The cursed Alpha Virgin bride

The darkness was heavy, but for the first time in years, it wasn't cold. It was a living, breathing weight that wrapped around me like a shield. I was floating in a haze of sleep, drifting on a sea of cedar and ozone. Something hard and warm was pressed against my back, a furnace of body heat that seeped through my thin shirt. A heavy arm was draped possessively over my waist, pulling me flush against a solid chest.

My Inner Wolf, usually a vigilant sentry, was practically purring in the back of my mind. Mate, she sighed, curling up in the warmth. Safe. I nuzzled backward instinctively, seeking more of that intoxicating heat. A low rumble groan vibrated against my spine a sound of deep, unconscious contentment.

Then, the world shattered. BANG. BANG. BANG. The pounding on the door echoed like gunshots. Draven"! Whitmore! Are you in there?" Althea's shrill voice pierced the sanctuary of the room. "I need to speak to you! It's urgent!" The arm around my waist tightened violently, not in affection, but in sudden, rigid tension.

The body behind me went stiff. The peaceful silence of the room was instantly replaced by a suffocating wave of aggression. I gasped, my eyes flying open just as the man behind me roared. "What the hell!" I was shoved hard. I tumbled off the edge of the mattress, landing on the thick carpet with a thud. Scrambling to my feet, I spun around, my heart hammering against my ribs. Sitting up in the center of the massive bed was a giant. Draven Whitmore. The Alpha.

Even in the dim morning light, he was terrifying. His chest was bare, rippling with muscles that were currently tense with rage. His hair was a chaotic mess, and his eyes... his eyes were glowing a predatory gold, the beast within him fighting for control. He looked at me, and the air in the room dropped ten degrees. "Who are you?" His voice was a low growl that vibrated in the floorboards. "And why were you in my bed?"

I straightened my spine, refusing to cower, even though every instinct screamed at me to run. My Inner Wolf bristled, offended by his tone. "I didn't put myself there, Alpha," I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me. "Your sister directed me to this room. She said it was the guest suite."

Draven swung his legs off the bed and stood up. He towered over me, radiating power so thick it tasted like metal on my tongue. He stalked toward me, invading my personal space until all I could smell was his scent angry, spicy cedar. "You expect me to believe that?" he sneered. "You think I don't know a social climber when I see one? You snuck in here while I was asleep, hoping for me to mark you." "Mark me?" I laughed, a sharp, incredulous sound.

"You were the one holding me, Whitmore. You were the one clinging to me like a teddy bear. Your wolf didn't seem to mind my presence at all." His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking violently. "My wolf," he snarled, stepping closer, "wants to rip out the throat of any intruder. Do not mistake his patience for acceptance." He reached out, perhaps to grab my arm and throw me out, but he stopped. His hand froze mid-air. We were close now. Too close. The morning sun sliced through the gap in the curtains, illuminating my face. Draven’s gaze locked onto mine. The golden glow in his irises flickered, revealing the stormy gray beneath. He stared at my eyes, his breath hitching in his throat.

For a second, the rage vanished, replaced by a look of utter, devastating confusion. It was as if he was seeing a ghost. "Those eyes..." he whispered, his voice cracking. My heart skipped a beat. The connection between us pulled taut, a magnetic force urging me to touch him, to soothe the sudden anguish etched on his face. But just as quickly as it appeared, the vulnerability was walled off. His expression hardened into ice. "Get out," he commanded, the Alpha tone slamming into me like a physical blow.

"Get out of my room. Now." I didn't wait to be told twice. I grabbed my trunk from the floor, shooting him one last look of disdain. "With pleasure." I marched to the door, yanked it open, and into the hallway. Althea was waiting right there, leaning against the opposite wall with a smirk plastered on her face. She looked from me to the open door, her eyes gleaming with malicious triumph. "Rough morning?"

she cooed, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "I told you, didn't I? He doesn't like trash in his bed". I paused, smoothing down my rumpled shirt. I could feel Draven’s burning gaze on my back from the doorway, and I knew he was listening. I turned to Althea, letting a slow, lazy smile curve my lips. I didn't look like a victim. I looked like a woman who had just learned a very interesting secret. "Actually, Althea, I should thank you," I said, my voice smooth and loud enough to carry into the room behind me. Althea's smirk faltered.

"What?" I stepped closer to her, leaning in as if sharing a confidence. "I haven't slept that well in years. And you know..." I tilted my head, glancing back toward the Alpha's bedroom before locking eyes with her again. "He's much cuter when he's asleep. Less barking, more cuddling. It seems the big bad Alpha is just a little spoon at heart". Althea's face turned a delightful shade of purple. Behind me, I heard a low, furious growl erupt from the bedroom, followed by the sound of something heavy smashing against a wall. "Moon Goddess works in mysterious ways,"

I whispered to her, winking. Before she could recover from the shock, I hoisted my bag onto my shoulder and walked down the hall, leaving the stunned sister and the enraged Alpha in my wake. The war had begun, and I had just won the first battle.