driven by pure agony and an all-consuming hatred, I shattered crates of smuggled chemical solvents and struck a match, letting the roaring inferno turn their bloody wedding into my funeral pyre.
I thought the fire was the end.
But when I opened my eyes, the suffocating smoke vanished, replaced by the biting chill of a Long Island winter.
I was standing in the snow, back on the exact day my descent into hell began.
This time, the terrified girl was dead, and I would use their own ruthless rules to tear their empire apart.
9.2
Celestia woke up heavily sedated, her wrists bound tightly to the legs of a grand piano in a cold, opulent room.
Before she could even process the panic, a towering billionaire named Sterling Sinclair IV stepped in, looking at her like a possessed piece of art.
The head maid then handed Celestia a thick surrogacy contract with her perfectly forged signature.
"You are here to bear an heir for Mr. Sinclair," the maid stated flatly.
Celestia screamed that they had the wrong person, but her desperate cries bounced uselessly off the soundproof walls.
Stripped of her clothes, phone, and identity, she was trapped on an isolated island surrounded by high-voltage electric fences and armed guards.
When she furiously fought back, Sterling physically overpowered her, punishing her resistance with brutal, terrifying dominance until she lost consciousness on the marble floor.
She didn't understand who had kidnapped her from her normal life.
Why was her biometric data perfectly faked in a classified dossier?
Who had framed her as a willing, ten-million-dollar premium product for a ruthless billionaire?
Driven by pure survival, Celestia began aggressively consuming raw garlic and bathing in harsh white vinegar to destroy her fertility and repel his touch.
And when Sterling finally reviewed her bizarre, self-sabotaging dietary logs, the terrifying truth hit his calculating mind like a physical blow.
The broken, innocent woman he had been brutally tormenting all week was never his hired surrogate.
8.6
To save my father's failing workshop from ruthless loan sharks, I sold one year of my life.
I signed a fake marriage contract with Cameron Fox, an icy billionaire who needed a wife to pacify his sick grandmother. The rules were strict: it was purely a commercial transaction, with absolutely no physical contact and no emotional attachments.
Soon after, that cold hearted man seemed different to me. Wait, is he pursuing me?
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