Reborn As The Alphas' Hated Mate
I woke up in a lavish bedroom, only to find a man built like a god of war chained to my wall, glaring at me with pure, unadulterated hatred.
A glowing apparition appeared and told me I had died in a car crash and transmigrated into the body of Elara, a tyrant Luna. Worse, the chained man was Ryker, one of my six fated mates whom the original Elara had brutally tortured.
Because of her sadistic crimes-starving them, exiling them, and sending two of them on a suicide mission-my affinity with them was at negative five hundred. The apparition delivered my terrifying death sentence.
"In three days, at the Marking Ceremony, you will be killed by your six mates."
No matter what I did-freeing Ryker, sharing my food, or lifting their brother's exile-they viewed every act of kindness as a sick, twisted trap. They were just waiting for the punchline to my cruel joke, ready to expose me and end my life.
I was just a librarian who organized book clubs and paid my taxes. Why did the Goddess throw me into this doomed vessel to pay for a psychopath's blood debts? How was I supposed to survive when the men destined to love me were actively plotting to rip my throat out?
Cornered by their righteous fury, I realized playing defense wouldn't work. I grabbed a dagger, sliced my own palm over the ceremonial stone, and swore a blood oath to bring their missing brothers home-or initiate a soul-shattering Rejection Ceremony myself.
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Chapter 3
Elara Valerius POV:
Ryker stared at the key in my hand, his molten gold eyes narrowed to slits. He didn't move, didn't speak. He was a predator, coiled and wary, assessing a trap he couldn't yet comprehend. The silence stretched, thick with suspicion.
I understood. Why would he believe me?
Slowly, so as not to spook him, I bent down and placed the heavy iron key on the cold stone floor, about halfway between us. Then I took three steps back, raising my empty hands to shoulder height. It was a universal sign of surrender in my world, a gesture meant to show I was unarmed and not a threat. Here, I wasn't so sure what it meant.
He watched my every move, his gaze flickering from my face, to my hands, to the key. After a long, tense moment that felt like an eternity, he finally moved. He didn't walk towards the key. Instead, he used the length of his own chain, hooking the end of it around the key's loop and dragging it towards him across the floor. Clever. He never put himself in a vulnerable position.
As he worked the lock on his first wrist, his eyes never left me. They were burning holes into my soul, daring me to make a move, to reveal the punchline to this cruel joke. The lock clicked open. Then the second.
The moment the last silver chain fell away, clattering onto the floor, his power slammed into me. It was a physical wave of raw, untamed Alpha energy, a crushing force that buckled my knees and stole the air from my lungs. It was terrifying and, to the traitorous wolf inside me, utterly intoxicating.
I braced myself for the attack. For him to cross the room in a blur and snap my neck.
But he didn't.
He stood there, rubbing his raw, chafed wrists, his gaze fixed on me. It was a look I couldn't decipher, a maelstrom of hate, confusion, and something else I couldn't name. Without a single word, he turned and strode out of the room, his bare feet silent on the stone.
The heavy wooden door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving me alone in the suffocating silence.
I collapsed onto the floor, my body trembling, my heart beating a frantic rhythm against my ribs. A faint shimmer in the corner of my vision drew my attention. The game-like panel was visible again.
**Ryker Blackwood:** Affinity: -495 (Abject Hatred)
It was a ridiculously small change. Five points. But it wasn't -500 anymore. It was a start.
Outside in the corridor, Ryker leaned his back against the cold stone wall, his head thrown back, his knuckles white. His wolf was a raging tempest inside him, a confusing mix of elation at its freedom, fury at its captor, and a deep, agonizing pull towards its mate. It was a bond he despised, a connection he wanted to sever with his own claws.
He slammed his fist into the wall. Pain flared, sharp and grounding. He welcomed it. It was a barrier against the confusion, a reminder of the hate that had kept him sane.
The sound drew his brother. Zane appeared at the end of the hall, his hazel eyes widening first with shock, then with concern as he saw Ryker standing free.
"Ryker?" He rushed forward, his voice a low whisper. "She… she did this?"
Ryker gave a curt, sharp nod, his jaw tight. "She's not right today. This is a new trap. I can feel it."
Zane's expression hardened, mirroring his brother's suspicion. "The more she deviates from the script, the more careful we need to be."
They moved into Zane's room. It was a stark contrast to my own—a simple cot, a wooden chest, a weapon rack on the wall. It was the room of a warrior, not a prince.
"I don't care what game she's playing," Ryker said, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "The plan doesn't change."
Zane's gaze was grim. "At the Marking Ceremony?"
A murderous light flared in Ryker's golden eyes. "Yes. In front of the whole pack. We expose her for what she is, for what she's done. And then… we end her." It wasn't just about revenge. It had to be a public execution, a sanctioned act, to cleanse the pack of her poison.
"But Corbin and Silas…" Zane began, his voice laced with pain.
"We will avenge them," Ryker cut him off, his tone absolute. "It's all we can do for them now."
Back in my gilded cage, the adrenaline was fading, replaced by a gnawing, desperate hunger. I hadn't eaten in… I had no idea how long. I pushed myself to my feet and began to search the room.
I found wardrobes filled with exquisite gowns, drawers overflowing with glittering jewels, but not a single crumb of food. The original Elara had lived a life of pure indulgence, never concerning herself with something as mundane as sustenance. Servants brought her what she wanted, when she wanted it.
The hunger was making me dizzy, black spots dancing in my vision.
I heard footsteps outside the door and froze.
