Rejected by the Alpha Heir, Claimed by the Lycan Regent

Eleanor Kensington POV:

The rising heat and the sound of heavy, humid breathing shut out all traces of the wind and snow outside, while the air grew thick with the bittersweet scent of crushed heather, mingled with the bracing, assertive aroma of winter cedar.

"Wake up, little merchant," a low, metallic voice rumbled from the shadows across the room.

My consciousness gradually returned, and a hazy, pink-hued memory slowly surfaced: a man's broad, sturdy hands were tracing the curves of my slender, supple waist; his calloused palms and fingers would occasionally tease the soft flesh of my midriff, sending uncontrollable shivers across my smooth, fair skin-sensations I found

utterly delightful.

I jolted upright on the velvet mattress, my vision swimming as the lingering haze of narcotics clawed at my senses.

I turned my head toward the tall copper mirror standing near the hearth.

The reflection showed my flushed skin, my tangled golden-brown hair, and the undeniable marks of a violent mating heat.

"Looking for your dress?" the voice came again, smooth as polished silver and cold as a winter blade.

I froze, turning my eyes toward the high-backed velvet armchair by the dying hearth.

Victor Sterling, the Lycan Regent of the entire realm, sat there with his long legs crossed, casually fastening the pure silver cufflink of his black silk shirt.

In this kingdom, he was the supreme commander of the royal knight orders, an immortal pureblood whose word outranked even the regional pack lords.

His dark golden wolf eyes locked onto mine through the dim morning light, tracking my pulse like a beast sizing up cornered prey.

The suffocating dominance radiating from his body made the hair on my arms stand up.

The memories of my previous life crashed over me in a violent torrent.

Today was the annual banquet of Falcon Castle.

My husband, Tristan Beaumont, the arrogant heir of this crumbling estate, had spiked my spiced wine with a lethal dose of heat-inducing aphrodisiac.

He had lured the visiting Regent into this very chamber, knowing the drug would trigger a mutual rut, all so he could break down the door at dawn with the city council and catch us in bed.

His goal was simple: use my ruined honor to extort my family's massive trade caravans and force the Regent to sign his hereditary Alpha decree.

In my past life, they slandered me, ruined my reputation, plundered my family's assets, and I was killed in a stone cell by my mother-in-law with a cup of poison.

The big set-up was about to begin, and I had only a short time to get myself ready.

I closed my eyes for a single second, forcing down the tremor in my stomach.

I was no longer the naive Omega merchant daughter who had wept into the sheets, begging for mercy while my husband stripped me of my birthright.

The room reeked of our mating, a raw blend of Alpha and Omega scents that no wolf in the castle could miss.

"Your dress was shredded to ribbons during our rather energetic accident," Victor said, his tone dripping with dry amusement as he spun a broken mother-of-pearl button between his scarred fingers.

I gripped the heavy silk morning robe tangled at the foot of the bed and wrapped it tightly around my bruised body.

"Did you enjoy the trap, Your Grace?" I asked, my voice flat and steady despite the trembling in my knees. "Or does the supreme Lycan Regent usually allow a backwater castle like this to drug his wine?"

Victor let out a soft, dangerous chuckle.

He rose to his feet.

His towering frame blocked the faint dawn light, casting a massive shadow across the bed.

Before I could shift away, his calloused fingers closed around my jaw, forcing my face up.

"Watch your tongue, Eleanor," he murmured, his thumb pressing firmly against the pulse point beneath my ear. "If my inner beast hadn't been fighting off silver-laced venom, do you honestly believe these castle rats could have put you in my bed?"

His golden eyes flashed with a primal, predatory storm.

I stared straight into his gaze, refusing to flinch even as the grip on my jaw tightened.

"Then let go of me, Your Grace," I whispered, the words slicing through the heavy air. "Because in less than five minutes, my loving husband will be standing on the other side of that door with half the castle guard."

Victor narrowed his eyes, his brow arching in mild surprise at my lack of tears.

He released my chin and stepped back, his hands resting easily at his sides.

The moment his fingers left my skin, I swung my bare legs over the edge of the mattress.

The icy oak floorboards sent a shock of reality straight up my spine.

I walked straight toward the vanity in the corner, my knuckles turning white as I clenched my fists.

Tristan.

Beatrice.

You thought today would be the start of your glorious rise.

You have no idea that you just opened the gates of your own ruin.