The Cursed Lycan King’s Contract Bride

Thalyn's POV

My fated mate married my sister in my wedding dress. Before the party was over, I walked past him in another man’s.

Three times we planned our wedding. Three times, Theron chose Coralie. This year a seer said she’d die unless she married him today, so my family gave her my place and locked me upstairs. Then they ignored my screams when his friends forced their way into my room.

They all laughed off the elders’ pact: three years unmarked, and I belong to the cursed Lycan King. Superstition, they said.

So I made one phone call. I renounced my pack and cut every tie that bound me to them.

Under a silver veil, I walked through the garden I’d decorated with my own hands. My parents bowed without knowing me.

Only Theron caught a trace of my scent. By the time Coralie let go of his sleeve, I was gone.

——

At the rehearsal dinner the night before my wedding, my mother stood up in front of everyone and announced that my fated bond with Theron was a bad omen—one the Moon Goddess herself frowned upon.

Then she took my wedding dress and gave it to my sister, Coralie.

Coralie would marry Theron in my place.

And everyone just went along with it.

As if they'd all forgotten that the Council of Elders had promised me, years ago, to the cursed Lycan King as his contracted bride. The terms were simple: if I reached the end of my third year after coming of age without being marked by a mate, the betrothal would stand.

This was my third year.

That same night, I tracked Theron down and begged him to take me away.

But all he did was try to calm me down.

"Hey. You're my true mate, Thalyn. What I'm giving her is a ceremony. That's all it is."

"The healer says Coralie won't survive this full moon. The wedding's just for show—I'm not going to mark her. Go home and wait for me, okay? The second it's over, I'll come back for you."

Then he turned around and told my parents everything.

Terrified I'd ruin the wedding, they locked me in my bedroom.

Through the door, I could hear them laughing.

"The Lycan King? Please. That's just a story the Elders tell to scare the pups. Superstitious nonsense."

"Theron, you just focus on getting Coralie down that aisle. The seer was very clear—if she doesn't marry you, she won't live to see the next full moon."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Lessard."

Theron didn't miss a beat. The perfect son-in-law.

On the other side of that door, my family sounded so warm. So happy.

And I was completely alone.

What none of them knew was that the Elders had already come to me.

If I wasn't married by the end of the day, they would send someone for me. From then on, I would belong to the Lycan King—and I'd never set foot off his territory again without his permission. Not for the rest of my life.

My phone buzzed. Elder Ossian.

"I hear your fated mate is marrying your sister." His voice was hoarse, but perfectly calm. "You know the terms of the agreement. Your fate is bound to the cursed Lycan King. If you remain unmarked..."

My throat burned. I swallowed the knot of bitterness down until I could trust my voice again.

"I understand, Elder Ossian."

"You can send someone for me."

This was the third wedding we'd planned.

Three years, I'd loved him. Every year, he'd asked me—so solemnly, so sincerely—if I would be his Luna. And every single year, it fell apart because of the same person.

Year one: on the morning of our wedding, Coralie "fell" and broke her ankle. Theron and my entire family left me standing at the altar and stampeded to the hospital to keep vigil at her bedside.

Year two: halfway through the ceremony, word came that Coralie had run off to the cliffs alone, threatening to end her life. Theron abandoned me mid-vow and took every last guest with him to search for her.

This year, a seer showed up out of nowhere. He claimed the Moon Goddess had never blessed my bond with Theron—and that Coralie was so frail, the only thing that could save her life was a wedding. Today. The safest solution? Let her marry Theron in my place. Once it was over, everything would go back to normal.

My parents and Theron agreed without a second thought. Not one of them ever asked me if I was okay with it.

Even though I'd told them, again and again, exactly what would happen to me if I didn't get married this time.

Outside my window, Coralie was glowing.

She was wearing the dress that should have been mine, flanked by the bridesmaids I had personally chosen. The photographer beamed at the picture-perfect couple and waved everyone into position.

"Luna, eyes over here, sweetheart—"

"And Alpha, go ahead and kiss your bride!"

Theron hesitated. For half a second, his eyes started to lift—toward the window where I was locked away.

But he caught himself.

He lowered his head and kissed Coralie.

And in that moment, something inside me snapped.

Three years of loving him crumbled into dust.

He'd sworn to me once that he would only ever kiss the girl he truly loved.

Now he had.

It just wasn't me.