Her Cursed Alpha Mate

ALMOND They say you never truly understand the pain of love until you've experienced the betrayal of a two-faced monster. As I stood there, my gaze fixed, my heart struggled to accept what seemed painfully obvious. I couldn't bring myself to believe that the person I loved so deeply could feel anything less than what I felt. Now, he despises me. That must be the only explanation. That must be the reason for what I was experiencing in front of me. A tear trickled down my cheek as I watched him handle her with care, his hands positioning her perfectly. She appeared so small next to him, her slender figure overshadowed by his presence. Her long, black hair covered half of her face, while his huge c**k was still stuck inside her. His butts in full view. Every detail burned into my mind, his betrayal laid bare. She arched her back well to let him fully in. Beads of sweat rolled down his broad chest as he leaned in to cup her left breast with his palm. She released a soft moan, her body shook from the pleasure. She called out his name as he kept thrusting inside her. “Scream my name, baby!” Logan ordered, his hand leaving her breast to clutch onto her hair, pulling it back with force, causing her body to follow. She screamed his name again as she rolled her eyes. Her boobs bounced with every thrust. “Lo…gan…” She moaned softly. I heard him let out a groan, his second hand gripping her neck, clutching hard at it. f*****g her with all rawness. The second of each thrust echoed loudly in my head. More tears blurred my vision as they cascaded down my cheeks. The ache in my heart surpassed any pain I had ever experienced before. My legs grew weak, causing my body to tremble uncontrollably. Bringing my right palm closer to my mouth, I hoped to stifle the scream that threatened to escape my throat. "Logan!" I called out, but my voice emerged as nothing more than a whisper, overshadowed by her moans. With each passing second that transformed into minutes, my heart grew heavier. Each thrust he drove inside her felt like a pounding reminder of my insignificance. "Logan!" I pleaded once more, desperately wanting to believe that he didn't hear me the first time I called out his name. My voice emerged as a mere murmur, my throat burning with pain. I observed as his gaze briefly met mine, only to quickly divert it back to her behind. His eyes were cold, void of any emotion. He showed no signs of flinching, nor did he attempt to conceal his intoxicated state. He continued to f**k her, completely disregarding my presence. I clung to the belief that perhaps he hadn't noticed me yet. It was the only explanation that made sense, or at least, the one I desperately clung to. My Logan would never do this, at least not to me. He loved me, always had, and always will. Those were his exact words, the exact same words he said to me on the day of our inauguration as the Luna and Alpha of the Silver Stone pack. This had to be the same Logan, right? Maybe he was just drunk or something? That's what I wanted to believe. I continued to force my heart to believe that as the pain within it blossomed immensely. I held my breath, but every inhale only made my heart shatter even more. The pain I felt became worse, like needles piercing through every part of my body. My wobbly legs finally gave in, and I landed harshly against the tilted floor. The room was filled with our memories, our escapades. The tears I tried to hold in came out with all their force. "Logan!" I cried out, my voice filled with a mix of confusion and agony. How did my mate, the one I had learned to love, go from being the person I knew to this? I first met Logan during the night of the moon goddess festival after my numerous failed attempts to find my mate. I was on the verge of giving up and retreating to my room for another lonely hour when he walked up and settled beside me. It came as a shock when my Wolf announced him as my mate because I had known him all my life. We had met numerous times before, and I had felt nothing but that night, everything changed. At that moment, everything felt exciting and alive. It was beautiful. It was as if the moon goddess had finally decided to shine her bright light on me. I felt complete, whole. We clicked so well. I could hear his wolf growl, and I knew he accepted me as his mate. The fear of rejection had always consumed me, and I prayed to the moon goddess to save me from that trouble. I was immensely glad that she did. The night ended with a kiss, and it felt like he was the best thing that could ever happen to me. Even though I knew about his past with other she-wolves, I refused to let it bother me. I was his now, and he was mine. Even as worries started to seep in, the fear of not being enough for him, that he would always go after other she-wolves and leave me. I shook my head each time the thoughts crept in and I always pushed them aside. I told myself to stop overthinking because he had changed. He had changed for me. For his mate. Logan would show up at my doorsteps with flowers and a bright smile. Every