泡泡小說

下載PopNovel閱讀海量小說

THE TRAITOR'S HEART SEDUCING THE ALPHA RUIN

THE TRAITOR'S HEART SEDUCING THE ALPHA RUIN

作家：Ria's whispers

連載中

#New Adult #BG #Werewolf #Alpha #Legitimate Daughter #Spy #Powerful #Possessive #Abused #Dark
簡介
The Traitor's Heart She was branded a curse. He made her a weapon. The betrayal that binds them will either save their world—or burn it to ash. Elara has spent twenty years as the Silver Moon Pack's greatest shame—the wolf who cannot shift, the slave who serves beneath contempt. When Alpha Silas casts her into the frozen dark to die, he gives her more than exile: the Traitor's Notch, a spiritual poison designed to lock her wolf away forever. She expects death. She finds Caelum Thorne instead. The most feared Alpha in the territories doesn't save out of mercy. He sees the burning power in Elara's broken eyes—the ancient bloodline Silas feared, the weapon Caelum has spent a decade hunting. In his obsidian citadel, he brands her into something contentiously powerful,transforming her body, mind, and soul. Their training sessions blur into something darker, something interesting. Every touch ignites. Every command dissolves into questions neither dares to answer. What happens when the weapon falls in love with the hand that wields her? When Elara's wolf finally awakens—midnight-black, deadly, his —Caelum marks her as mate and sends her back to Silver Moon as his spy. Her mission: dismantle the pack from within. Open the gates for his vengeance. Destroy the man who destroyed her. But Silas has secrets too. The journals Elara finds in his private rooms rewrite everything about her bloodline, opening her eyes to hidden truth , her mother's death, the true reason she was cursed. And when Caelum demands she choose between his war and her people's survival, Elara discovers the most dangerous truth of all: The heart is the only traitor that cannot be commanded. With two packs at the brink, a lover who would burn the world for her, and a father who fears her power more than his own death, Elara must become more than a weapon or pawn. She must become Alpha. She must become whole . Or she will lose everything—including the monster who taught her how to love.
展開▼
正文内容

The Blood Moon hung swollen and red above the Silver Moon Pack, a celestial wound dripping light onto the snow. Elara a twenty year old lone werewolf

a weak omega

felt its pull in her marrow—that ancient, aching summons that turned her kin into shadows and fur while she remained trapped in human skin. She stirred the feast-fire with a charred stick, watching sparks die in the dark.

"More wood, curse-blood."

Kael’s voice. Still flushed from his shift, his eyes were too bright. He didn't look at her. They never looked at her. To meet her eyes was to risk contamination by her failure.

"Yes, warrior."

She hauled the logs, shoulders screaming, her palms blistered through worn leather. Twenty years of this. Serving wolves who ran the forest while she remained behind with the scraps, the silence, and the shame. Inside the great hall, the air was thick with the scent of pine and the electric hum of wolves still half-drunk on their other forms. Elara pressed against the wall, tray balanced on her hip, watching Mira—once her friend, now radiant in silk and fur, her mate’s arm possessive around her waist.

Then, silence fell like a blade.

Elara felt him before she saw him—a pressure of dominance so heavy it made her knees weaken. Alpha Silas the greatest Alpha ,crown of the pack moved through the crowd like death itself, his skin pale as the moon, his eyes winter-ice blue. He took his throne, surveying his pack with cold satisfaction.

"Tonight," his voice resonated in their very bones, "we celebrate Silver Moon's strength. Our purity. But we understand that a pack is only as strong as its weakest link."

He stood. The crowd parted, creating a path between his absolute power and her nothingness. "Elara. Step forward."

She walked it, feeling every eye. Her hands shook.

"Twenty years you've eaten our food and taken our protection," Silas said, circling her. He was close enough that she smelled cold stone. His hand found her chin, forcing her face up. "In return? Nothing. A wolf that will not wake. A stain upon our name."

His thumb pressed her jaw, painful and intimate. "Do you know why I keep you? Because you amuse me. Because every time my warriors see you laboring, they remember what happens to weakness in Silver Moon. You are my lesson, little nothing."

He released her, his voice rising to become law. "But amusement fades. Elara of Silver Moon, you are found wanting. Your blood is mud. You are exile."

The word struck her like a physical blow. She swayed, forcing her chin up despite the tears. "Alpha, please—"

"Silence." He drew his blade—silver-tipped, rune-carved, ancient. "I grant you the Traitor's Notch. A gift, Elara. A purpose."

He moved faster than thought. His fist tangled in her hair, yanking her head aside to expose her shoulder. The blade pressed, seared, and burned something into her flesh that went deeper than skin—into the very place where her wolf slept. The pain was impossible. Every rejection and lonely night compressed into white-hot agony. She screamed, and the sound was human, weak, and broken.

Silas held her until it was done. Until the brand smoked on her shoulder, a spiritual poison, a lock on a door that would never open. Then, he threw her aside.

"Take her to the border," Silas commanded. "Let the Nightshade beasts finish what her weakness started."

Kael’s hands grabbed her—rough, indifferent. She was dragged through the snow to the edge where the trees grew dark and the wind carried the howls of things that hunted. They threw her down a slope. She rolled, fetching against a frozen trunk, lying still as their laughter faded. Her pack was celebrating her death.

The forest was a wasteland. Elara tried to stand, but her legs refused. The silver poisoning made her thoughts sluggish. She was dying, and for the first time, she was glad. Let the cold take her.

She closed her eyes. Then, she heard the howls.

Five wolves emerged from the shadows—lean, desperate rogues with eyes reflecting red. They circled. The largest approached her throat, teeth bared. Elara looked at death and found no prayers. She stared into his mad gaze with empty acceptance.

Suddenly, the forest fell silent. The rogues froze, hackles rising, before they scattered into the dark as if the devil himself had breathed down their necks.

Elara lay confused, too cold for fear. Then she felt it—a presence of dominance so absolute it made her lungs labor. Shadows parted to reveal a wolf the size of a pony, black as the void, eyes burning like fallen stars. He shifted. The man who emerged was carved from darkness—tall, broad-shouldered, with a face of harsh planes and cruel beauty. He knelt beside her, his hand finding her throat.

"Silver Moon’s curse," he murmured. "Poisoned by your own Alpha. Tell me, little wolf—do you want to die?"

She should have said yes. But in his depths, she saw a flicker of power.

"No," she whispered. "I want—to make him bleed. To make him regret."

The smile that curved his mouth was predatory. "Good. I am Caelum Thorne, Alpha of Nightshade. And you, Elara—you are mine now."

He lifted her as if she weighed nothing, carrying her into the dark. Behind them, the Blood Moon rose, indifferent. But Elara, cradled in arms like forged iron, felt the first dangerous stirrings of hope.