
Wrapped in my Enemy's Arms
When Ayla is dragged from her school into the heart of a strange wolf territory, she expects torture-or death. Instead, she meets Alpha Kael: a man as dangerous as he is breathtaking, and a secret buried beneath his skin. His blood awakened an ancient orb-and in one night, Kael became the vessel of a living curse.
Now the orb stirs again, its power latching onto Ayla. The mark she wears, her mother's ring, links her to the prophecy whispered by the Moon goddess messenger:
"When the moon bleeds and the cursed wolf kneels, love shall either heal the wound... or end the world."
As darkness spreads through the pack and the curse consumes Kael's soul, Ayla must decide whether to save him-or destroy him before the prophecy destroys them both.
But fate has a cruel sense of humor...
Because to break the curse, the moon goddess demands the one thing neither of them is willing to give up.
Their hearts.
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Chapter 2
Ayla's POV
"I prefer treating other students than touching her. She's cursed."
A woman fumes near me.
My eyelids open slowly, I lift up my head but immediately set it down back from the throbbing pain.
"Shhh... she's awake," another says.
My hearing keeps getting wilder every day. It wasn't like the other werewolves. Maybe I was really cursed.
"Now that you're awake, can you rid yourself of this place?" the nurse says.
I lift my body gently but I'm surprised, I don't feel any pain besides the headache. I rip the bandage round my torso and check my injury.
My head snaps to the nurse as I get to my feet.
"How long have I been here?"
She only stares at me like I carried the plague before storming out.
"A few hours," the other lady says.
At least there are still people in this academy who don't mind talking to me- I hear what she says again.
"I can't possibly heal in a few hours, what happened to me?"
She only shrugs and hands me a bag before heading out.
"Wait..." I went after her – but she was gone.
I rummage through the bag to only find some of my clothes, my journal, and two other important possessions. The dagger had a crescent moon encrusted into it; it belonged to my father. The other is my mother's ring.
They were the only two memories I have left of my parents.
The silhouette of a woman approaches me. I step back- clutching the bag to my chest and holding the dagger towards her.
By the time she appears closer, I see her full body frame and my eyes widens. The same woman from my dreams. The dagger I held dropped to the ground as I stepped backwards.
"Who are you and what do you want from me?" My voice trembled. Her presence made my blood boil and I felt my wolf growl inside of me.
"Easy there, little tiger. That's not how to act to someone who saved you from the brink of death."
"I'm Kiara," she stretches her hand towards me.
"No!" I snapped.
"If you saved me, then why are you trying to poison me with the wolfsbane you've dipped your hands in?"
Her face lightens up and she begins clapping.
"You're the only wolf who has noticed that. I guess it's you then," she whispers, and her eyes begin glowing a deep shade of purple.
Oh goddess- my day just keeps getting better.
"What are you?" I growled. My claws itched to come out but my heart is pounding too fast.
"I instructed you not to talk to her!" a deep voice snarls.
Kiara's eyes immediately went back to their normal violet shade and I also felt some sort of relief, it was like she had some sort of spell over me.
"I was only checking if it was her," she purrs.
The tall and muscular man strides towards me and grabs my bag. I can't tell if he's a wolf or something else because he's masked his scent, but I know he definitely has some power.
"You're coming with us."
He throws the bag at me. I stumble in a bid to catch the bag.
"Why should I-"
Kiara snaps her thumb and middle finger, and for the second time that day, I black out.
***
By the time I gain consciousness, I'm in a strange room. It was empty except for my bag – I grabbed it and went through it. My dagger was gone.
My jaw twitched and I furled my fists tight.
Whoever took it is going to feel my wrath, but firstly, I need to get out of this room.
I shut my eyes and focus on my hearing, trying to understand where I am or just listen to conversations.
