Rejected By The Alpha King, Claimed By The Lycan King
Scarlet Underwood had always fancied herself in love with Alpha Alex, she always knew he would be the one she would get married to. It was a dream come true to finally walk down the aisle and become not only his mate but the Luna of the pack.
However, everything came crashing down when Kayla, Scarlet's best friend, claimed she was pregnant with Alpha Alex's child.
Hurt, betrayed, and angry, Scarlet runs away.
She gets attacked by rogues but is saved by Damien, the feared Lycan King, and it is painfully obvious by the sparks flying that they are mates.
Damien, the reclusive Lycan King, is unsure what to do with his mate.
He harbors a dark secret that may threaten to harm her if she chooses to stay with him, but he can't deny the burning attraction and pull he feels to her.
Will Scarlet open up her heart to the possibility of love after having been burned once?
And will Damien find a way around the curse and claim his mate?
Join Damien and Scarlet on their journey of love, sacrifice, and betrayals!!!
Chapters
Share
Chapter 3
Scarlet's pov
Just as the rogue is about to sink his canines into my neck, a howl echoed into the night, right before a huge black Lycan jumps in front of me.
His aura reeks of power and authority, and he stands tall, looking down at the rogues who are visibly shaken by his presence.
My wolf perks up at his presence, and she claws to be let loose as my eyes trace all his features.
That was weird.
The Lycan growled lowly, daring them to step forward and challenge him.
Their leader snared and leaped towards the Lycan.
The Lycan effortlessly sidestepped the rogue and flung it back.
The rogue stood and seemed to weigh his options. He thinks better of it when it is painfully clear that the Lycan can take them all at once.
With one last threatening growl, they retreat and disappear into the shadows.
The Lycan turns towards me, and my breath hitches when our eyes meet.
Brown hazel eyes sparkled as they stared at me, almost as if they were searching my soul.
His face was hard and unreadable.
My throat dries at how huge and muscular he is, towering over my little frame. His eyes are sharp and alert with a mix of wonder.
Electric sparks surround us, and my wolf begs to be let free.
I'm baffled by how my body craves to gravitate towards this stranger.
"Mate." His low husky voice declared, looking straight at me, and my heart dropped.
My wolf leaped for joy at his words.
"No, it couldn't be," I muttered as my eyes rolled to the back of my head and I passed out.
****
"What if she dies?" A tiny voice asked.
"Sophie, don't say such things." Someone gasped, and I groaned as I felt someone poke my side.
"Aren't you a tough one?" A voice lulled me into consciousness, and I slowly peered my eyes open.
A small girl of not over five years and a young, chubby woman towered over me and stared at me with curiosity.
"Off you go Sophie, I have a patient to attend to." The woman shooed the little girl out of the room and locked the door with a click, before returning to me.
I took in the simple cream coloured room and frowned when I realized this wasn't my bedroom.
"I'm sorry, that's my daughter. She's very curious." The woman's soft voice broke the silence.
"Where am I?" I asked, cradling my banging head within my hands.
"In the Moonlit Lycan pack." She informed me, and my eyes bulged.
The events of the past day flooded my memory, and I plopped down on the bed in defeat.
"Who brought me here?" I asked.
"Damien, the Lycan King." She shrugged, and my heart stopped.
It couldn't be.
This had to be some sick joke from nature.
Of all the people in the world to be my mate, it had to be the Lycan King. A wolf feared by all throughout the kingdom.
I marvelled at how, in less than a day, I had gone from almost getting married to the love of my life to finding out he was having a child with my best friend and then almost getting killed by rogues if not for the timely appearance of my mate.
My mate, the Lycan king.
"You don't need to seem so frightened, dear, I know what the rumours say, but when you get to know him, you'll discover he is nothing like that." The woman looked at me with a soft smile.
"Who are you?" I asked, gulping down the water she offered me greedily.
"Emma, the pack doctor." She introduced herself.
"King Damien asked me to inform him when you are awake." She commented and a strange emotion I couldn't place gripped my heart at the thought of staring into those brown hazel eyes again.
"I'm not sure I'm up for company just yet," I muttered, trying to avoid any interaction with him until I could decipher how I felt about everything.
"I can't disobey his orders." She told me.
She went to the door and spoke to whoever stood behind it before returning to me with a frown on her face.
"Is he standing outside the door?" Panic spiked through me.
"No, those are the guards he stationed at your door." She explained.
"Guards?" I quirked a brow at her.
"Just a formality." She shrugged.
"King Damien has ordered you rest and regain your strength before he visits you." She informed me.
That was exactly what I wanted, so why did I feel disappointed instead of relieved at her words?
Why didn't my mate want to see me?
"How fast do you think the wound would heal, and would I be able to leave?" I asked her as she changed the dressing on my abdomen, where the rogue had bitten me.
"I don't know about leaving." She looked up at me wearily.
But it should take a day or two at most for you to heal, your wolf is very strong and is helping to speed up the healing process." She revealed and I merely nodded.
Once I was strong enough to be on my feet again, I would leave this place, regardless of whatever my mate had to say about it.
"I tried to save your gown, but I'm afraid it was unredeemable." She divulged.
It was then I noticed I wasn't clad in my white wedding dress; rather I was in a simple black tank top and shorts.
My heart clenched at the mention of my wedding gown.
I should have been marked and happily married by now.
