Crimson cursed: The Alpha’s Mate

Selene POV

The sun woke me, its rays creeping through the edges of the window and striking the clock on the wall. Seven. Too late.

I scrambled out of my old wooden bed, body light with panic but mind weighed down by the familiar storm of fears. I wiped myself quickly with a rag, pulled on my uniform, and tucked my red hair beneath a cloth covering—as I had done every single day since childhood.

I can’t remember who first told me to hide it, only that the command came with finality. don’t let anyone see. From the moment a strand of red glimmered in my shadow, it was declared a curse. A warning. Something dangerous to the eyes of others.

As if the hair weren’t enough, the mark on my shoulder set me further apart—a thin, jagged red line burned into my skin since birth. A sign of sin, they said. A fate already bargained to the gods. To me, it was neither punishment nor blessing, only a cruel mystery I could not solve. A reminder that I did not belong.

The kitchen bell rang, snapping me from thought. Food. My feet flew over the creaking steps as I hurried went there, but by the time I reached the dining hall the servants were nearly finished.

Leonora, head of the palace staff and ever eager to remind me of my place, blocked the doorway. Her shadow cut across me like a blade.

“Oh, oh! Late again!” she barked, her hand darting out to pinch my ear before shoving me forward. “Do you think meals wait for you, little princess?” Her voice dripped mockery, sharp and cruel.

“I—I’m sorry,” I whispered, bowing my head. The words fell from me like ashes.

“Move!” she snapped, her glare heavy enough to burn.

I slipped past her and grabbed what I could, shoving food into my mouth without tasting it. Each bite was less about hunger and more about survival; Leonora’s rules were merciless—miss a meal, and you went without. Hunger, I had learned, gnawed harder than her insults ever could.

When I was done, she thrust a rag and bucket into my arms and ordered me to clean the marble stairway. Punishment for tardiness.

I knelt on the cool stone, scrubbing as the sun’s heat pressed through my clothes. I tried not to notice the eyes of those passing, tried not to feel the weight of their disdain.

The great door creaked open. Princess Aliya descended with two escorts, their silken laughter spilling into the hall. I scrambled aside, lowering my head, bucket clutched tight.

“Damn cursed girl,” Aliya muttered, loud enough to slice through the air. The words cut deeper than any whip.

I bit back tears and bent to my work, but her cruelty wasn’t finished. With a flick of her wrist, she seized the bucket and upended it over me. Cold water drenched my uniform, clinging heavy to my skin.

“Step aside!” she sneered, slapping me with a rag before striding past, her escorts’ laughter echoing down the corridor.

I didn’t fight back. I never did. Their words and jeers had become so constant that numbness was my only shield. Yet still, in the quiet ache of my chest, the hurt settled like stone.

“Selene!”

I looked up to find Luke, breathless and anxious, rushing toward me. He was the only one here who never treated me like filth.

“Are you all right?” His voice trembled with worry. “I’m sorry—I came too late. I should’ve protected you.”

I forced a smile. “Don’t worry. It’s only water.” My tone was light, but my hands shook.

“Even so, I can’t stand seeing them treat you like this,” he said firmly, shoulders squared, as if ready to challenge the entire palace for my sake.

“Thank you, Luke. Truly.” I reached out, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “But don’t trouble yourself. I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t be.” His gaze burned with a promise. “One day, Selene, I’ll find a way to get you out of here. I swear it.”

The words warmed me, but reality pulled hard at my chest. “It’s impossible,” I whispered, though a small part of me wanted to believe. The palace was no home—it was a cage, and cages do not open easily.

The second bell rang, calling us to the midday meal. I tugged Luke’s hand lightly. “Come on. If we’re late, Leonora will have our heads.”

We walked together down the sunlit corridor. Light spilled through high windows, shadows of nobles and courtiers passing beyond. Their steps were unhurried, their laughter free, untouched by fear. I watched them and wondered what it would feel like to live without chains, without shame.

Beneath my cloth covering, the red strands of my hair itched against my scalp—like fire trying to escape. Sometimes, in the secret corners of my heart, a voice whispered that another path waited for me. That I was more than the curse they saw.

But here, with a rag in one hand and fear in the other, I was only Selene: slave, outcast, the girl with the red curse.

As we entered the kitchen again, Leonora’s sharp voice rose above the clatter. Another command. Another scolding. But this time, Luke’s hand lingered against mine, steady and warm, a fragile shield against the cold.