I loved Lucian for years and gave up everything to save his life, but all I got in return was disgust in his eyes. In my past life, I was forced to become his mate, but in the end, I died under the claws of the feral wolves he sent after me, and he even snapped my brother Marcus's neck with his own teeth.

The night I was reborn, I made a different choice. I let my rival Ayara have what she wanted. I married the brutal Prince Draven in her place, the one rumors said would "kill his bride," and she got to run off and save Lucian.

But when the wedding car door opened, the person who stepped out was the gentle boy I'd met when I was five years old.

"Take a closer look, sweetheart. Am I really as terrifying as the rumors say?" His amber eyes were full of warmth and affection.

Turns out, he'd staged twelve fake weddings just waiting for me to grow up.

By the time Lucian got on his knees and begged me to come back, it was already too late; I was Draven's Luna now.

My brother Marcus's best friend, Lucian Rothwell, was injected with a forced heat inducer during a border mission.

I loved him for years. I'd do anything to save him—even if it meant becoming his remedy.

The next morning, his childhood sweetheart, Araya Frostclaw, burst into the room, tears streaming down her face.

"Lucian, I'm doomed! The royal lottery selected me to be the Alpha Heir's bride!"

"The Alpha Heir, Draven Montclair—he's a monster! He kills his brides on their wedding night! All twelve women who tried to bond with him died. They say his bloodline is too powerful, that he loses control during the marking and destroys his mate! I don't want to die. Please, marry me instead."

But Lucian had already marked me. The Rothwell family law was absolute: one Alpha, one mate. He could only marry me.

On our bonding ceremony day, Araya hanged herself in the main hall wearing a white dress.

Lucian's face went pale, but he kept his expression cold and went through with the permanent marking anyway, because I was pregnant.

Those months carrying his child were the darkest of my life.

The morning sickness in my first trimester was brutal, like my body was rejecting this baby and everything between Lucian and me. I threw up until there was nothing left in my stomach, until the acid burned my throat raw, until my legs gave out and I couldn't stand anymore. I'd end up on my knees by the toilet, dry heaving with nothing left to give.

The estate's best doctors came to see me and prescribed every kind of IV nutrient drip and anti-nausea medication money could buy. But all that expensive medical care couldn't fix a broken heart.

Lucian never came to see me during the pregnancy. He locked me away in the most remote wing of the manor, like I was some shameful secret he needed to hide.

The day I went into labor, I finally understood what it meant to wish for death.

The contractions hit me in waves, each one worse than the last, and every single one felt like it was tearing me apart. But my body was too weak—nine months of mental torture and carrying an unwanted child had pushed me past my limits.

"She's losing too much blood!" A nurse's panicked voice cut through the chaos. "Get the crash cart ready! Someone call the blood bank now!"

The doctor's orders came rapid-fire, and the delivery room descended into chaos.

My consciousness began to slip away, like a thread being pulled loose, drifting into nothingness. The voices around me grew distant and muffled, fading into a static blur.

And even as I lost consciousness for the last time, Lucian never showed up.

*****

I jolted awake and found myself in Lucian's room.

Lucian lay on the bed, his body burning up. The sickly sweet scent of forced heat filled the entire room, making my head spin.

I was back, back to the day he'd been poisoned.

The timeline hit me like a freight train—I'd just walked into Lucian's room, ready to help him through the worst of it. Ready to make the mistake that would ruin everything.

No. Not this time.

I bolted from the room and tracked down Ayara. "You were chosen to marry Draven, weren't you?" I demanded.

She froze, tears still wet on her cheeks. "How did you know?"

"Doesn't matter," I said, my heart pounding. "You become Lucian's cure, and I'll take your place as Draven's mate."

Ayara watched me with sharp, suspicious eyes. "Eve, since when are you this generous? Is that really Lucian in there? Or did you just drug some random werewolves and now you're trying to trick me into going in so he'll mark me? Then you'd have Lucian all to yourself, wouldn't you?"

I couldn't blame her for not trusting me. Everyone in the pack knew I'd been in love with Lucian for years, and I'd turned down several strong Alphas who'd tried to court me because of him.

Everyone also knew that Lucian, the commander of the Border Guard, took his responsibilities seriously, and the Rothwell family had an ironclad rule—one wolf, one mate for life. Right now was the perfect chance to marry him and become his mate, so why would I give that up?