The door swung open and Zane stepped inside. His eyes, so much softer than his brother's, widened slightly as he took in my pale face and the disarray I'd created in my frantic search. He was here to watch me, I realized. To see what I'd do next.
This was my chance. My one and only chance to reach out to another of them.
I swallowed, my tongue feeling thick in my dry mouth. I licked my chapped lips and forced myself to meet his wary gaze. My voice was small, hesitant.
"Please… is there anything to eat?"
Zane stared at me, his face a mask of utter shock. He had likely come in here expecting screams, or demands, or some new, cruel decree. He had never, in a million years, expected the tyrant Luna to beg him for a piece of bread.
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8.4
Seraphina died betrayed. She perished in flames-poisoned by Darius, the fated mate she'd foolishly loved. Her childhood sweetheart, who sacrificed her only to save his mistress.
Reborn five years earlier, Seraphina vows: Never again. No more submissions. No more suffering his cruelty. This time, she'll rewrite her destiny - then she meets Kairos.
The Untamed Alpha King who loathes the mate bond after his own betrayal. Her second-chance mate - a bond that will kill her if she rejects it.
Now, caught between Kairos' relentless pursuit and Darius' desperate attempts to reclaim her, Seraphina faces an impossible choice:
Drown the world in vengeance... or risk her shattered heart on the mate who could either heal her scars or destroy her completely?
9.2
Clara was drowning in student debt and barely making rent when she downloaded a fantasy mobile game to escape reality.
Inside the game, an exiled prince named Alex was freezing to death. Pitying him, she spent her last few dollars on microtransactions to fix his shelter and cure his poison.
But the game was far too real.
Every time she paid, the prince reacted. When she complained aloud about going broke, the in-game army suddenly halted, as if the prince had heard her voice.
Then, the terrifying real-world consequences hit.
Clara woke up to find her water glass and a box of Kleenex had vanished from her locked bedroom overnight.
She frantically searched the tiny apartment, her heart pounding in her chest.
She thought she was losing her mind. Had she thrown them out in her sleep? Was there a stalker hiding in her home?
How could physical objects just disappear into thin air behind a deadbolted door?
Until she looked at her nightstand.
Sitting exactly where her missing items used to be was a glowing, weightless crystal cup that defied all logic.
And on her laptop screen, the exiled prince was carefully holding her Kleenex box, offering a mountain of real gold on an altar.
She hadn't just downloaded a mobile game; she had opened a cross-dimensional trade route with a desperate future king.
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.
7.5
I thought my best friend Mila and my lover Preston were my only salvation from Essex Langley, the ruthless billionaire who kept me caged in his estate.
I trusted them blindly when they planned my grand escape.
But it was all a cruel setup.
Mila deliberately leaked the plan to Essex's guards to win his favor, and Preston only wanted my family's shares to pay off his massive debts.
When we were caught in the rose garden, Preston shoved me toward the guards and ran for his life.
"You're insane if you think I actually loved a freak like you!"
I was dragged back into the manor, my ribs cracking under heavy boots.
I bled out on the freezing marble floor, staring into Essex’s unhinged, mad eyes as I took my last agonizing breath.
Until the moment I died, I couldn't accept it.
I had ruined my own life, adopting a hideous punk look with fake tattoos and piercings just to make Essex hate me, all for two people who saw me as nothing but a sacrificial lamb.
Why was my blind rebellion rewarded with such a brutal betrayal?
Opening my eyes again, the white-hot pain was gone.
I was back in the freezing bedroom on my eighteenth birthday, the very night Mila would come to orchestrate my ruin.
I looked at the rebellious, smudged stranger in the mirror.
This time, I calmly washed off the black makeup, took out my lip ring, and put on a pristine white dress.
If fighting the devil got me killed, then in this life, I would tame him and make them all pay.
8.0
She has thirty days. Ten billion dollars. And a quantum space that can swallow anything.
Kinsey Elliott died cold, starving, and betrayed—pushed into a frozen abyss by the uncle who stole her fortune.
Then she woke up.
Back in her penthouse. Back in her perfect body. Back with a silver mark on her wrist that lets her store entire warehouses of supplies in a dimension where time stands still.
The world has thirty days until a global ice age freezes everything.
Her family has thirty days to try to lock her away, steal her money, and have her killed.
And Kinsey? She has thirty days to turn ten billion dollars into an invisible fortress—and burn every last one of them to the ground.
She's not surviving the apocalypse.
She's building it.
9.0
I was the wolfless orphan taken in by the Blackwood pack, secretly in love with Ryker, the future Alpha.
At the Mating Moon ceremony, the Goddess miraculously chose me as his fated mate.
But instead of a blessing, it became my ultimate nightmare. He dragged me onto the sacred stone in front of the entire pack to publicly humiliate me.
"I reject you, Elara Vance, as my mate!"
He chose a powerful she-wolf over a freak like me. The severing of the bond nearly killed me. I accepted his rejection and fled, living as a rogue for three years to bury the agonizing echo of his betrayal.
When I finally returned to visit his sick father, I was no longer that pathetic, broken girl.
Yet, the very night I arrived, he threw a lavish engagement party with his chosen Luna, a deliberate slap in the face.
I refused to run this time. I walked into his ballroom with my head held high to prove I was finally free of him.
But the moment our eyes met across the crowded room, a soul-crushing agony exploded in my chest.
Across the hall, Ryker let out a harsh gasp, clutching his heart in identical, terrifying pain.
The sacred bond he had so ruthlessly destroyed three years ago wasn't dead.
And now, it was going to destroy us both.