Chapter 1When I opened my eyes again, my dear sister was already lying in my mate's bed.
Selection Day.
Tears streaming down her face, she dropped to her knees in front of me.
"Please, Nerida... let me have Gareth. We already... we already slept together."
I looked at her.
The man who used me as a breeding tool in my last life—she thought he was some prize.
I smiled. "Fine. You two deserve each other."
Dad let out this huge sigh of relief. "Good, good. So you'll marry that... what's his name? The Veylan pack guy?"
Every wolf in the alliance knew the Veylan pack was dirt poor. No one had married into that pack in centuries.
I glanced back. My sister was grinning like she'd won the lottery.
She had no idea.
When she couldn't give him a child, would she still be smiling?
---
I died in a fire my sister set.
Last thing I saw? Her face pressed against the window, watching me burn. Smiling.
Now I'm back. Standing in my father's study like nothing happened. Sunlight's pouring in. Birds are singing outside.
It's Selection Day.
Every hundred years, the wolf packs hold a Selection—human daughters marry wolf heirs. Whoever has the first wolf pup? That kid becomes the next Alpha.
Last life, I married Gareth Wolfhart. Everyone said he was loyal, dependable.
I gave him a son first—Rowan, a white wolf pup. Future Alpha, locked in. Gareth rode that straight to power.
Isolde only cared about looks. She married Zephyr Stoneridge because he was hot and had status.
Turns out the guy slept around. A lot. Gave her some nasty disease, wrecked her body. She can't have kids anymore.
She didn't hate him. Didn't hate herself.
She hated me.
One day she came over. Brought tea. Said she missed me. I drank it. Rowan was playing nearby. When I woke up, everything was on fire. I was holding my son. The door was locked.
She stood outside and watched me burn.
Before I can even think, Isolde drops to her knees in front of me. Tears everywhere, voice all shaky and pitiful.
"Nerida, please. Gareth and I—we're in love. Real love. Just let me have him, okay? I already... I already slept with him. If you don't let me marry him, how am I supposed to show my face anywhere?"
She's good at this. But I can see past the tears now—she's not heartbroken. She's smug.
She came back too.
And this time, she moved faster. Got into Gareth's bed first.
My father clears his throat. "Nerida, maybe pick someone else? Your sister just made a mistake. Things already went this far..."
Isolde's his bastard daughter. I'm the legitimate one—born to his actual wife.
But my whole life? He's always picked her side. Always.
I stare at her kneeling there, tears streaming down, looking so damn sorry for herself. But her eyes? Pure greed. She's not even hiding it.
I dig my nails into my palm. The pain stops me from wrapping my hands around her throat.
Then I smile. "Fine. You two are so in love? Go ahead."
She freezes. Even stops crying for a second.
My father relaxes. "Good, good. Isolde, get up and thank your sister."
"...Thank you."
She scrambles up and runs out. Probably going straight to Gareth.
My father turns back to me, looking kind of guilty. "Nerida, there's only two unmated heirs left—Theron Veylan and Zephyr Stoneridge. Zephyr's not bad. Good-looking, high status—"
"I'm marrying Theron."
He blinks. "The Veylan guy? Their pack's been pushed aside for years. They've got nothing. Nobody's married into that family in forever..."
Last time, I thought the same thing. So I picked Gareth.
But when I was dying in that fire, choking on smoke, I saw someone running toward me.
Green eyes. Burning through the flames.
Theron Veylan.
He tried to get in. Tried to save me. The fire was too big, the house was collapsing—he couldn't make it.
But he was the only one who tried.
Everyone else? Didn't even show up.
I look my father dead in the eye.
"No, I've made up my mind. I'm marrying Theron Veylan."
Chapter 2
My father wasn't happy about my choice, but when he saw I wasn't backing down, he gave up.
He sighed. "If it gets bad over there, ask your sister for help."
I didn't answer. Ask his "sweet, thoughtful" favorite for help?
Last life, her idea of helping was locking me in a burning house.
News spread fast. Half a day later, Isolde showed up.
She leaned against my doorframe, eating a cookie, grinning like she'd won the lottery.
"Nerida, I get it—you're pissed I'm marrying Gareth. But the Veylan pack? They don't even have a decent house. You'll starve before you even have a kid."
She wasn't quiet. Servants in the hall heard everything. A few glanced over, then looked away fast.
I didn't respond.
She thought she'd hit a nerve. Stepped closer.
"Gareth said the Wolfhart pack had a huge harvest up north. Tons of herbs and furs. If things get really bad, I'll ask him to help you out. You know, for old times."
Then she laughed. Covered her mouth and laughed till she almost doubled over.
