My Fake Rogue Mate Is The Alpha King

Kira POV:

My hands twisted the fabric of my white dress, the cheap cotton already starting to wrinkle. The sun was warm on my face, but a chill crept up my spine.

I stood before the grand entrance of the Silverwood City Pack Registration Hall, a place that held the promise of my entire future.

I imagined walking out of those doors, my hand linked with Mark's, the temporary binding mark a warm promise on my neck.

Then I saw his car pull up down the street.

My heart hammered against my ribs. I lifted a hand, a smile already forming on my lips.

The car door opened, but he didn't get out. He just sat there for a long, agonizing minute.

My smile faltered.

When he finally walked towards me, his expression was not the joy I had dreamed of for five years. It was a cold, distant resolve. My stomach plummeted.

He stopped a foot away from me, his eyes avoiding mine. "Kira, we need to talk."

A few other wolves waiting to register cast curious glances our way. A hot flush of embarrassment crawled up my neck.

"Talk about what? Mark, we're scheduled for..." My voice trembled. A terrible feeling, cold and sharp, seized me.

"I can't do this," he cut me off. His voice wasn't loud, but it was clear enough for everyone nearby to hear. "I can't take on your family."

The words were like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. "My family?" I repeated, my voice barely a whisper. I thought of my grandfather, his medical bills a mountain we could never seem to climb, and my little brother, Zane.

"Yes," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "The endless pit of medical bills for your grandfather. Your brother who needs raising. And most importantly, Kira..."

He paused, his gaze finally meeting mine, filled with a cruel kind of pity. "You're a wolfless. I need a real she-wolf for a mate, not some half-breed..."

He didn't finish the sentence, but the word "mutt" echoed in the sudden silence, followed by the stifled snickers of the onlookers. The sound was like a physical blow, and my cheeks burned as if I'd been slapped.

I looked at the man I had loved since I was a teenager. His face was suddenly ugly, foreign. The love I held for him curdled into cold, humiliating hatred.

He turned and walked away without a backward glance, leaving me there like a piece of trash on the pristine steps.

My strength evaporated. Tears I refused to shed in front of him now streamed down my face. My one goal—to give my grandfather the peace of mind of seeing me settled before he passed—had just shattered.

Just as I was about to break completely, a commotion erupted on the other side of the plaza. A man in an expensive suit was being swarmed by reporters. He was supposed to be marrying Penelope Sinclair, a high-society she-wolf.

I heard a reporter's sharp question. "Mr. Sterling, Miss Sinclair just announced on social media that the bonding is off! She said she'd never marry a control freak. Do you have a comment?"

The man, Sterling, was tall, with short, dark hair and a face that looked like it was carved from ice. He said nothing, his presence alone a wall of cold fury.

I saw it then, in the depths of his dark blue eyes. The same cold, abandoned rage that was burning in my own chest. We were two strangers, rejected by our mates in the same place, on the same day.

A wild, desperate idea sparked in my mind.

I needed a mate. A mate to give my grandfather peace. I needed money. A lot of money for his treatments.

I wiped my tears, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm. My legs felt like lead as I forced myself to walk toward him.

The reporters were backing away from his chilling aura. He was turning to leave.

"Wait!"

I threw all my courage into that one word, stepping directly in his path.

He looked down at me. Those deep blue eyes held no warmth, just the detached curiosity one might give a strange insect. I almost flinched under his gaze, but there was a cliff behind me. I had no retreat.

"You were rejected, too, weren't you?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

He didn't answer, but one of his eyebrows arched slightly.

"I need a mate," I said, the words rushing out. "A temporary one. And you need a mate to save face and get these reporters off your back."

I took a breath, locking my eyes with his.

"Marry me."

The air froze. The ice on his face seemed to crack, just for a second. For the first time, a real emotion flickered in his eyes: pure, unadulterated shock, and something else... interest.

He studied me, his gaze sharp and analytical, stripping me bare. I expected him to laugh, to push me aside.

Instead, his lips parted.

"Why?"

The single word jolted me back to reality. "I need money," I confessed, my voice raw with honesty. "For my grandfather's medical bills. I'll play whatever part you need me to play. I just need to be paid."

A strange curve touched his lips. It wasn't a sneer. It was something more calculating.

"A marriage of convenience," he murmured, tasting the words. "Interesting."

He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur only I could hear. "How much do you need?"