"If she's the one, you'll have to sacrifice her quickly. You're running out of time."
"Tonight or never."
My eyes widen and my heart starts racing. I really hope I'm not the person he's talking about. I try to focus again but my chest is beginning to ache. I linked with my wolf once more to heighten my senses but it led to nothing.
Something was wrong somewhere and I sensed danger.
The door slams open, bouncing against the wall and startling me. My body instantly jumps into fight or flight mode. I haven't come this far to just lose like this.
"Follow me," the muscular man says.
I want to tell him no- what makes him think he can throw commands at me? But if I am going to escape, I need to get out of this room first.
My teeth grind against each other as I follow him.
We walked through a room with high walls. It is very different from the academy, which didn't have any beautiful architecture, but it was where I grew up comfortably. Golden moon crusts were embedded into the wall and several ancient writings of which I didn't understand.
The middle of the room contained sculptures of wolves slaughtering night creatures. The only one I recognize is the basilisk; a deadly night serpent. Thank goddess they're not real.
We stop in front of a large door.
"Wait here," the man says.
I only nod, but the moment he enters, I glance around. When I see no one around, I run towards the exit, moving as light as my feet can carry.
I managed to find a door. It was open and empty. I turn to leave but my mind keeps pulling towards the room, like a magnet to iron- I finally entered.
The strong scent of that same male I don't know fills the room. It had a huge bed, ceiling-to-floor burgundy curtains, and a sharp wood and spice scent. My wolf stirred.
I let my hand graze the wooden cupboard in the room... then I sensed it, there was something in there. My wolf instincts doubled and were instantly sharper- I heard footsteps coming and I immediately ran into the closet to hide, ensuring I held my breath as the huge stature strides in.
The scent hits me again- dark spice and wood. My wolf shudders inside me. It's him. The stranger who saved me. The one my instincts crave.
He enters the room, and that's when I see his face. He's the man who handed me my bag at the infirmary. He had masked his scent then, so I couldn't recognize him.
He begins taking off his shirt, and as much as I want to look away, I'm forced to stare. His upper body is perfectly sculpted; six abs were a common thing at the academy, but this man had eight, and they shone with sweat. I let out a breath when I saw his deep v-line.
He stopped in his tracks. He glances through the room until his gaze lands on the closet.
My pulse stops. He knows I'm here. Shit. I think I might be fucked.
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7.5
For five years, I was locked away in the freezing royal dungeon, starved and used as a bloody plaything by the kingdom's sadistic Cabinet Minister, Brandt Fischer.
He tortured me daily for one twisted reason: I simply looked like someone else.
When he visited my cell to casually announce my father's execution and drag a silver dagger across my neck, he expected me to beg.
Instead, I laughed, sank my teeth directly into his carotid artery, and was violently thrown against a jagged stone wall to my death.
As my skull cracked and my blood stained the moss, I thought about my so-called family. The moment Brandt had demanded me, my father, the Duke, handed me over without a single hesitation to save his own political career.
I was nothing but a disposable pawn, left to rot in the dark while the monsters who ruined my life thrived.
I died suffocating on my own blood and absolute, destructive vengeance.
Then, I opened my eyes.
I was lying in my silk-sheeted bed, reborn as my fifteen-year-old self.
Today was the exact day Lord Daryl Langley, the God of War, would be ambushed and crippled—the event that allowed Brandt to seize ultimate power.
I immediately stole a horse, rode to the palace gates, and threw myself directly in front of Daryl's moving carriage.
"I just didn't want to see a hero die like a slaughtered pig."
I didn't care if I had to shatter my own ankle to hijack his convoy. This time, I was going to save the general, and he would become the blade I use to slaughter them all.