She thought she'd won. Stole Gareth, stole the Wolfhart pack, stole the title of future Luna. In her mind, the only reason I had a good life last time was because I married the right guy. Now that she'd taken him? I was supposed to be in the dirt.
What she didn't know: getting pregnant as a human married to a wolf? Not easy.
Last life, I didn't conceive for six months. Gareth didn't say anything at first, but his face got darker every day. He started breaking things. Yelling. Locking me in a cold room with no heat.
Those six months were hell.
I only got pregnant with Rowan because I used other methods. Once I had the baby—once I gave him a son—everything changed. He finally looked at me like I mattered.
Isolde thought Gareth was sweet because he loved her?
Nah. He was sweet because she could still get pregnant. Give it a few months. When her stomach stays flat? She'll get a taste of what I went through.
I smiled. "Worry about yourself. I picked who I picked. No regrets."
My smile wiped the smug look off her face. She grabbed the cookies and swept them onto the floor.
"Fine! When I have my son first and become the Wolfhart Luna, you can beg on your knees and I still won't help you!"
I turned and walked away.
The wedding was in three days. She was right about one thing—the Veylan pack was broke. I figured they wouldn't even have a dress, so I planned to buy one.
That night, someone knocked.
I opened the door. A man stood there in a dark gray coat with a silver pin on the collar, holding a long wooden box.
This was the first time I really looked at Theron Veylan.
Pale skin. Green eyes that looked cold at first, but there was a tiny mole under one corner that softened it. Hard to describe.
He stayed in the doorway, keeping distance like he didn't want to push.
"Miss Walters," he said, voice low. "Our tailor made this. The pack helped sew it. It's a gift. From all of us."
He handed me the box.
Inside was a long, deep green gown. The hem touched the floor, and the bodice had tiny silver wolf emblems stitched in. Under the light, they shimmered.
I'd never seen anything like it. I just stared.
Theron stood there, serious. "This is the first time the Veylan pack married a human. If you don't like something, tell me. I'll fix it."
"It's beautiful," I said. "I love it."
I was about to close the box when footsteps echoed down the hall.
Isolde came around the corner, draped all over Gareth's arm, grinning like a cat with a mouse.
"Oh wow, Nerida, that's your wedding dress?" She peeked in, then covered her mouth in fake shock. "Gareth bought me ten dresses. The Wolfhart pack really is different."
Gareth stood next to her, hand on her waist, squeezing every few seconds, looking at her like she hung the moon.
Isolde thought she'd landed the best man alive. Wolves are loyal, devoted, mate for life—that's what everyone says. What she didn't know? Wolf loyalty has conditions. That condition is a kid.
No kid? No loyalty.
Theron's jaw tightened. He glanced at me, voice dropping. "I'm sorry. Marrying me probably feels like a downgrade. But I promise—I won't let anyone disrespect you."
Isolde snorted. "Sure. Say that after you get her pregnant."
She couldn't go three sentences without mentioning kids.
Last life, when she couldn't conceive, it destroyed her. This time, she'd already moved into Gareth's place before the wedding. Like if she didn't get pregnant tomorrow, the world would end.
In a way, she and Gareth were perfect. One desperate for a kid, the other only caring if she could have one.
I looked at her and smiled. "Worry about your own wedding. People might think you're still hung up on my fiancé."
Isolde's face went stiff. Gareth's too.
I didn't wait. Grabbed Theron's hand and walked past them.
Behind me, Isolde's voice—soft and whiny—begging Gareth to "start trying for a baby" and "give her a son."
My stupid sister.
Two lifetimes. Same brain. Still only thinking about one thing.
I pulled Theron out of the hallway, didn't stop till we hit the garden behind the house.
He stood behind me, voice quiet, careful. "Miss Walters, I know you didn't pick me because you wanted to. But I'll do everything I can so you're not treated badly."
I turned around, almost walked straight into his chest. A faint smell hit me—something like cedar mixed with wet moss.
I looked up. "Who said I didn't want to pick you? And I'm marrying you. Stop calling me Miss Walters."
He froze. His ears went red. Visibly red.
"Okay. Nerida."
Chapter 3
Three days later. Wedding day.
Two ceremonies, same place. But they looked like different worlds.
The Wolfhart side went all out. They brought in the Moonlight Choir—hadn't been seen in years. Four of the five pack Alphas showed up. Crystal glasses everywhere, hand-woven carpets shipped from up north.
The Veylan side was quiet. Maybe ten people. Faded old coats. Sitting in the corner. No performances. No big names. Wildflowers on the tables—picked from the roadside that morning.
When I walked over in the green dress Theron gave me, a few Veylan women looked up. Eyes lit up, but carefully. Like they wanted to smile but were scared to smile too big. Like if they did, the whole thing would vanish.
