THE ALPHA KING AND HIS VIRGIN BRIDE

On the night of the full moon, the long corridor outside the hospital morgue was deserted. I burst into the emergency room with his dying body in my arms, my hands still trembling. "Blood type mismatch!" "The transfused blood is dissolving!" The doctors panicked. Nurses screamed and backed away—gray-black wolf patterns surfaced on his bare skin, writhing like living things. Yet the moment I touched him, his torn wounds began to heal. His heartbeat returned. His breathing steadied. The monitor emitted a steady, rhythmic beep. Silence filled the room. Then, slowly, he opened his eyes—golden irises locking onto me. "You've finally come... my fated bride." I didn't understand what he meant. Not until midnight struck, and a hundred wolves howled in unison outside the window. Memories surged like a tidal wave—I wasn't human. I was the pure-blood princess of the wolf tribe, lost for a century, cursed to be reborn as a mortal, stripped of my true name. Only a first kiss with the Alpha Wolf King could awaken my bloodline and break the cycle. But the price was this: if the ritual was interrupted, my soul would shatter into nothingness. Three days later, I stood on stage at school to receive my scholarship. Under the spotlight, before the applause faded, Lily suddenly rose with a cold smirk. "Naomi Sommers? You dare stand here? Your grandmother owes a million in medical fees—she's surviving on blood sales, and you're up there playing noble?" Laughter erupted from the audience. I gripped the microphone, about to speak— BOOM! The auditorium doors crashed open. Snow-laden wind rushed in. A Rolls-Royce, black as obsidian, halted at the steps. He stepped out, draped in a dark crimson cloak, twelve massive jet-black wolves following behind. The entire hall fell dead silent. Before everyone’s eyes, he knelt on one knee, offering a ring embedded with a crescent moon gemstone. "Naomi, come back with me. The entire Northern Wolf Dominion is your dowry. Refuse me, and tomorrow your grandmother will be thrown out of the hospital." I stared at the photo on my phone—my grandmother, tubes in her body—and my fingers went numb. One week later, we completed the first kiss upon an ancient altar. Flames rose. Silver chains coiled around us. My blood reversed its flow, returning to my heart, transforming into pure lupine power. The sky split open. The century-old curse shattered. I thought I would die. Instead, he pushed me away—and took the backlash himself. "Do you really think," he coughed blood, smiling, "that the sacrifice of the 'fated bride' must be *you*? I am merely the Wolf King… but you are the last ember of our entire bloodline." Moonlight bathed the ruins. His body slowly turned to ash. And I stood at the center of the wreckage, hearing the roar of an ancient bloodline awakening within me. The true curse was never that we couldn't love. It was that he willingly let me kill him once—so I could save him a thousand times over.