Rejected by the Prince, Claimed by the Alpha King

Seraphina Beaumont POV:

I leaned against the cold stone of the corridor, the sound of cheers from the banquet hall a physical blow. Damian and his new bride, Clarissa, were accepting the court's blessings. Each wave of applause felt like a needle pricking my eardrums.

Clarissa wasn't content with taking Damian from me—she wanted to destroy me completely.

Before the ceremony began, she handed me a glass of wine, claiming she sought my blessing. The moment I caught the scent of that drink, I knew something was wrong. But I said nothing. I only pretended to drink it. She had no idea that the blade she handed me would be turned against herself.

From a hidden pocket in my gown, I pulled a small silver flask, intricately carved with my family's crest. My fingers trembled from excitement.

I uncorked the stopper.

A strange scent, a mix of moonpetal and bitter wormwood, escaped. It was a potent herbal concoction I had spent months brewing, using knowledge from the oldest texts in my family's library.

Its purpose wasn't arousal. It was designed to amplify emotion and sensory input, to make the drinker appear utterly vulnerable, a state of distress so profound it could deceive even the most powerful Alpha.

An image of Damian's handsome, treacherous face flashed in my mind. He had sworn I was his only moonlight, yet he cast me aside for the support of the Montgomery family without a second thought.

I brought the flask to my lips and drank the deep purple liquid in one go.

The spicy, herbal taste burned my throat. A wave of heat shot through my limbs, and my vision began to blur at the edges. This was it.

Stumbling, I braced myself against the wall and moved deeper into the corridor. My destination was the royal family's private wing, where my true target was waiting: Alpha King Aldric.

I deliberately tore at the hem of my dress, pulling it into disarray. I loosened my silver hair, letting strands cling to my cheeks, which were already flushed from the potion.

My inner wolf, the white wolf of my bloodline, howled in protest at this self-inflicted weakness. I crushed its dissent with the force of my will. To appear as a helpless Omega was the first step of my plan.

Finally, I reached a massive oak door carved with the lion and wolf of the Carlisle royal crest. I knew the King was inside.

I didn't knock.

Instead, I threw my body against the door with all the feigned weakness I could muster. The dull thud was followed by the sound of my body sliding to the floor.

Silence.

The lack of response from within made my heart skip a beat. This was an unexpected obstacle.

Gritting my teeth, I raised a hand and slapped it weakly against the wood, letting out a soft whimper that was a perfect blend of pain and confusion.

The door clicked open.

A pair of black, military-style boots entered my blurry field of vision.

My eyes traveled up the long, powerful legs to the towering figure that now loomed over me, casting me in shadow.

He was Alpha King Aldric Carlisle, a living legend, the ruler of our kingdom with Lycan blood in his veins.

I forced my potion-widened eyes to focus, my violet pupils reflecting his face. His eyes were the color of ice-gray steel, and just as cold.

"Who are you?" he asked. His voice was a low, chilling rumble, like ice cracking over a deep lake.

I opened my mouth, but only a broken gasp escaped. My body began to tremble, a perfect performance of a weak Omega overwhelmed by a dominant Alpha's presence.

His scent, a powerful and mix of cedar and obsidian, flooded my senses, making my feigned reaction feel terrifyingly real.

I tried to scramble to my feet, but my legs felt like water. I collapsed back onto the cold floor, tears welling in my eyes.

A flicker of annoyance crossed Aldric's brow. He was already losing patience with this intrusion.

Just as I thought he would call the guards to drag me away, I took my final chance. I reached out a trembling hand and grasped the hem of his trousers.

"Help... me..." I forced out the words, my voice raspy and desperate.

His gaze sharpened, boring into me as if trying to see my soul. He crouched down, his powerful Alpha pheromones washing over me like a tidal wave.

He didn't help me up.

Instead, he grabbed my arm, his grip rough and devoid of pity, and hauled me to my feet.

My body slammed against his chest. It was like hitting a wall of solid muscle, and the impact made my head spin.

He bent his head, his cold nose almost touching the side of my neck, the most vulnerable spot for a wolf. He was scenting me.

I could feel the exact moment his body went rigid. He must have smelled it—the scent I had created. The pure lily of my natural scent, now mixed with the overwhelming stench of an Omega's terror, all thanks to the herbs.

I closed my eyes, a single tear finally escaping and tracing a path down my cheek. I let my body go limp in his arms, giving up the "fight."

The instant I collapsed, his arm tightened around me, a purely instinctual move to keep me from falling. That subconscious, protective gesture told me everything.

My first step was a success.

He swept me up into his arms, his stride long and powerful as he carried me back into the room. The door slammed shut behind us, kicked closed by his heel.

I was not placed gently on a bed. I was tossed onto the plush rug in the center of the room.

He stood over me, his expression unreadable as he studied me like a hunter examining its captured prey.

I knew I was getting closer to victory, but my face was still a mask of carefully crafted fear.

He moved closer, his shadow swallowing me whole. "Tell me," his voice was laced with unquestionable authority, "who sent you?"