The Cursed King's Salvation: The Omega's Hidden Power

I was the pack's lowest Omega, scrubbing floors by day, but secretly waiting for the night my Fated Mate, the Alpha Heir Desmond, would finally claim me.

Instead, he brought home a billionaire heiress and looked at me with cold, dead eyes.

"I choose power," he sneered, rejecting our soul-bond in front of everyone. "An Omega can never be my Luna."

To seal his business deal, he sold me off like cattle to Kennedy Simmons—the "Crippled Alpha" rumored to be a broken, rot-filled monster.

On my last night in the territory, his new fiancée pushed me off a yacht.

As I drowned in the freezing water, I watched Desmond dive in.

He swam right past me to save her.

That was the moment my heart finally stopped beating for him.

They thought sending me to Seattle was a punishment. They thought I would wither away and die in the hands of a beast.

But they didn't know two things.

First, Kennedy Simmons wasn't a monster; he was a King waiting to be healed.

Second, I wasn't a weak Omega. I was a White Wolf, a legend thought to be extinct, capable of miracles.

Three months later, Desmond stood outside my gates, bankrupt and desperate, begging for a second chance.

I looked down from my balcony, wrapped in the arms of my true Alpha, and smiled.

"Get off my property," I commanded, my eyes glowing white. "Or I'll finish what the ocean started."

Chapter 1

Dallas POV:

The roast beef had been in the oven for exactly four hours. The scent of rosemary and garlic filled the kitchen of the Morgan estate, masking the underlying smell of damp earth that always clung to the servants' quarters. I wiped my hands on my apron, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

Tonight was the night.

Desmond had promised.

I was an Omega, the lowest rank in the pack hierarchy. I scrubbed floors, I cooked meals, and I kept my head down when the high-ranking wolves walked by. But the Moon Goddess, in her infinite and confusing wisdom, had given me a gift that defied all social order.

Desmond Morgan, the Alpha Heir, was my Fated Mate.

I remembered the moment it happened three years ago. The air had shifted, smelling suddenly of storm clouds and fresh pine. My wolf, usually a dormant whisper in the back of my mind, had howled, Mate! The electric current that zipped through my veins when our hands brushed was undeniable. It was a biological law, a soul-tether that no amount of money or power could buy.

The front door slammed open.

"We're home!" A booming voice echoed through the hallway.

I smoothed my hair, untying the apron and tossing it aside. I walked toward the foyer, my legs trembling. Desmond was finally going to announce it. He was going to tell his father, the Alpha, that the pack's future Luna was standing right here in the kitchen.

I rounded the corner and froze.

Desmond stood there, tall and broad-shouldered, his dark hair glistening with rain. But he wasn't looking for me. His arm was wrapped possessively around the waist of a woman with sleek blonde hair and a smile that looked like it was cut from glass.

Chelsea Taylor. The daughter of the neighboring Alpha.

My wolf let out a high-pitched whine, scratching at the inside of my chest.

The scent hit me a second later. It wasn't just pine and storm clouds anymore. It was tainted. Desmond smelled like her. Their scents were mingled, a cloying mix of his musk and her expensive, floral perfume. It was the scent of intimacy.

"Dallas," Desmond said, his voice flat. He didn't let go of Chelsea. "Take Chelsea's coat. She's staying for dinner."

I stood rooted to the spot. My lungs felt like they were filled with water. "Desmond?"

Chelsea laughed, a tinkling, cruel sound. She stepped forward, shrugging off her wet trench coat and thrusting it into my arms without looking at me. "Be careful with that, Omega. It costs more than your entire life's earnings."

She leaned into Desmond, nuzzling his neck right over his scent gland. "Come on, darling. Your father is waiting."

Desmond didn't look at me. He turned, guiding her toward the dining room.

I stood there, clutching the coat that smelled like my enemy, while my mate walked away.

Dallas.

The voice echoed inside my head. It was the Mind-Link, the telepathic connection shared by pack members. But this was a private channel, directed only at me. It was Desmond.

Go to the garden. Now.

I didn't want to obey, but the command of an Alpha Heir pushed against my will, heavy and suffocating. I hung the coat and walked out the back door into the rain.

Five minutes later, Desmond appeared. He didn't come close. He stood five feet away, the rain soaking his dress shirt.

"You brought her here," I whispered. "You said... you said tonight would be different."

Stop it, Dallas, his voice hissed in my mind, though his lips barely moved. He was blocking our conversation from the rest of the pack. The merger with the Taylor Pack is worth billions. My father expects this union.

"But the bond," I choked out. "You feel it. I know you feel it. It's burning you just like it's burning me."

Desmond's jaw tightened. "I am an Alpha. I control my instincts; they don't control me. I cannot have an Omega as my Luna. It would make the pack look weak."

"So I'm just a dirty secret?"

"You are a liability," he said coldly. I am going to marry Chelsea. You will continue your duties. If you make a scene, if you embarrass me... you know what happens to wolves without a pack.

He turned and walked back toward the warmth of the house, leaving me shivering in the cold. The pain in my chest wasn't a metaphor. It felt like someone had taken a serrated knife and was slowly sawing through the invisible cord that connected our souls.

I sank to my knees in the mud, a sob tearing through my throat.

"Shh, it's okay."

A warm coat draped over my shoulders. The scent of sandalwood and old books surrounded me. I looked up through the rain to see Antone Morgan, Desmond's younger brother.

He was a Beta, lacking the sheer dominating aura of an Alpha, but he was handsome in a softer, sharper way. He crouched down, ignoring the mud staining his expensive slacks.

"He doesn't deserve you," Antone murmured, wiping a wet strand of hair from my cheek. "I saw what happened. He's a fool, Dallas."

"He chose her," I wept. "He chose the money."

"I would never choose money over you," Antone whispered. He pulled me into his arms. He felt warm. Solid. "I've watched you for years, Dallas. Scrubbing these floors, taking their abuse. You have a fire in you that they don't see."

I leaned into him, desperate for any comfort to numb the agony of the rejection. "It hurts, Antone. It hurts so much."

"I know," he soothed, rubbing circles on my back. "Let me take care of you. Let me be the one to protect you from him."

I looked up at him, my vision blurry. In the darkness of the garden, his eyes seemed full of kindness. I was drowning, and he was the only driftwood in the ocean.

"Why?" I asked brokenly. "I'm just an Omega."

Antone smiled, and he leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear. "Because to me, you're the only thing in this house that's real."

I closed my eyes, letting the lie soothe the open wound in my soul. I didn't see the way his eyes flicked toward the dining room window, where Chelsea was laughing, nor the twisted hunger that darkened his gaze.

I thought I had found a savior. I didn't know I had just let the devil in.