The final Game

Chosen as the Cursed Alpha's Seventh Bride

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Emilia Taylor was the most unwanted daughter of the Frostridge Pack. She had no wolf, no status, and no one who truly loved her. After failing to awaken at the age of twenty-two, she was betrayed by her lover, abandoned by her family, and finally sent by her father to the Silver Moon Pack-to become Sebastian Simons' seventh bride. Sebastian was the Alpha everyone feared. Rumor had it that none of his first six wives had met a good end, and every woman who married him eventually became another name on the list of the dead. Everyone was waiting for Emilia to die. But they did not know that her failed awakening had not left her with nothing. Instead, she had gained the ability to read minds. She could hear the malice and lies hidden behind every smile. Everyone's thoughts were open to her. Except Sebastian's. She could not hear his mind, nor could she see through his secrets. When a wolfless girl abandoned by everyone meets a cold-blooded Alpha haunted by the mystery of six dead wives, will she become his next victim-or the only one who can break the curse?

Werewolf Fantasy Betrayal Flash marriage Alpha Royalty Arranged Marriage Substitute Bride

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The sun, previously beating down on the battlefield with its heat, was now blotted out by many dark clouds. Even its majestic energy was overshadowed by a sea of pungent mist.

Filling the air was the smell of rancid blood and iron, sickening enough to make your stomach churn.

It was the smell of rancid blood and iron. But it was that smell that helped him focus in the fog.

There he stood. The figure of a man could be seen, alone, looking onwards. His name was Jacender Ashfield. Proud son of the Ashfield line and guardian of the gate.

The mist slowly dissipated, revealing dozens of strewn bodies laid all around him. It was apparent that Jacender remained the last man standing.

"Khak!! Khak!!" he coughed fiercely into his hand.

He had become exhausted from the raging battle against the demon hordes. So much so that he fell to his knees, blood on his glove.

"D-Damn it!!" He grunted, propping himself up with the hilt of his sword.

Just as he started to rise, a domineering voice came from overhead.

"Stay down…or die."

Peering up toward the voice, all Jace could see blood red skin. And it's wearers were a seemingly endless army of demons.

'Ravishers. And even more than before…' he thought, tight-lipped.

They were all ready to devour him with their jagged teeth, however they maintained their distance.

It was clear why.

Above them, perched on the hill above, dressed in white, a figure--presumably the boss, stood, looking down at Jace.

The ravishers would not attack unless given the permission.

Outfitted in a white overcoat as if to directly contradict Jace's black one, the figure also donned a white mask with carvings of an apple under one eye, and a book underneath the other. Two swords were also equipped on his waist.

Jace stared the man in the eyes with a fierce determination.

"Yeah…?" He panted mockingly as he pushed himself up.

"Ngghhh!!" his heart thumped, reverberating through his ears as he faced his enemies.

He gritted his teeth, gripping his sword and faced it at the man.

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