The Alpha Prince's Defiant Second Chance Mate

Audra POV:

I gasped for air as my eyes flew open, the red candlelight burning my vision while a dry retch tore from my throat.

A heavy, scorching body pressed me down into the velvet mattress. The thick scent of cedar mixed with blood filled my nose, stealing my breath and making my limbs shake. In our werewolf kingdom, every wolf carried a unique scent that revealed their identity before their face ever could, and this suffocating aura belonged only to a royal predator.

I bent my knee to kick the man off me, but a rough, calloused hand pinned my wrists above my head like an iron clamp.

Sharp pain shot through my bones. I sucked in a cold breath as my blurry vision finally focused on the flushed, vein-bulging face hovering above mine.

It was Crown Prince Casimer Beaumont. The heir to the Silvermoon Kingdom, whom the entire Royal Court whispered was a sickly invalid on the verge of death, was currently pinning me down with terrifying Alpha dominance.

My head buzzed as if struck by lightning. Taking in the red silk drapes and white ceremonial candles around the room felt like having a bucket of ice water poured over me from head to toe. A scene I had lived through before overlapped with this one in a dizzying rush, and my mind snapped into icy clarity. If this was not a dream, then the Moon Goddess had given me a second chance-I had been reborn, back on the night of my Marking Ceremony, the very night that had destroyed my life.

My heart hammered against my ribs as bloody memories flashed through my mind. In my past life, because of tonight, my family, the noble Sinclair Pack, had been stripped of our titles, banished as landless Rogues, and slaughtered in the snow.

And Casimer-the man I had spent years cursing as the monster who defiled me-carrying my broken body out of that burning palace, taking a blade meant for my heart. Only then did I learn the truth: my betrothed, Bret Holland, and the Eldest Prince, Byron Beaumont, had drugged us both, plotting to ruin my honor, exile my family, and seize the Sinclair Pack's power. Casimer had never been my enemy. He had been the only one who tried to save me.

I bit down hard on my lower lip until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, forcing back the scream rising in my throat.

Good. Now I could not panic. Since the Moon Goddess had granted me a second chance at life, I would not walk into the same grave again. I would take my revenge on Bret and Byron, avenge my family, and protect Casimer Beaumont.

Turning my eyes past Casimer's broad shoulders, I stared at the closed carved wooden door, my stomach twisting with hatred.

Right outside that door stood my betrothed, Bret Holland, the heir to the Holland Pack. He had knelt before the Alpha King to beg for our Mate Decree, pretending to love me deeply, while secretly keeping a human woman named Grecia Banks in a brothel called The Velvet Den.

Casimer's heavy breath scorched the hollow of my neck, his skin burning with an unnatural fever.

Forcing down my fear, I looked closely at his face. His deep blue eyes had lost all focus, filled only with wild, beastly madness as sweat dripped from his sharp jawline onto my collarbone.

He had been drugged with a brutal heat elixir. It was a double trap set by Bret and the Eldest Prince, Byron Beaumont. They wanted to catch me in bed with the drugged Crown Prince to destroy my honor, control the Sinclair Pack's military power, and strip Casimer of his title all at once.

Soft footsteps padded across the thick carpet outside the corridor, coming closer by the second.

My sharp werewolf hearing caught Bret's lowered voice outside.

"Is everyone in position? Break the door down on my signal."

That familiar, fake voice made my stomach churn violently, and I dug my fingernails deep into my palms.

Stimulated by the voices outside, Casimer let out a low growl from deep in his chest, his movements turning rougher.

His feverish mouth trailed down the column of my throat, each clumsy, burning kiss leaving a wet trail that cooled in the candlelit air and raised goosebumps along my skin.

The loud rip of silk echoed through the quiet room, making my heart leap into my throat.

I twisted my body desperately beneath his weight.

"Casimer! Wake up! This is a trap!"

My voice was swallowed by his ragged breathing. Even as the highborn daughter of the Sinclair Pack Alpha, I could not overpower a top-tier Alpha who had lost his mind to a heat drug.

His large hand gripped the back of my head, forcing my chin up and exposing the fragile pulse of my neck.

I felt the sharp points of his canines graze my skin-and then, through the haze of the drug, something flickered in his eyes. A fractured, desperate resistance, as if some buried part of him was clawing to the surface, fighting the poison in his blood. His lips parted against my throat, and a broken whisper escaped him. "Forgive me... I can't-" His voice cracked, and his grip on my wrists loosened, trembling, as though he was using the last of his strength to hold himself back.

By ancient werewolf law, once a male wolf sank his teeth into a female's neck to leave a permanent mark, an irreversible bond was forged, and a disgraced royal marking here would destroy the Sinclair Pack forever.

The footsteps outside stopped right at the door, and the murmuring voices beyond it gradually fell silent.

With no time left, I stopped struggling. My eyes turned cold as I lifted my chin-not to resist him, but to press my mouth directly against his burning lips, swallowing his broken apology.