Chapter 1 Getting Married

• Lora
• Oh, Moon Goddess, I really need this marriage.
• My name is Lora Blake, and I am a werewolf.
• I am the heir of the Moonlit Pack, or I used to be, before internal conflicts within the pack caused its decline twenty years ago. Eventually, other packs began sniffing around our weakened defenses like vultures circling and when they struck, we were helpless to do anything but submit to their will. Five years later, my mother, Luna of the Moonlit, and I were demoted to Omegas and endured endless humiliation. We were treated worse than slaves, turned into objects of mirth and caricature.
• It's no surprise I broke.
• I refused to be bullied any longer, so I voluntarily left the pack, taking my mother with me, fleeing from the nightmare that my life had become to Torrent City, where the human population in the city far outnumbered the werewolf population. Maybe, this could be the fresh start we needed. Maybe, Torrent city would be much safer than Windstorm City which was filled with werewolves.
• How naive I was.
• Torrent City had a strange rule for werewolves; if a werewolf failed to find a pack willing to accept them before the age of 25, they would be considered a rogue wolf and banished from the city.
• This edict terrified me and my mother at first, but weeks of hiding, I discovered that marrying a native of Torrent City would provide us with identification, thus preventing us from being banished.
• So, in order to save I and my mother's necks, I did something totally outrageous: I "married" myself.
• The time for the scheduled marriage registration had passed by half an hour, and my future "husband" was yet to show up. Fraught with worry, I took out my phone, ready to dial him, when his name flashed across the screen.
• As soon as I answered, a barrage of insults assaulted my ears, "Lora Blake, you disgusting she-wolf, lowly Omega, whatever made you think a lowly college student such as yourself could ever end up with me?! " I held the phone away from my ear, wincing as he raged on.
• "I'd rather burn at stake than hook up with a broke college student who isn't worth a dime!" He roared. "You have some nerve, chatting me on Tiktok for three days and then proposing marriage! If it weren't for my ex-girlfriend being in the same university, I would have almost been fooled by you. Do not ever contact me again. Fucking bitch!"
• "Now, just a minute–" I started but was cut off by a loud beep.
• He had hung up on me without even giving me a chance to explain myself.
• I clenched my phone, knuckles turning white as my lips moved, unable to produce a sound in my defense.
• The monologue had been loud, drawing many human eyes on me, their gazes a mixture of disdain and contempt. The glares felt akin to a thousand needles piercing through me, reminding me of the nightmare from two years ago.
• I had attended a group cocktail party held by the clan in Windstorm City. I'd had only a glass of champagne but had somehow ended up completely drunk.
• When I had woken up with a pounding head and a sour mouth, it was to discover I was in an unfamiliar hotel bed, a burning sensation taking over my lower abdomen, my core clenching painfully.
• I tried to sit up, groaning when my head began to spin. I didn't make much progress before my body began convulsing uncontrollably, and in a daze, I seemed to see a strange werewolf looming over me.
• What followed was intense pain and humiliation.
• The werewolf bit into my shoulder, his sharp teeth breaking skin and drawing blood.
• I never expected to feel his thick shaft hardening against my thigh, and before I could even make a sound, he thrust deeply, setting a punishing rhythm which suddenly set off intense contractions through my core. Waves of pain bloomed through me, and I couldn't help but cry out in shame.
• The sound of skin slapping obscenely skin, the low growl of the man behind me as he came, painting my walls with spurt after spurt of his come, my uncontrollable moans filling my ears.
• I could never forget that humiliating night, no matter how hard I struggled. My screams, the blinding pain, they were all memories I couldn't escape nor outrun, no matter how hard I tried...
• When I woke up, I glanced down at the bruises on my body, a stark contrast to my pale skin.
• I was just an Omega, with no ability to discern the identity of that werewolf. I fled the room in shock and embarrassment, only to be caught by a hotel staff member.
• "I remember that room was booked by an old werewolf in his fifties." He exclaimed as he took stock of the visible bruises on my arms. "Look at all these marks on her body" his colleague whispered theatrically. "I didn't expect that old guy to be quite the player!"
• I was too stunned to argue. For the next two years, I tried my best to forget this shameful memory.
• Although I have escaped the heartbreak of Windstorm City, the mockery of the hotel staff seems to echo in my ears.
• Each time, it makes me nauseous and tremble uncontrollably.
• "Miss, would you marry me?"
• A deep timbre suddenly suddenly invaded the turbulent waves of my mind, pulling me back from the edge of unbearable memories.
• I looked up, befuddled.
• While I had been stuck in the past, a man in a wheelchair had appeared in front of me at some point.
• He had a face so perfect that it took my breath away, with sharp arches for eyebrows and starry eyes. Every line on his face seemed like a meticulously crafted work of art, without a single flaw.
• He wore a plain white shirt, but the sharp, precise tailoring emphasized his lean, powerful frame. Even seated in a wheelchair, he radiated an unapproachable intensity. Cold, composed, and unbowed, like a blade sheathed in ice.
• For a moment, I was struck speechless.
• He could sense the familiar scent of his own kind emanating from his body.
• Was he also a werewolf?!