time I opened the door, he would pull me into a tight embrace, showering me with kisses on my face. He never failed to tell me how gorgeous I looked, even at my worst. How could I forget how he professed his love to me during our walks through the central kingdom? Or how he got down on one knee, asking me to be his forever? And the way he looked at me during our mating ceremony, as if I was the center of his universe. Let me not forget the words he spoke, about wanting to spend every night with me in his arms and waking up to see my beautiful face every day. Those were his words, not mine. Now, tell me, how did that Logan become so cold? The man who couldn't stand seeing me shed a tear didn't even spare me a glance when I cried a river. How did all this happen? How did he go from being my dream mate to becoming my nightmare? I wondered, agonizing sobs escaping from my dry lips. He went from being the mate who made my heart beat to the mate who made it ache. More tears rolled down my cheeks. I wanted to keep fighting against it, even though I knew it was all in the past. I didn't want to believe that the beautiful memories we once shared were nothing but pure fantasy. That my mate died. The one I fell deeply in love with. The one who professed his love for me. I held onto hope that he would change, thinking he was just going through a rough patch when he started treating me with hostility after our ceremony. He began complaining about the meals I cooked, the way I dressed, and even the color of my hair—things I had no control over. Despite it all, I chose to overlook his behavior because of my love for him. He meant the world to me, and I dreaded the thought of being alone again. Gradually, I convinced myself that I was the problem. I believed I was the reason behind his constant dissatisfaction, so I started changing everything about myself in an attempt to please him. I dyed my hair in different colors and completely transformed my wardrobe. I tried to meet his preferences by acquiring almost everything. I even dedicated myself to learning new cooking skills. But did any of it make a difference? No, not at all. He still found ways to mock and belittle me, criticizing everything I did. He made me feel ridiculous in the dresses I wore and constantly compared me to his mistresses. He treated me with disrespect, spitting on me and throwing meals my way. Countless times, he hurt me. Each night, I cried myself to sleep, consumed by self-hatred and despair. And even now, I still do. I despise myself, because despite all the pain he caused me, I couldn't let go of my love for him. Even when he betrayed me by cheating on me in our own marital bed, I convinced myself that I could forgive him and move past it. But for how long? I questioned myself, tears continuing to stream down my face. How much longer could I pretend that everything was fine? How much longer could I ignore the pain and continue to please him, even though it shattered me to the core? The she-wolf's moans reverberated through the air, its sound piercing the walls, carrying the news of my husband's infidelity to everyone within earshot. A wave of shame, betrayal, and devastation washed over me, leaving me feeling used, broken, and consumed by anger. I had been nothing more than a pawn in his grand plan to obtain the crown. Although I had discovered the truth a while ago, I couldn't muster the strength to walk away. Despite knowing it was all a scheme, I clung desperately to the hope that there was some genuineness to our relationship. That he, at least, was real. But that hope had faded. From this moment on, I vowed not to endure another insult hurled my way. Even if it meant jeopardizing my sanity, I knew it was a step I had to take. Gripping onto the nearest table, I struggled to stand, my legs weakened by the weight of my emotions. Tears continued to stream down my face. "I Almond Lyall reject you, Logan Maxwell, as my mate," my voice trembled, quivering with each word. "I reject... you with every fibre of my being. I wish... I wish I had never crossed paths with you. I regret the day I... I confessed my love for you," I stuttered, the weight of my words rolling off my tongue. It felt burdensome. My tongue, the words, my entire body—everything felt heavy. I wiped my teary eyes with the back of my hand, but the tears persisted. "I despise you, Logan Maxwell," I declared. Words I never thought I would utter. He smirked and withdrew his c**k from the omega before rising from the bed, his footsteps echoing in the room. I mustered the strength to stand despite the searing pain coursing through my body, anticipating his response. I had hoped he would reject me, yet nothing prepared me for the shock of his actions. His hands clenched tightly around my neck, depriving me of air and choking the life out of me. Desperately, I fought to break free from his suffocating grip. "I will have you killed before you think you can reject me," he roared, forcefully slamming me against the wall. Darkness quickly enveloped me, and that was the last thing I remembered.