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JERICHOS WEAKNESSES

After Rebirth, I Refused the Cruel Alpha and Married the Dead Alpha King

After Rebirth, I Refused the Cruel Alpha and Married the Dead Alpha King

Bu Chuang
"For the honor of the fallen Nelson Pack, I humbly ask for Lady Kelli's hand." Demonte's voice echoed through the grand banquet hall as he knelt before the Alpha King. The crystal chandeliers blinded me, but it was the phantom pain of jagged silver blades piercing my chest that made my breath catch. I looked down at my smooth, unscarred hands. I was back. Reborn on the exact night of my seventeenth year when my life was bartered away like worthless livestock. Demonte played the chivalrous Alpha, pretending to save a "useless, wolfless orphan" like me. Beside him, his secret lover Baylee shed theatrical tears, playing the selfless martyr willing to share her man. In my past life, I believed their sickening lies. I let them use a twisted marriage rite to steal my pack's million acres and ten thousand loyal warriors, only to be locked in a dark dungeon while they slaughtered my remaining kin. My heart hammered violently against my ribs, but my blood boiled with cold, unyielding fury. Why should this adopted hypocrite be allowed to steal my inheritance and erase the sacrifice of his own pureblood brother? I refused to take Demonte's outstretched hand. Instead, I sank to the cold marble floor before the throne and demanded to fulfill an ancient honor pact by marrying his deceased brother, the fallen hero Edward Wiley. Just as the royal court erupted in mockery over my vow to a dead man, the heavy iron doors crashed open, and a terrifying, blood-drenched warrior stepped out of the freezing northern gale.
Werewolf Royalty Arranged MarriageRevengeSecond ChanceFantasyMM RomanceWerewolf
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Salisbury

April 1818

The second pint might have been a mistake.

Joseph Merton considered the stairs, which swayed a little. Yet it wasn’t every day a man discovered a fortune and the occasion demanded a celebration. He couldn’t wait to tell his wife.

A good woman, his wife. He’d thought himself lucky to get her. A humble bookseller’s assistant wouldn’t normally aspire to a pretty girl with a fine education and a knowledge of his trade. And then there had been the matter of her one thousand pounds. Enough to set him up in London. Certainly he had never expected any more.

Over dinner in the noisy tavern he raised a silent toast to Juliana, with a fondness undiluted by consideration of her more annoying traits. Her tendency to develop contrary opinions was forgotten in the prospect of a greater fortune coming his way.

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The Marquis of Chase is not a reputable man. He is notorious for his wretched morals and is never received in respectable houses. The ladies of the ton would never allow him in their drawing rooms . . . though some of them have welcomed him into their bedchambers. Ejected from his father's house at
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