When Selene Alder finds her fated mate, she thinks she's finally found love and safety-until she walks in on him with her best friend. Heartbroken and betrayed, she's cast aside not only as a mate but as a bride, discarded like she was nothing. Her ex, Alaric Davenhart, is next in line to inherit a powerful werewolf legacy from his mysterious, reclusive uncle, Cassian Davenhart-a man long rumored to be gay, childless, and uninterested in the throne. What Alaric doesn't know is that Cassian and Selene crossed paths years ago... and fate has a cruel sense of humor. When Cassian unexpectedly returns to the city, fate throws Selene into his orbit again-only this time, one drunken, passionate night changes everything. She tries to leave the night behind... until two pink lines on a test turn her world upside down. Now pregnant with the true heir to the Davenhart legacy, Selene must protect her unborn child from the wrath of a jealous ex and a world that wasn't ready for her strength. As Cassian slowly uncovers the truth-about Selene, about his nephew, and about his own heart-they both realize their connection runs deeper than blood or fate. But with betrayal, inheritance wars, and dark secrets threatening everything, will love be enough to protect what truly matters?
Chapter 1 In my best friend bed
Aria's POV
The cold bites at my cheeks as I walk out of the mall, my arms full-one bag with takeout food balanced carefully in my left hand, the other with a small, velvet box tucked neatly inside a white glossy jewelry bag. A cab should be just outside the lot, but the sidewalks are slick, and I take each step slowly.
Saturday evenings used to be my favorite. They used to mean warmth. Movie nights. Long showers and quiet thoughts. But not tonight. Tonight, everything feels... off.
I pull my coat tighter around me, exhaling into the cold. My breath clouds the air in front of me as I search my phone screen for Marla's texts.
Still nothing.
Delivered. No read.
The last thing I said was "Should I bring you some spring rolls? I know you crave them when you're stressed lol."
No response. No little dots. No blue checkmarks. Nothing.
It's weird.
Marla never ghosts me, not on weekends-especially not with my wedding coming up in just one week. She's my maid of honor. She should be with me right now, helping me pick earrings or arguing over lipstick shades. Not... missing.
I glance up at the street. The cabs are lined, but something in me resists. My gut itches with that sixth sense wolves get when something isn't right. I don't know if it's the cold, or my instincts-or maybe the way the wind carries a certain tension-but I decide right there not to go home.
I'm going to Marla's.
The ride is quiet. The driver doesn't speak, and neither do I. I just watch the lights blur past the window as we move through the city.
The farther we get, the heavier the silence in the cab grows.
And when we finally pull up outside her place-a two-floor, cozy brick house tucked into a corner street-I notice the porch lights are on. That's not unusual. What is unusual... is the fact that the front door is slightly ajar.
I frown.
"Wait here," I say to the driver as I step out.
I walk up the path slowly, heels clicking against stone. There's music coming from inside-loud, rhythmic, something sensual. The type of beat that curls into your skin and stays there.
"Marla?" I call lightly, knocking on the already open door. "Girl, you alive in there? I texted you like ten times."
Still nothing. No footsteps. Just the beat of the music... and faint laughter.
I step inside.
Her house smells like jasmine candles and caramel, familiar and warm, but tonight it carries something else... something heavy. I set my food bag on the table near the entry and push the door shut behind me with my foot.
The living room is empty.
But the laughter-soft, low, feminine-is floating down the hallway, teasing me. I chuckle.
"Ohh? Marla has company tonight?" I say under my breath with a grin, walking slowly down the hallway.
That would explain her not answering.
But then I stop.
There's a shoe in the hallway. A man's shoe. Black leather. Designer. Expensive.
My heart doesn't sink. Not yet. It sort of pauses... like it's waiting for confirmation of what it already suspects.
"Damn, Marla," I mutter, laughing softly. "You really ghosted me for some man-meat? Who is he? Is he hot?"
No answer. The music's louder now, and I catch the shadow of flickering lights under the bedroom door. The hallway's long, but the closer I get, the slower I move. Not out of fear. No. Something else.
A sound reaches my ears that stops me cold.
A man's voice.
Low.
Rough.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
His voice.
I freeze in place, still holding the jewelry bag, my fingers now trembling.
That couldn't be him. No. He wouldn't be-
Marla's voice rises, sultry and breathless.
"Let me give you what she can't."
I don't even breathe.
I stare at the bedroom door-slightly ajar-open just enough to peek in.
And I do.
My eyes land on a scene I'll never be able to erase from my memory.
Marla.
Straddling him.
Hands gripping his shoulders.
Her head thrown back.
And him-his back facing me, broad and unmistakably familiar. He laughs, dark and lazy, before flipping her over with one powerful motion, her giggle echoing off the walls.
I don't need to see his face.
I know that back.
I know that voice.
I know that lazy, confident laugh.
He groans. "Fuck, Marla... you feel too good."
Marla moans louder. "Alaric..."
And that was it.
My soul fractures.
The man I was supposed to marry.
My mate.
In my best friend's bed.
"Does your uncle know you've been with me?" she asked him while moaning and he scoffed, "Uncle Cassian isn't my father, he doesn't have to know my whereabouts. Plus, he just got back to the city again after years of being away, he is a huge catch for us, my love." Alaric responded and I felt my stomach twist.
~~
The hallway spins. The air leaves my lungs so fast I don't even realize I've stepped backward until my heel taps the wall behind me.
But I don't scream.
I don't barge in.
I don't throw the door open and ruin the moment the way they ruined me.
No.
I leave.
I walk out as quietly as I came.
Down the hallway.
Past the man's shoe.
Past the food I brought.
Back out into the cold, where the silence feels safer than their moans ever could.
Outside, I stare up at the moon-bright, full, indifferent.
I don't cry.
Not yet.
I just whisper to the night sky, voice shaking, "He was never mine."
My cab was still waiting for me and I went in, resting my head on the headrest as the tears streamed down my face.
Was that seriously Marla on Alaric?
How could he even do that? With my own best friend?
Why did he mention his uncle being a huge catch for him?
What exactly is going on?
Chapter 1 In my best friend bed
18/04/2025
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