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The Feral Alpha's Secret Wolfless Mate Novel Cover

The Feral Alpha's Secret Wolfless Mate

In my past life, I used a black-market aphrodisiac mixed with my white peach and jasmine scent to seduce the volatile Second Alpha Son. But the drug pushed his pureblood Inner Wolf into a violent frenzy, turning me into his broken, captive Breeder. I thought my devotion would eventually earn his love, but I was completely wrong. The other maids mocked my Wolfless status, and when the East Wing's deadly politics targeted me, Jaren watched with cold, golden eyes. "A Wolfless freak could never be a real Omega," they sneered, leaving me to die an agonizing death on a cold stone floor. Until my last breath, I couldn't understand why my desperate love only bought me a terrifying execution. Opening my eyes again, I was back on the very night I made the fatal mistake, pinned under his scorching weight. This time, I bit his shoulder, slipped out of his bed, and scrubbed my skin raw with harsh lye soap and mud to hide my scent. When the Pack House Manager lined us up the next morning hunting for the girl who triggered the Alpha's feral Heat, another maid eagerly stepped forward. "It was me, sir. I served Lord Jaren last night." Watching her being dragged away to become his new Breeder, I calmly lowered my head and gripped my broom. Let her take the deadly target on her back. This time, I just want to buy my freedom and get as far away from him as possible.
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Chapter 4

Eliana POV

The steam clung to my clothes, dampening the wood ash and lye soap on my neck. If the water washed away my disguise, the beast waiting in the other room would instantly recognize the scent he had tasted last night.

Heavy footsteps echoed on the wet tiles. Jaren loomed through the mist, his broad chest bare, his eyes glowing a dangerous, predatory gold. I hunched my shoulders, shrinking into the oversized laborer's tunic, making myself look as small and pathetic as possible. The harsh, acidic stench of lye soap billowed off me in the humid air.

Jaren’s nose crinkled. His Alpha aesthetics and volatile Inner Wolf recoiled in pure disgust at the sight and smell of me. He snatched the towel from my trembling hands, his lip curling into a sneer.

"Get this repulsive stench out of my sight," he snarled, his voice dripping with venom. "Leave."

I didn't need to be told twice. I practically fled into the corridor, pulling the heavy oak doors shut behind me. I leaned against the cool wall, gasping for air, my heart hammering against my ribs. I had survived.

"Look at you. Like a rat scurrying in the dark."

I looked up. Jessenia stood a few feet away, draped in a sheer silk nightgown that left nothing to the imagination. The suffocating cloud of her cheap floral perfume almost masked the nervous sweat underneath.

She stepped close, her fingers pinching my chin with cruel force. "Listen closely tonight, Wolfless," she whispered, her eyes alight with arrogant malice. "Listen to how a pureblood Alpha treats a real Omega. You'll always just be dirt beneath our feet."

She pushed past me, her hips swaying as she slipped into the hot spring. I rubbed my jaw, a cold sneer touching my lips. She had no idea what kind of monster she was walking into.

It didn't take long. Less than ten minutes later, a terrifying wave of Alpha Aura bled through the thick wood of the doors, so oppressive it drove me to my knees.

Inside, Jessenia shrieked. It wasn't a cry of pleasure, but of pure, soul-crushing terror. The scalding steam had washed away her cheap perfume, exposing her painfully ordinary Omega scent. Jaren’s beast had realized the deception.

He didn't kill her. Instead, for the rest of the night, I sat huddled on the floor in the corridor, listening to her agonizing, forced moans of fake pleasure as he used his crushing aura to break her wolf into submission. I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself. That was meant to be me.

By dawn, the moans had faded into hoarse, broken sobs. The doors opened, and a bruised, hollow-eyed Jessenia stumbled out, looking like a ghost before disappearing down the hall.

"You." Jaren's voice cracked like a whip from the bedroom. "Get in here."

I wiped my sweaty palms on my tunic and entered. The room was a wreck, reeking of dark rum, cedar, and pure Alpha rage. Jaren stood by the window, his chest heaving, a fresh black shirt draped over his shoulders.

"Button it," he commanded.

I stepped into his personal space, my hands shaking as I reached for the bottom button. The damp corridor air and my own sweat had eaten away at my disguise. As my fingers brushed his chest, he suddenly froze.

He inhaled sharply.

His eyes snapped down to me, flashing a brilliant, feral gold. A low growl vibrated in his chest—a possessive *Mine!* Before I could pull back, his massive hand clamped around my wrist, his grip so tight I thought my fragile bones would snap.

"Where were you last night?" he demanded, his voice a lethal, silken threat. His gaze sliced through my ugly disguise, searching for the truth.

"I... I was sick, My Lord," I stammered, the pain in my wrist bringing tears to my eyes. "In my room. Throwing up."

Jaren didn't let go. He leaned down, his nose brushing the exact spot on my collarbone where his teeth had pierced me twenty-four hours ago, inhaling the faint, lingering trace of white peach and jasmine hidden beneath the ash.

"Is that so?"

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