"It doesn't matter, you could burn it if you like. I want to have no physical reminders." I gritted out, and the woman stared at me in bewilderment, no doubt surprised at the venom laced in my words.
Because the last thing on my mind right now, is taking revenge against those motherfuckers who betrayed me.
"Alex, Kayla..." I breathed heavily, my fist clenched in anger.
You may also like
8.5
Everyone knew Caroline loved Jacob, the frail man in a wheelchair, even giving up her chance at marrying into wealth for him.
She devoted everything to his recovery, enduring hardship and humiliation to help him stand again.
When he finally recovered, they were praised as perfect together-until danger came.
Faced with saving her or her sister, Jacob chose the latter without hesitation. Only in her final moments did Caroline realize his heart was never hers.
Reborn, she made a different choice, choosing power over love.
When Jacob later begged, she looked down coldly. "I have no interest in men who can't stand on their own."
8.3
When Eli is forced to enroll at Blackwood Academy, he thinks it is just another remote boarding school. But on his first night, he realizes the terrifying truth.
This school is a prison.
Trapped in endless, deadly time loops, students are forced to complete cruel, supernatural trials. Ghosts, cursed hallways, hidden rules, and unspeakable creatures hunt them after dark. The only way to stay alive is to solve mysteries, earn credits, and obey the academy's twisted commands.
No one remembers how they arrived.
No one has ever graduated.
No one leaves alive.
Eli must team up with other desperate students to uncover the academy's century-old secret. If they fail, they will be trapped in the nightmare forever.
At Blackwood Academy, survival is the only exam.
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.
9.2
I woke up suffocating in the dark, only to find my mind trapped inside a tiny, plump, and entirely uncoordinated body.
A cold, mechanical voice echoed in my brain, announcing that I was dead in my original world and had transmigrated into a corporate revenge novel as the six-month-old illegitimate daughter of Edward McClure, the story's ruthless villain.
The system mercilessly outlined my doomed fate. Tonight, my cold-blooded father would abandon me to a state orphanage. By age two, he would officially sign my rights away, leaving me to die miserably at the hands of human traffickers. Outside my nursery, I could hear his terrifying footsteps approaching, his voice devoid of any human warmth as he debated throwing me out like garbage. I was completely helpless, trapped in a baby's body, staring up at a man who looked at me with pure, visceral disgust.
Why did I have to be reborn as the tragic cannon fodder of a tyrant destined to put a bullet in his own head? How was I supposed to win over a severe germaphobe when my unequipped infant reflexes made me literally pee and vomit all over his pristine Tom Ford suits?
"Your ultimate mission is to prevent Edward McClure's self-destruction. Step one: Survive tonight's abandonment crisis."
Hearing the system's terrifying ultimatum, I swallowed my adult panic, forced a pool of pitiful tears into my large eyes, and reached my chubby little hands toward the monster.
7.3
Ciel Miller opened her eyes to the blinding lights of a Manhattan ballroom, realizing she had been reborn on the exact night her life was ruined.
On the stage, the billionaire patriarch of the Chavez family was proudly announcing her engagement to his arrogant grandson, Harry.
In her past life, Ciel had blindly accepted his outstretched hand. That single step plunged her into a suffocating marriage filled with public humiliation and psychological torture, slowly draining her life away until she died. Harry had treated her like a pathetic stray dog, flaunting his absolute ownership while systematically destroying her.
Now, as the polite applause echoed, Harry extended his hand with a sickening smirk, waiting for her to lower her head and submit.
Instead, Ciel stood perfectly rigid and publicly rejected him in front of the entire New York elite.
Harry's face drained of color, while his family quickly mocked her.
"This is a cheap, embarrassing trick to get his attention," his sister sneered.
Harry's arrogant smirk crawled back. He fully believed she was just throwing a childish tantrum to make him jealous, convinced she was absolutely nothing without his wealth and status.
But Ciel looked at the man who had killed her in her past life with freezing disgust.
Then, she turned to the powerful patriarch and dropped a bombshell that left the entire ballroom gasping for air.
"If the family insists on taking care of me, I will marry into the Chavez family."
"But I want to marry the comatose war hero. I want to marry General Deacon Chavez."
She would rather spend the rest of her life with a "vegetable" than wake up next to a monster.
7.9
Cora Foster was a brilliant archaeologist, but a jagged burn scar across her face made the world treat her like a contagious monster.
During an elite excavation of a Gilded Age crypt, touching an ancient artifact triggered a terrifying memory. She remembered being Seraphina Beaumont, a socialite brutally buried alive by her vain, cruel sister, Isolde.
When the team pried open the crypt's pristine mahogany casket, they cheered, believing the mummified corpse inside was Seraphina. But Cora recognized the onyx hairpin and the angular jawline. It was Isolde. The sister who had stolen her life, mocked her agony, and left her to suffocate in the dark. Her colleagues scoffed at her forensic proof, dismissing her as a scarred, delusional liability.
Worse, the ruthless billionaire funding the expedition, Julian Montgomery, was the spitting image of Alistair—the man Seraphina had deeply loved. Why was Julian staring at her ruined face with such intense, inexplicable recognition? And why did Isolde take Seraphina's most precious silver ring to the grave?
Driven by a century of agonizing grief, Cora secretly pried the tarnished ring from the mummy's stiff, dead fingers and dropped it into her pocket.
"What are you looking at, Foster?"
Julian's deep voice vibrated inches from her ear, his cold, predatory eyes locked directly onto her half-open pocket.