The Alpha King's Cure:his perfect mate.

[ AURORA’S POV ]

Three sharp knocks punched through the silence of my room. I jolted, my heart hammering against my ribs. And I turned toward the door slowly.

It was the night of the full moon. The night the entire pack stayed locked away, terrified of the King’s wolf. They said his transformation was a curse of agony, that the pain turned him into a mindless, feral beast.

 I had just finished my bath, hoping to sleep through the screams, but fate had other plans.

I pulled the door open. Lucas, the King’s Beta, stood there like a statue.

"Come with me. Now," he commanded.

For a split second, I saw a flicker in his eyes. Pity? It vanished before I could be sure, replaced by a cold, professional mask. My stomach twisted. If the King’s right-hand man felt sorry for me, I was already dead.

The walk to the King’s wing felt like a march to the gallows. The stone hallway was freezing, but sweat slicked my palms. Usually, the castle hummed with life, but tonight, it was a graveyard quiet. The only sound was the heavy thud-thud of Lucas’s boots and the frantic, shallow rhythm of my breathing.

As we neared the Royal Chambers, the air grew heavy, as if it were charged with electricity. I saw the guards—double the usual amount. They stood rigid, their faces pale under their helmets. Joe, the King’s most loyal guard, caught my eye for a second. He looked away quickly, his jaw tight.

Lucas stopped at the massive oak doors. He pushed one open just a crack, but didn't move to enter.

"Go in," he muttered, his voice low. "And Aurora? Don't argue. Do exactly what he says."

I felt the blood drain from my face. "Are you... You aren't coming in?"

"No," Lucas said, staring at the floor. "He asked for you alone. Move."

He didn't wait for me to agree. He nudged me forward, and I stumbled into the darkness. The door clicked shut behind me, and the sound of the lock engaging felt like a guillotine blade dropping.

The room was swallowed in shadows, save for a single, haunting beam of silver moonlight cutting across the floor. The scent hit me immediately—musk, cedar, and the sharp, metallic tang of raw power. It was so thick I could almost taste it.

I stood frozen, my eyes glued to my own trembling toes. I could hear it now—the sound of heavy, ragged breathing coming from the corner. It wasn't human. It was deep, vibrating through the floorboards and into the soles of my feet.

Grrrrrrr…

A low, guttural growl tore through the air. My heart leaped into my throat. From the darkest corner, a figure shifted.

He moved toward me, not like a man, but like a predator stalking a wounded deer. When he stepped into the moonlight, I gasped. His skin was flushed, his muscles twitching under the surface, and his eyes—the King’s beautiful golden eyes—were gone. They were replaced by two pits of endless, swirling black.

I instinctively scrambled backward, my heel catching on the rug.

"Take another step, Aurora," he hissed, his voice a distorted rasp that made my skin crawl, "and your blood will paint these walls red."

A sob broke from my throat. I turned and lunged for the door, my fingernails clawing at the wood. I hammered my fists against the heavy oak.

"Let me out! Lucas! Please, let me out!" I screamed, my voice cracking with terror.

The growl behind me grew louder, closer. I felt the heat of his body radiating against my back. I froze, my hand still raised to knock, as the hair on the back of my neck stood up. He was right behind me.

The heat coming off his body was like standing next to a furnace. I could feel his breath against the back of my neck—heavy, ragged, and smelling of salt and forest rain. My heart was beating so hard I thought it might actually burst through my chest.

I didn't move. I didn't even breathe.

"Please," I whispered, my forehead pressed against the cold wood of the door. "Please don't."

A large, calloused hand slammed against the door right next to my head. The wood groaned under the force. I flinched, my eyes squeezed shut. Then, his other hand gripped my waist, his fingers digging into my skin through my thin nightgown.

He didn't pull me away. Instead, he buried his face in the crook of my neck and took a long, deep breath.

"You smell... like jasmine," he growled. The sound was vibrating directly against my skin, sending a shiver of pure terror down my spine. "Why couldn’t I get you out of my head, even on a night like this? I will break you Aurora. I will ruin you so much that you will come back for more. That if you come out of this alive.”

"I... please don't," I managed to choke out.

I felt his teeth graze my pulse point. It wasn't a bite—not yet—but a warning. His wolf was right there, just under the surface, fighting for control. He was trembling, his whole body shaking with the effort of not snapping my neck.

"Look at me," he commanded.

I didn't want to. I wanted to disappear into the floorboards. But the way he said it—low, dangerous, and cracking with pain—left me no choice. I slowly turned around, my back sliding against the door until I was facing him.

He was towering over me. His shirt was torn at the collar, and sweat rolled down his chest. But it was his face that haunted me. His jaw was clenched so tight I thought his teeth might break, and those pitch-black eyes were searching mine, looking for something.

The heat radiating from him was making my head spin. It wasn't just fear anymore, it was a heavy, suffocating warmth that made my skin prickle.

Is he going to kill me? The stories flashed through my mind like a nightmare. Every woman sent to his bed on a full moon had ended up dead. 

They whispered around the pack about the "King's Rut"—a madness so violent, so hungry, that no human body could survive it. Only Lumi had ever walked out alive, and that was why she was made the king’s personal sex worker, or the king’s mistress like she always called herself.

So why was I here? Where was she?

"Take off your clothes, Aurora."

His voice didn't sound like a man's anymore. It was a low, vibrating command that seemed to rattle the bones in my chest. "Get on the bed. On your back. Legs spread."

A sob broke from my throat. My eyes squeezed shut, hot tears leaking out and tracking down my cold cheeks. "Please," I choked out, my voice small and trembling. "Please, don't make me."

The response was a roar—a sound so full of venom and raw anger that the floor beneath my feet seemed to shake. I flinched, my knees nearly buckling. I thought I might actually wet myself right there.

There was no exit. No mercy.

I turned away from him, my legs feeling like lead. My fingers fumbled, shaking so hard I could barely grab the silk straps of my nightgown. I stood there for a heartbeat, shivering in the dark, before I let the fabric slide. It hissed against my skin, pooling around my ankles in a heap of white lace.

I stood there, naked and exposed in the silver moonlight, my shoulders hunched as I wept silently.

Behind me, the growl changed. It wasn't angry anymore. It was low, guttural, and a satisfied growl. The sound of a predator that had finally cornered its prey.

 I heard the heavy thud of his boots as he took a step closer, and my vision blurred until the room was nothing but a smear of shadows and tears.