9.0
Isolde woke up in a freezing, ruined stone house with a splitting headache and only five percent of her life signs remaining.
Before she could even process the mechanical system voice in her head, a flood of violent memories slammed into her.
She had transmigrated into the body of a cruel noblewoman who mercilessly tortured her beastmen husbands with a barbed whip.
And right now, she was lying in a pool of her own blood, having been shoved against the stone floor by one of them.
Outside the rickety door, her husbands were coldly discussing her death.
"Just go in and finish her. One stab, and we're free."
"If she hit her head and died on her own, then it's an accident. We walk out of here as free males."
To test if she was faking her sudden amnesia, the snake beastman Dangelo even ground his heavy military boot into her injured hand, waiting for her to snap so he could legally end her.
She was poisoned, freezing, and entirely at the mercy of the men who deeply despised her.
She was bearing the deadly consequences of a monster she never was, with a red system warning of imminent death flashing in her mind.
But they didn't know the new Isolde had awakened a survival system and Life Magic.
She swore a blood oath to the Beast God to buy herself three months of time.
Then, she turned her sights to the dying wolf beastman chained in the shed, deciding to pull him back from hell to become her very first shield.

7.2
The Royal Pack’s glowing moonstone token rested in my palm.
Before I could even process the miracle of my rebirth, my half-sister Alyssa snatched it right out of my hand.
"This destiny is mine, little sister. Enjoy your cursed Alpha," she sneered.
My family easily caved to her whining. They forced me to take her place and marry Alpha Kaelen, a man they called an insane, crippled monster with three feral adopted sons. They laughed, expecting his beast to tear me apart before the honeymoon was over.
Alyssa thought she was stealing my crown. She didn't know she had just stolen my death sentence.
In my previous life, that exact token had made me the Alpha King’s Luna. But I was just a convenient, disposable meat shield for his true human mate. I died agonizingly, choking on poison meant for her, while the King didn't even blink.
I lowered my head, forcing my shoulders to tremble as if holding back terrified sobs. I played the part of the pathetic, wolfless Omega they all believed me to be.
But beneath my fake tears, I felt a profound relief.
I remembered the Kaelen from my past life. He wasn't a monster. He was powerful, agonizingly lonely, and slowly destroyed by a dark magic no one understood.
I wisely accepted the marriage pact and walked right into his freezing manor.
I know exactly who cursed him. And this time, I will save him, protect his boys, and make his entire pack mine.

7.9
Estrella Ward gave five years of her life to her husband, draining her trust fund to save him from bankruptcy and raising his son as her own.
But one night, she woke up in a freezing hotel room, drugged, with a stranger's bite marks on her skin.
Her husband burst through the door with cameras, his vicious family, and her ten-year-old stepson, publicly framing her as a cheating whore.
The horrifying truth soon surfaced: her husband had drugged her himself, selling her body to his Wall Street boss to secure a senior partnership.
Estrella fought back with hidden security footage, blackmailing him into submission after discovering she was pregnant with his boss's child.
But fate dealt a cruel blow. She was diagnosed with aggressive, terminal breast cancer.
She refused to abort the baby to keep her leverage, but the cancer spread too fast.
She died alone in a cold hospital room, her vengeance unfinished, while her husband and his cruel family celebrated.
They thought they had successfully buried her and her secrets forever, escaping unpunished for destroying her life.
But when she gasped for air and opened her eyes again, she wasn't in a cold grave.
She was in a sterile hospital bed, looking at the perfectly manicured hands of Brooklyn Thompson—the notorious, empty-headed socialite everyone despised.
Estrella's soul had survived the abyss.
"You're going to pay for every drop of blood."
She clenched her new fists, the fire of her vengeance burning brighter than ever.

9.6
Antoinette stood on the manicured church lawn, the blinding summer sun stabbing her eyes. The funeral service for her parents had just ended.
A hand wrapped around her trembling shoulder, carrying the sharp, cloying scent of Fabian Cash's cologne. It was the exact same cologne her fiancé wore the night he locked her in a burning house to die in her previous life.
Now, wearing a mask of sorrowful devotion, Fabian tried to drag her to his car to control her parents' massive life insurance payout.
When she shoved him away in pure nausea, his mother Eleanor immediately shrieked to the crowd, deploying her usual guilt trip.
"She's lost her mind! The girl has completely snapped!"
The townspeople whispered and pointed fingers, watching Fabian play the victim as he tightened his bruising grip on her wrist, claiming she was hysterical and needed to be locked away.
Antoinette stared at the mother and son who had conspired to steal her family's estate and end her life. The rage inside her felt like battery acid pumping through her veins.
They didn't care if she lived or died; they only cared about the money. How could she let them strip her of everything again?
She didn't hesitate. She swung with every bit of strength she possessed, slapping Fabian across the face in front of the entire town.
"The engagement is over," she announced coldly.
Then, she turned her back on her greedy ex-fiancé and walked straight toward the terrifyingly powerful billionaire Hiram Graves, ready to let the world burn.

9.4
I was lying in a sterile hospital room, dying of cancer, with only a fake infertility report to keep me company.
Right before my heart monitor flatlined, a stranger walked in and handed me a medical file.
He told me that my fiancé, Garret, had zero sperm viability. The baby my adoptive sister, Beryl, was carrying wasn't his.
When Beryl got pregnant years ago, my adoptive parents forced me to break my engagement and take the blame for being barren.
I was discarded by Garret, mocked by Beryl's triumphant smiles, and kicked out of the house.
I was left to rot alone in a hospital bed while they lived the perfect life stolen from me.
My entire existence had been a cage built on a single, disgusting lie.
The anger burned away my despair. Why was I the only one who didn't know?
Why did I let them use me as a maid and a shield for their filthy secrets?
As the darkness swallowed me, I prayed for just one more chance.
I opened my eyes to the sound of my adoptive mother yelling my name.
The calendar on the wall read March 15, 2019—the exact day they forced me to give up Garret.
This time, I didn't cry or beg.
"You want Beryl to have Garret? Fine," I told my shocked adoptive parents. "But I want a cash buyout, and we are legally severing this adoption."
Then, I set my sights on Douglass Ward—the stranger from the hospital room.