The Veylan pack hadn't married a human in hundreds of years. A human bride meant they finally had a shot at the Alpha title.
For them, that was everything.
After the ceremony, I ran into Isolde in the hall.
She walked past, neck stretched out, neckline pulled way down. Red marks all over her collarbone. Making sure I saw.
"Nerida," she said, voice sugary sweet. "I had no idea the Wolfhart guys were so good in bed. You don't even know—Gareth, he—"
"I don't care."
She choked, then laughed. "You're just jealous! Won't be long before I'm pregnant. Then—"
"Then go get pregnant. Stop standing here."
She always thought getting pregnant was easy. Last life, when I had a son, she figured I just got lucky. She didn't know humans and wolves don't conceive easily. Usually takes over a year.
She thought six months was winning. Gareth believed her. Told the whole pack they'd have an heir in six months.
My smile? She took it as a challenge.
"Whatever. You wouldn't get it." She glanced at Theron and the Veylan members waiting for me, looking at them like garbage. "Marrying into a broke pack like that? This is your life now."
She lifted her dress and walked past, chin sky-high.
I grabbed her arm. "Apologize."
"What?" She yanked away, voice sharp. Everyone turned.
"Apologize to the Veylan pack."
Her face went white, then red. Guests stopped to watch. Whispers started.
My father came over. Asked what happened, face dark. Told Isolde to apologize right there.
The Veylan pack might've fallen, but they were still one of the five. Publicly insulting them made the whole alliance look bad.
Isolde bit out a "sorry," then glared at me. Leaned close, whispered, "I'm winning this time."
I watched her stomp off. Said nothing.
---
Wedding night.
Theron took off his coat. Started unbuttoning his shirt.
I sat on the bed watching. Button by button. Pale skin underneath—so pale you could see blue veins.
Then he took off the last piece.
I froze.
No one told me the Veylan pack—
Were this big.
I stared. Brain blank.
He saw me not moving and his face changed. Grabbed his clothes off the floor, started putting them back on fast, like he'd done something wrong.
"What are you doing?" I grabbed the clothes.
"I thought you didn't want to." He stood there, naked, hands awkward, not knowing where to put them. Green eyes dimmed. "It's okay if you—"
"Who said I didn't want to?"
I stood up, wrapped my arms around his neck, pulled him onto the bed. Got close and smelled it again—that scent, stronger now. Made my head spin.
I buried my face in his neck. "You smell so good."
He went stiff. Didn't move.
Then his ear, pressed against my cheek, started burning.
When he leaned down, his breath shook. Lips touched my forehead. Paused. Then lower. Eyebrow. Eyelid. Nose.
Kissed hard. Urgent. Like he'd been holding back forever.
By morning I realized: I used to think the Wolfhart pack had stamina. That was before the Veylan pack.
---
Three months later, Isolde got pregnant.
I was eating breakfast when I heard. Almost didn't believe it. In thousands of years, no human ever got pregnant in three months.
Then I saw her at a banquet with a belly. That's when I believed.
The Wolfhart pack went insane. Threw a celebration, invited everyone. Gareth stood in the hall grinning. "The ancestors blessed us! Three months!"
Everyone knew—first pup born becomes the next Alpha. If Isolde's baby was a boy, the Wolfhart pack locked in power.
Isolde made sure I sat next to her.
She rubbed her belly, smiled sweet and mean. "Nerida, three months and your stomach's still flat. Guess your Veylan husband's not up to it."
People nearby heard. Some snickered.
I didn't respond.
She'd been eating too much. Gained tons of weight. Belly huge. She didn't know wolf pups are big. If she kept eating, labor would destroy her.
I sipped my drink. "Shortest pregnancy between humans and wolves is a year. You got pregnant in three months. How'd you pull that off? Only you know."
Her smile froze. She whipped her head toward me. Eyes flickered. Mouth moved. No words.
One sentence and she panicked. Never could keep her cool.
I raised my glass. "Hope delivery goes well."
Found Theron. Left.
---
Two months later, Isolde gave birth.
Three days. Three nights. You could hear her screaming across the whole territory.
After the baby came, the Wolfhart pack didn't let anyone visit for a week. My father tried. They blocked him.
Something was wrong.
Two weeks later, my father sent for me.
Theron came with me.
We walked into the room. Isolde sat on the floor holding a red-furred wolf pup. Crying. Eyes swollen shut.
"This is mine and Gareth's baby!" she said, voice wrecked. "Wolf fur changes color, right?"
She clung to that story.
But she didn't know—the Wolfhart pack was pure white wolves. Generations back.
Never a single red hair.
