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The Rejected Sister Who Became the Alpha King's Luna Novel Cover

The Rejected Sister Who Became the Alpha King's Luna

Reborn on the day of the Moon Goddess Mating Ritual, Lyra knows exactly how this story ends — her sister Cressa pushes her off a cliff after stealing her crown. In her last life, Lyra saved a fallen Alpha prince in the Blackthorn Woods, bore him the only pureblood heir the werewolf bloodline had seen in three centuries, and ruled beside him as Luna Queen. This time, Cressa is reborn too — and she's running toward the same forest, ready to play savior. Lyra lets her. Because becoming the Alpha's bride is the easy part. Surviving his clan's silver-laced rituals, carrying a pureblood pup that drinks its mother's life-force, and earning a King's heart — that's the part Cressa never lived through. Lyra has. And this time, she intends to watch her sister learn every lesson the hard way.
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Chapter 2

"Move," a royal guard grunted, shoving me through the arched doorway of the Moon Goddess Castle annex.

Vala, an older priestess from our coven, stumbled in right behind me. The heavy oak door slammed shut, the iron lock engaging with a loud clank.

"Bridesmaids," Vala spat, straightening her grey robes. "They drag us from the sanctuary at dusk and lock us in here to polish silver. It's an insult to the Goddess."

"It’s an order from the Alpha Prince," I said, walking toward the long wooden table. "We polish the silver, or we lose our heads."

Piles of wedding garments and ceremonial jewels cluttered the surface. Right in the center sat an open velvet box.

"Look at this," Vala murmured, reaching for it.

"Don't," I warned, snatching the box before her fingers brushed the metal.

Inside rested the royal betrothal token. A thick iron choker plated in silver, studded with raw garnets.

"A collar," Vala whispered, her eyes wide. "For a bride?"

"It signifies eternal loyalty," I lied smoothly.

I dragged my thumb over the rough edge of the center stone. In my past life, this heavy metal ring locked around my throat on my wedding night. I knew exactly what hid beneath the silver plating. Runes of suppression. When Kaelen’s bloodlust flared, the collar heated up, burning the skin to keep the wearer docile. It wasn’t a romantic gift. It was a leash.

"Take it out," Vala urged, grabbing a cloth. "Let me polish the stones."

"No need. It's perfectly ready for my sister." I snapped the lid shut.

"He's dangerous, Lyra," Vala said, lowering her voice. "They say he tore three rogues apart with his bare hands during the ambush. Elara is a fool to want him."

"She made her choice."

A sharp knock interrupted us. The door swung open, revealing a pale maid in royal livery.

"Lyra of the Thorne pack," the maid announced. "The future Princess demands your presence in the master suite."

I followed the maid through the winding, torch-lit corridors. The air grew thicker the higher we climbed into the Alpha’s private wing.

"Wait here," the maid instructed, gesturing to the heavy double doors. She scurried away down the hall.

Before I could knock, the left door yanked open.

Alpha Prince Kaelen stepped out.

I immediately dropped my gaze to the floorboards. I kept my chin tucked, staring at the scuffed leather of his boots. He didn't even pause. He strode past me, his massive frame radiating heat, his hands busy buckling his heavy leather belt over his bare stomach.

The scent hit me instantly.

Musk, sweat, and the sharp, metallic tang of an Alpha's bite.

They had already mated. She hadn't even waited for the ceremony.

I stepped into the bedchamber and shut the door.

The room was a disaster. Smashed pillows, torn silk sheets, and overturned chairs painted a picture of absolute chaos.

Elara sat at the vanity, wrapped in a sheer silk robe. She dragged a gold-bristled brush through her tangled hair.

"You called for me, sister?" I asked, keeping my hands folded in front of my skirt.

"Leave us," Elara ordered the two servants cowering in the corner.

They scrambled out of the room, shutting the door tightly behind them.

Silence stretched between us.

Elara set the brush down. She stood up and walked toward me. Her bare feet made no sound on the thick rugs.

She stopped inches from my face. A fresh, bloody bite mark scarred the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

"You didn't fight for him," she said, her voice a low hiss.

"He is the Alpha Prince. I am a mere servant of the altar," I replied, my tone flat. "Why would I fight his choice?"

"Because you love him."

"I barely know him."

Elara tilted her head. She studied my face, searching for a twitch, a flinch, any sign of weakness. I gave her nothing.

"You washed bowls this morning," she whispered. "You didn't even look toward the tree line."

"I had chores."

"Liar."

Elara snatched a heavy bronze candlestick from the side table.

She swung it.

The solid metal smashed into the side of my head.

Pain exploded behind my left eye. The force knocked me sideways, sending me crashing to the stone floor. My shoulder absorbed the impact. A warm, thick liquid immediately rushed down my temple.

I didn't raise a hand to defend myself. I didn't make a sound.

I simply pushed myself up onto my knees, keeping my back straight, and looked up at her. Blood dripped off my jaw, staining the collar of my grey dress.

Elara stood over me, her chest heaving. The candlestick dangled from her grip.

"You didn't scream," she noted, her eyes narrowing into slits.

"Should I?" I asked.

"The Lyra I knew would be sobbing right now." She dropped the candlestick. It clattered violently against the stones. "She would be begging for mercy. She would be demanding to know why her beloved sister struck her."

"People change."

"No." Elara crouched down, grabbing a fistful of my hair. She yanked my head back, forcing me to expose my throat. "People don't change overnight. You knew Kaelen was in the woods. You knew, and you stayed away."

"I didn't—"

"Shut up!" She twisted my hair tighter. "You gave him to me. You let me take the glory."

"You earned it, Elara."

"Did I?" She leaned in, her nose almost touching mine. "Or did you set me up?"

I maintained my blank expression, ignoring the throbbing ache in my skull. "I don't know what you mean."

"I died," Elara whispered, the words trembling with sudden, vicious rage. "I drank poison in a damp cell while you sat on a throne. I felt my organs burn. I felt my lungs collapse. I died hating you."

My pulse hammered against my ribs.

She knew.

"And then I woke up," she continued, her grip on my hair tightening. "I woke up in my old bed, on the exact day the Prince was ambushed. I ran to the woods to steal your destiny. But you weren't even trying to get there."

She shoved my head backward and released me. I swayed but stayed upright.

"Tell me the truth," she demanded, standing tall. "Are you from the future? Do you remember?"

I stared at the blood pooling on the floor beside my knee.

She wasn't just a thief. She was a ghost, just like me.

But she had made a fatal miscalculation. She assumed the throne was a prize. She assumed my past life was a fairy tale.

I looked up, meeting her furious gaze, and let a cold smile stretch across my face.

"I remember everything, sister."

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