But in my past life, even after I got what I wanted and he marked me, I ended up dying a horrible death.

That was when I'd learned the truth that Lucian had been in love with Ayara, his childhood sweetheart, all along.

Now that fate had given me a second chance, I'd rather die quickly at Draven's marking ceremony than go through the agony of being torn apart by a dozen feral wolves again.

"Ms. Frostclaw, you've got it all wrong," I said carefully. "Lucian and Marcus are best friend, so I've always seen Lucian as family. You're the one who grew up with him, the one he actually loves. I just can't stand to see him separated from the person he cares about. If you don't take this chance now, do you really want to marry Draven and walk straight to your death?"

Before Ayara could respond, the man inside the room groaned, his voice raw and desperate, barely recognizable. "Eve, you're out there, aren't you? Please come in. I'm begging you..."

It was the sound of an Alpha in heat, pushed to the breaking point and on the verge of losing control completely.

Ayara's face went pale. She clearly recognized Lucian's voice. She didn't hesitate anymore and shoved the formal notice from the Royal Council into my arms. "At least you know your place," she sneered. "But you've been clinging to Lucian for years, and now you suddenly want to let go? How do I know you're not planning something?"

She stepped closer, and her voice dropped to a vicious whisper. "Unless you stay out here and guard the door, I'm pushing you in there right now. And trust me, Lucian only has room for one person in his heart—me. If you try to crawl into his bed while he's out of his mind with rut, he'll never forgive you once it's over."

I knew what she was really doing. She wanted to humiliate me. Werewolves had sharp hearing, and she wanted me to stand outside that door and listen to everything—every sound, every moment—until whatever foolish hope I had left for Lucian was utterly destroyed.

But I didn't dare fight back. I couldn't risk it. I couldn't bear to repeat the nightmare of my past life.

When I nodded, Ayara let out a cold laugh and pushed the door open.

"Ayara?" Lucian's voice was startled, but within seconds, his rut-addled instincts overpowered everything else. He pulled her down beneath him with desperate urgency, and his eyes blazed with unmistakable desire and joy.

In my past life, when he looked at me, all I ever saw was disgust and resentment—the look of a man forced into something he hated just to survive.

I quietly closed the door.

But the sounds still found me. The breathless gasps and low murmurs slipped through the wooden barrier and burrowed into my ears. And then there were the scents—Lucian's pheromones tangling with Ayara's, seeping through the cracks in the door like flaming arrows that burned through my chest and tore at everything inside me.

My wolf was howling. She was screaming in anguish because the Alpha I'd loved for so many years was claiming someone else.

I stood there for two hours before the room finally went quiet. The door swung open, and Lucian appeared, wearing only a black t-shirt, his body still radiating heat and the chaotic mix of post-sex pheromones. His eyes widened when he saw me. "Eve? What are you doing out here?"

He seemed to remember something and kicked me away, his voice sharp with anger. "Are you really this shameless? You know damn well I don't want you, but you still hide outside the door eavesdropping like some creep. What, are you trying to feed your sick fantasies? Do you have any self-respect left?"

His kick sent me sprawling to the ground, and my palms scraped against the floor.

I'd played the desperate, lovesick fool for so long that this was precisely what he'd expect from me. Of course, he'd think this.

I opened my mouth to explain, but he cut me off coldly. "Don't think I'll suddenly fall for you just because you played nice and brought Ayara here to help me through my rut. I've already temporarily marked her, which means I'll be taking her as my mate soon enough. The Rothwell family has never marked a second partner—not once in our entire bloodline. Stop fooling yourself."

I swallowed down the bitter ache in my chest and nodded. "I know. It won't happen again."

I turned to leave, but voices drifted over from down the hall where several servants were working and gossiping.

"The Royal Pack already sent out the results for Prince Draven's mate selection to all the unmated she-wolves. I heard those high-born ladies were shaking when they opened their letters, and thank the Moon Goddess none of them matched."

"Whoever got matched is cursed. They say Prince Draven has some horrible hereditary disease and that his mark kills his brides. All twelve of his previous consorts are dead, and the rumors say they died gruesome deaths—their bodies came back home in pieces, brains splattered everywhere."

"Being the Alpha Heir's Luna sounds prestigious, but really you're just walking to your death. This thirteenth bride probably won't even survive the marking ceremony before she becomes a corpse."

