Betrayed By My Husband, Craved By The Alpha King

Elara's POV:

In the glittering hotel ballroom, my husband Garrett Miller laughed. He threw his head back, a perfect picture of charm, as he schmoozed with some business associate. He hadn't looked at me once in the last hour.

The stem of the champagne flute was slick and cold against my fingers. I tightened my grip, the crystal groaning in protest. My knuckles were white.

This was our third wedding anniversary. It was also the third annual Pack summit where I served as little more than a decoration he'd brought along.

A whisper, sharp and venomous, slithered past my ear. "Look, the wolfless is being ignored by her Alpha again."

"Pathetic," another voice chimed in. "An Alpha would never treat his mate that way. But then, she's not a real mate, is she? Just a piece of furniture."

The laughter that followed was like acid. A hot flush crawled up my neck, burning my cheeks. I tipped the flute back, the champagne a bitter trail down my throat. The burn in my stomach was a welcome distraction from the humiliation coiling in my gut.

I needed air.

Turning my back on the shimmering crowd, I pushed open the heavy glass doors to the terrace. The cool night air was a relief against my hot skin, clearing some of the alcoholic haze. I leaned against the cold marble balustrade, the city lights a blur below. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I refused to let them fall.

I pulled out my phone. The screen lit up with a photo of Garrett and me, taken just before our bonding ceremony three years ago. I had just graduated from law school with honors back then. I gave up offers from top firms to be with him and took a legal position at his company. I agreed to it all because, at that time, the way he looked at me seemed like love. I let out a dry, humorless laugh. What a fool I'd been.

Another glass of champagne, snatched from a passing waiter's tray, went down just as quickly as the first. My vision swam.

A tall, broad-shouldered figure stood at the far end of the terrace, his back to me. The silhouette was so familiar it made my heart ache. Garrett?

The alcohol and the raw wound in my chest made me reckless. I stumbled toward him, needing a hug, a crumb of comfort, anything.

I approached him from behind and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my face into the expensive fabric of his suit jacket. I inhaled, expecting Garrett's familiar scent, but found something else. Something clean and cold, like snow and cedar.

He didn't move. I thought this meant he was accepting my embrace, and a flicker of joy sparked in my chest.

"Garrett," I whispered, my voice thick. "I'm so sad."

His body went rigid. Instantly. This wasn't Garrett's reaction. A wave of power, immense and suffocating, rolled off him, making the air crackle with strangeness.

He turned slowly. My blurry gaze met a pair of ice-gray eyes. There was no warmth in them, only a cool, assessing curiosity.

I was terrified. This wasn't Garrett.

I recognized him from the opening ceremony tonight-the man they whispered about in awe and fear. Aiden Beaumont. The Alpha King.

Panic seized me. I tried to pull my hands back, but his fingers, strong and unyielding, clamped around my wrist like a steel trap. His voice was a low, resonant rumble, like the deepest note of a cello.

"You've been holding on," he murmured, bringing his lips close to mine, a cruel amusement in his tone. "Is this how you betray your husband, Mrs. Miller?"

His words were a bucket of ice water, extinguishing the drunken haze and leaving me sober and raw. I pushed him away roughly. Humiliation burned through me, hot and sharp. I couldn't form a single word in my defense.

"You embrace me first, and then you push me away, hmm?" he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "A wolfless who offers herself up to the first stranger, and a man who deceives his own mate. You're a perfect match."

"What do you mean?" I realized he was talking about Garrett in the second half of his sentence. "What deception?"

"It seems you don't know yet, Mrs. Miller. How pitiful." He let out a contemptuous laugh. "From the main hall, take the left corridor, room 1012. Go. You're welcome."

He turned and melted back into the shadows, leaving me frozen.

The phantom touch of his lips still tingled on mine, but it was drowned out by the sting of his insult. I took a shaky breath, smoothed down my dress, and decided to go to the room he had mentioned. I needed to find out what he was hinting at.

The corridor was quiet, away from the main hall. From a corner up ahead, I heard a muffled gasp and the rustle of fabric.

That room, 1012, its door was not fully closed.

A familiar scent drifted towards me-the sweet perfume my friend Leah Foster always wore.

I didn't know Leah was here tonight. Curiosity pulled me forward. I crept up and peered through the crack in the door.

But what I saw was like a horror scene.

Garrett had Leah pinned against the wall, his hands roaming her body while their mouths were locked in a desperate, hungry kiss. Her arms were wrapped tightly around my husband's neck, a soft moan of pleasure escaping her lips.

It was a passion I had never, not once in three years of marriage, received from him.

My hand flew to my mouth, stifling the scream that clawed its way up my throat. My heart felt like it was being crushed by an invisible fist, the pain so intense I couldn't breathe.

So tonight, while he was busy networking, he still found time to be with my friend. Yet he couldn't spare a single moment for me.

Aiden's mocking words echoed in my head. Is this how you betray your husband?

How ironic. I hadn't actually betrayed Garrett, but he had truly betrayed our bond.

I didn't scream. I didn't rush forward. I made myself think like a law student and forced myself to stay calm.

I knew I needed evidence, so I could gain the upper hand when it came time to dissolve this mate bond in the future.

I pulled out my phone, aimed the camera at the dark corner, and pressed record.

The tangled figures on the screen were the ultimate mockery of my three-year marriage. A tear slid silently down my cheek, and I didn't even realize it until I tasted the salt on my lips. I pretended to be strong, but the truth hurt that much.

A minute later, I quietly put the phone away and turned, a ghost slipping away unseen.

I walked quickly, then ran, through the long, opulent hallways, desperate to escape this disgusting place. I burst through the back door of the hotel, the cold night wind a brutal shock against my tear-streaked face.

I ran into the garden. A figure was standing there.