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I was an Omega Healer, standing at the altar, ready to finally marry my fiancé, Kirt. Instead of completing the mating ceremony, he shoved me hard onto the cold marble floor in front of the entire Pack. "Are you really that desperate to become my mate? What a pathetic Omega," he sneered. My best friend Janice rushed over in fake sympathy, wearing my mother's stolen obsidian pendant proudly on her collarbone. In my past life, I endured this public humiliation, desperately hoping my blind devotion would eventually win his heart. But I was completely wrong. They only kept me around to steal my family's sacred Healer resources. Once they got what they wanted, Kirt and Janice locked me in a burning building. They stood outside with their arms around each other, laughing over the ashes of my grandfather's scrolls as the roaring flames consumed me. My family's legacy was stolen, and I died in sheer agony, betrayed by the two people I trusted most. As the fire melted my skin, I couldn't understand why my absolute loyalty was met with such vicious cruelty. Why did the Pack just stand by and watch me burn? Opening my eyes again, the Moon Goddess had thrown me back to the exact moment Kirt shoved me at the altar. This time, I didn't cry or beg. I grabbed a heavy oak stool, smashed it directly into my fiancé's skull, and turned my sights to the supreme Alpha of the Pack.
Contents
My Contractual Luna: Curing The Alpha's Decay Chapter 1
KIERA'S POV
The impact drove every ounce of air from my lungs.
My spine struck the cold flagstone of the Ancestral Sanctuary with a sickening crack, sending blinding white lightning through my nervous system. Around the raised dais, hundreds of gathered pack members inhaled sharply-a collective, suffocating gasp that rippled through the sacred hall.
I blinked, clearing the static from my eyes. Standing over me was Kirt Hodge, heir to the southern territory and the man my father had bound me to in a political betrothal. The air around him was rank, reeking of sour, unearned dominance and the rancid tang of an insecure predator.
"Are you truly this pathetic, Kiera?" Kirt sneered down at me, curling his upper lip to bare yellowed canines. "You couldn't even withstand a simple binding bow. What a useless, broken Omega."
Deep beneath the cage of my ribs, something that had lay dead and frozen for an eternity stirred. The phantom chains of my inner she-wolf shattered into ash. Tear his throat out, her voice rose from the dark, ancient and vicious. He carries no claim to our blood!
I stared up at him. Bile rose in my throat, hot and bitter. Kirt's sneering face blurred, bleeding into the horrifying memory of my past life: the roar of crimson flames, the suffocating stench of burning dried aconite and sage, and Kirt laughing with his arm clamped around my closest friend, Janice, while my grandfather's sacred Healer scrolls burned to cinders.
'The Weeks line ends today,' he had whispered into my dying ear. 'Your ancestral power belongs to the Hodge pack now.'
That fire had been the last thing I felt.
Until now.
I sucked in a ragged breath. The Goddess hadn't sent me to the underworld. She had hurled my soul back into my nineteen-year-old body, straight onto the sacrificial marble of our Betrothal Ceremony.
The ache in my bruised back was instantly incinerated by a wave of pure, frozen wrath. I dug my fingernails into my palms until the skin split, using the sharp copper scent of my own blood to tether my mind to the present.
I scanned the dais. The faces of the high-ranking pack wolves were carved from contempt and cruel amusement. To them, I was merely the orphaned daughter of a fallen Healer clan, an Omega with diluted bloodline value, ready to be swallowed whole by the ambitious Hodge family.
Then, my eyes drifted upward.
Perched on the high obsidian balcony overlooking the sanctum, draped in shadows, sat Alpha Alcide Barnes. The supreme sovereign of the Silverthorne territory. He sat with his elbows braced on the stone armrests of his throne, looking down on his nephew's betrothal with lethal, glacial detachment.
Our gazes collided across the cavernous expanse.
The moment those ice-blue eyes met mine, a violent tremor ripped through the marrow of my bones. My inner wolf, who had whimpered in fear throughout my previous life, snapped her head up. Her fur bristled, not in terror of his crushing aura, but in absolute, magnetic resonance.
Up on the balcony, Alcide's bored posture stiffened by a fraction of an inch. His broad shoulders squared against the dark fabric of his tunic, his pupils dilating until the ice vanished into predatory obsidian. He had felt the shockwave too.
"Oh, Goddess, Kiera! Are you hurt?"
A shrill voice shattered the silent current. Janice Morgan rushed to my side, her eyes welling with expertly summoned tears as she knelt beside me. "Kirt, how could you push her? She's delicate!"
She reached out, extending her manicured hands to help me up. But before her fingers could graze my skin, the breeze carried her scent to my flared nostrils-underneath the heavy mask of expensive tuberose perfume was the sour, bitter stench of betrayal and raw greed.
I twisted my shoulder, letting her grasp empty air.
Kirt immediately stepped between us, shielding Janice behind his broad frame as if I were the rabid beast. "Cease this insolence, Kiera," he growled, the vibration thrumming in his chest. "Stand on your feet and complete the blood-pledge. You are embarrassing the Hodge name before the Alpha."
My eyes didn't look at his face. They dropped to Janice's collarbone.
Peeking out from the lace of her bodice was a smooth, tear-shaped obsidian pendant. The Weeks Hearth-Stone. My mother's dying warding relic. In my first life, I had spent weeks weeping over its mysterious disappearance, only to see Janice proudly flaunting it as a gift from Kirt after our vows.
A terrifying, razor-sharp calm settled over my soul.
"Did you hear me?" Kirt barked, stepping closer until his shadow smothered me. "I am counting to three. If you do not bare your wrist for the silver blade, I will have the guards hold you down."
"Please, Kiera," Janice pleaded, her fingers clutching Kirt's sleeve, playing the gentle mediator. "The entire Pack is waiting. Don't make this ugly."
I planted my bleeding palms flat against the cold stone. Slowly, deliberately, I rose.
Every trace of the fragile, trembling girl they had spent years manipulating was gone. When I lifted my chin and locked my eyes onto Kirt, there was no adoration. No fear. Nothing but the dead, predatory silence of an executioner.
Kirt involuntarily stepped back half a pace, his instincts recoiling from something ancient and lethal in my stance that his dull mind could not comprehend.
From the first row of Elders, an old wolf murmured, "The girl's scent... it has shifted."
I smoothed down the hem of my ceremonial white gown. I didn't look at Kirt again. I turned my eyes fully onto Janice, and the corners of my lips curved into a cold, merciless sneer.
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