Lucian's brow furrowed, and he suddenly called out to me. "Eve, did you receive a letter? Let me see it."

I'd gotten the letter yesterday, and someone had hand-delivered the formal documents too—tucked inside an elegant black envelope that I'd stashed in my jewelry box in the bedroom.

There was no way I was the one who'd been chosen.

My eyes dropped to the letter in my hand, the one Ayara had just shoved at me. I already knew what was inside without opening it.

"What difference does it make if I read it or not?"

Lucian's brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to say something, but Ayara cut him off. She was wrapped in a silk sheet with one bare shoulder exposed, and her voice came out soft and cloying. "Lucian, why are you still talking to her? I'm freezing." The deliberate sweetness in her tone made my stomach turn.

He hurried back inside to tuck the blanket around her, his voice going gentle. "You just went through a lot. Stay in bed and rest. I'll have them crank the heat up all the way and bring hot water so I can clean you up myself."

"Okay." Ayara snuggled into his chest, clearly satisfied, but then her tone shifted. "We just... you know... and she heard everything. If Eve goes around telling people, my reputation will be ruined."

"Don't worry," Lucian interrupted her, and his voice carried an edge of absolute certainty. "I marked you, so I'm taking responsibility. In five days we'll hold the official marking ceremony. I won't let anyone disrespect you."

Then he turned to look at me, and those eyes that used to make my heart race were nothing but cold now. "I was wrong about you. If you'd been the one chosen, you probably would've crawled into my bed the second you got the news, crying and begging me to mark you. You're Marcus's sister and you're stooping to trashy tactics like eavesdropping. Marcus isn't here, but I'm his best friend, so I have every right to discipline you on his behalf."

He paused, and his voice got even icier. "Go to your room and stand on the balcony for two hours. Think about what you did. Don't come inside and don't turn on the heat."

Lucian had come south to clear out the rogue wolves near the border, and Marcus was worried he might run into trouble, so he'd rushed down from the capital to help.

For convenience, Marcus and I were both staying at Lucian's estate.

Even though we were in the south, the damp cold of deep winter at night was brutal. Yesterday we'd even gotten a rare heavy snowfall, and now the entire estate was buried under thick white drifts.

I stood on the balcony, and the bitter wind cut into my skin like knives. My constitution had always been weaker than most—I got cold more easily than other wolves—and on top of that, I had chronic cold sensitivity that made everything worse.

Two hours later, my lips had turned blue-purple, and my legs were so numb I could barely feel them. I had to lean against the railing just to stay upright.

Peach, the maid I'd brought with me, tried to go to the kitchen to get me some hot water, but someone sent her back with a mocking rebuke that made my blood boil.

"The Commander said Ms. Frostclaw has a delicate constitution and can't handle the cold, so all the heating in the estate has to go to her quarters first. She's going to be our future Commander's mate, after all!"

"As for your mistress? She's the General's sister—she's strong as an ox. What's a few hours in the cold to her?"

Peach came back empty-handed, looking miserable and hurt.

I leaned against the cold railing, and a memory hit me hard, whether I wanted it or not.

It was the first time Lucian led troops north to fight off the rogue packs invading our territory. Winter, just like now. Marcus had taken me to the front lines to show support.

Lucian came back victorious but covered in wounds. He ran a fever that wouldn't break, and even our best pack healers couldn't do anything—silver wounds don't heal like normal injuries. They burn from the inside out.

I remember that freezing night.

I snuck out to the snow-covered fields outside the military camp and let my body temperature drop dangerously low. Cold skin could help bring down a werewolf's fever—it was risky, but it worked.

Later, I slipped into his tent and pressed my ice-cold body against his burning skin.

All night long.

Lucian's fever broke, but I ended up with severe cold sensitivity that persisted. Omegas already run cold, but after that night, my body couldn't regulate temperature anymore. Every winter since then, I've gotten sick.

When Lucian found out what I'd done, he didn't say thank you.

However, I recall him arranging for ten trucks of the finest heating equipment from the northern territories, including a custom climate control system designed specifically for wolves with temperature regulation issues.

He'd told me then, "The north is brutal, but as long as I'm breathing, Eve will never be cold again."

I gripped the envelope so hard my nails nearly tore through the paper.

That gentle promise was like winter snow—soft and beautiful when it fell, but it melted away fast and left nothing behind.