Prologue
347 Words
She needed a husband.
Any man. Any mark. Any escape.
Homeless, powerless, and with nothing left but a desperate plea to the Moon Goddess, I was running out of time. If I didn’t find a mate by dawn, my fate was sealed—death or worse. I was going to be given as a toy to Sir Joffery, the sixty-year-old pack’s ruthless army general, and all his men, to do with me what they pleased. They were cruel and heartless bastards. liars. cheats. monsters who had forced countless she-wolves, young and old. And I was going to be given to him as a gift, for fighting and winning the war, to be used as he pleased.
He had grinned when I had been presented to him as an item. And licked his lips. He wasn't going to mark me or marry her. "Where's the fun in that?" He had said lewdly. "I will take you against the barracks walls." He had told me, whispering the words into my ear so that no one else could hear. "While you scream my name."
"My men would enjoy that show. Oh, yes, they would enjoy it very much." He had laughed. "Until they get their own chance."
And I had known that my end was near if I didn't find a mate quickly.
Then fate answered.
A rogue. Broken, bloodied, and barely breathing. His matted hair and hollow eyes screamed weakness. But I didn’t need love—just his mark.
Until the rogue began to heal.
With each passing day, he grew stronger. Larger. Darker. Predatory sensual hunger started to burn in his once lifeless gaze, which sent chills down my spine. The man who was supposed to be my shield became my tormentor, demanding what was his: my submission, my touch, my wedding night.
But when the Alpha demands an heir, secrets unravel.
Because her rogue isn’t just any wolf. And he didn’t come to save her.
He came to claim her.
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