A QUEEN IN THE ENEMY’S BED: TAMING THE LYCAN BEAST

Luna Mirielle lay in the hospital bed, and though no one said it out loud, she knew she was dying. Somewhere deep inside, her wolf fought restlessly, trapped in a body that refused to fight back. At twenty-six, she had once been a storm. Now, she could barely breathe. The doctors called it incurable; the healers had long stopped pretending they had answers. Her husband, Alpha Thor, stood by the window, his broad shoulders blocking the gray light. They had been married for seven years—joined a year after she was crowned Luna, because a she-wolf could not lead without a mate. He spoke to Dr. Bianca, her best friend, in a rough voice. “Pull that plug.” Bianca gasped. “Alpha, no,” she cried. “We have not exhausted every option. There is still—” “Hope?” Thor spat. “Mirielle’s suffering too much. Look at her. All bones and sunken eyes.” His breath hitched. “She was a strong Luna. I know it’s what she would want. I won’t watch this anymore.” Mirielle kept her eyes shut. Her heart thudded weakly, protesting her body’s betrayal. This sickness had stolen her strength, but she still had to fight. “Please, Alpha,” Bianca begged. “Give me three days to come up with something.” “You’ve said that for weeks. She’s not coming back. Keeping her alive like this is just cruel.” “We cannot give up on her. I cannot pull the plug on my Luna and best friend!” “Do not twist this, Bianca,” Thor snapped. “Then let me help her!” Bianca shot back. “Give me seventy-two hours. If I fail, you make your decision. But give her a chance.” “Twenty-four hours only.” “Thor, please—” “Twenty-four.” His voice was final. “If there’s no improvement by then… we let her go.” Through the fog of medication, Mirielle could feel Bianca’s pain. Mirielle did not hate Thor. She just did not understand him. Why the rush? She was the one trapped in this body, not him. As Bianca’s footsteps faded, the room grew heavier. Mirielle lay there, waiting for Thor to hold her and beg her to fight. But the only sound was the scrape of drawers and the impatient clatter of someone searching. She kept her eyes closed, but every nerve was alert. “Where the f**k is it?” he muttered. Mirielle’s stomach turned cold. Was he searching for the folder? The one that held her lands, accounts, and assets—everything her parents had handed down to her? Everything she was already planning to leave to him? The folder was under the mattress, inches from her hip. He would have to reach across her to find it. Part of her wanted to ask. But she couldn't speak. Then his phone buzzed. He hesitated before answering, his voice suddenly tender. “Hey, honey.” He turned a little toward the corner, back to her. A woman’s voice floated through the speaker. “Is it done yet?” Thor sighed. “Not yet. She’s still holding on.” “Still?” The woman’s tone had a hint of impatience beneath her softness. “You said she wouldn’t make it through the week.” Mirielle’s chest tightened. She knew that voice. Alice—one of the divorced she-wolves she had taken into her home. “She’s too damn stubborn. But don’t worry. She’s out cold.” The woman’s sigh crackled through the phone. “I don’t like waiting, Thor.” “I know. We’ll get there. Stay calm. Stress isn’t good for the baby.” Mirielle’s heart clenched. Baby. Alice was carrying Thor’s child. Alice's innocent-looking face whispered through Mirielle’s memory. The pain in her voice when she thanked her for helping her start over after an abusive marriage. “I’m just tired of hiding. I want you,” Alice whined to Thor. “You have me,” he promised. “I’ll make sure this is over tonight.” Mirielle’s breath slipped out—something between a gasp and a whimper. Thor froze. “Hold on,” he muttered into the phone. Alice’s voice barely made it through before the line went dead. She forced her eyes shut as his finger jabbed her arm, hard enough to sting through the haze. “Mirielle?” he whispered. She did not move. He breathed hard against her face. Then she heard him whisper, almost to himself, “Just die already.” He turned away. Mirielle's trembling hand found the emergency button beside her. She pressed it. The beeping pierced the walls. Mirielle forced her eyes open. Thor stood over the ventilator, his hand hovering near the plug like a thief. The door flew open, and Dr. Bianca burst in. “Alpha Thor! What the hell are you doing?” He jerked back. “Nothing! I was just checking the power line; it looked loose.” “Loose?” Bianca shrieked. “You think I’m blind? You were going to pull it out!” “Don’t be dramatic,” he snapped. “I was making sure everything was stable.” Bianca moved to Mirielle’s side, eyes darting between the machines and her. Fury took over. “She’s hanging by a thread, Thor! You don’t get to play God because you’re tired of waiting!” Mirielle swallowed hard, forcing air through her throat. “He… h-he… did this,” she rasped, her voice tearing. “C-cheated. On me.” Bianca’s eyes widened. “Please tell me she’s wrong.” Thor’s shock morphed into wild laughter. “She’s delirious. She’s barely conscious, and you’re out of line, Bianca.” “You f*****g piece of—” Thor’s eyes darkened. “Watch your tone, bitch.” His voice deepened, that Alpha command seeping through the air like poison. “You don’t talk to me like that in my pack.” “This is my patient,” she hissed. “You lost the right to command me the second you tried to kill her.” The door banged open again. Two guards stormed in, their hesitation obvious when they saw who stood there. “Alpha?” one asked carefully. “Escort her out,” Thor ordered, pointing at Bianca. “She’s unfit to treat my wife.” Bianca stepped in front of Mirielle, chin lifted. “Touch me,” she warned, “and I’ll make sure the Council hears how you tried to murder your Luna—and throw a doctor out of her father’s hospital.” The guards froze. “Get him out!” Bianca screamed. “He’s trying to kill her!” Thor sneered. He jabbed a finger toward her. “You’ll regret this.” His eyes locked with hers for one long second before he walked out, the door slamming behind him. Bianca’s knees hit the floor beside her. Her sobs came hard and messy. She grabbed Mirielle’s hand, holding it against her chest. “Oh, Mirielle… my friend,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I’m so sorry. I should have seen it; I should have stopped him.” Her tears dripped onto Mirielle’s skin, warm against the chill crawling through her veins. “Bastard,” she growled. “That f*****g bastard. He will pay for this, Mirielle. I swear on my blood, he will pay. Even if I must cut myself open and write his sins with it, I’ll make the world see what he did to you.” Her voice trembled. “He thinks he can walk out of here, go play happy family with his w***e while you lie here dying? No. Not while I’m breathing.” Tears slid down Mirielle’s temples; her voice was barely a ghost. “It’s over. I…I can feel it.” “Don’t you say that.” She cupped Mirielle’s face with trembling hands, her thumbs brushing away the tears that kept coming. “You don’t get to give up.” Her tone shifted suddenly. “There is hope,” she murmured, almost to herself at first. Then louder, steadier: “There’s someone who can help.” Her gaze flicked away before she forced the name out. “Omarion. Lycan King of the South.” Mirielle’s blood ran cold. Omarion. The name was not just a memory; it was a wound that would never heal. Her fingers twitched weakly in Bianca’s. “I’d r… rather die.” “Mirielle. He broke you. He broke us. But he’s the only one who can fix what’s happening inside you. Your sickness isn't. And he’s the only bastard alive who can heal it.” Her eyes glistened. “Let him save you, and when you’re strong again… we will burn them both. Thor and Omarion. Every man who ever thought your pain was convenient.”