Emilia Taylor was the most unwanted daughter of the Frostridge Pack.
She had no wolf, no status, and no one who truly loved her. After failing to awaken at the age of twenty-two, she was betrayed by her lover, abandoned by her family, and finally sent by her father to the Silver Moon Pack-to become Sebastian Simons’ seventh bride.
Sebastian was the Alpha everyone feared.
Rumor had it that none of his first six wives had met a good end, and every woman who married him eventually became another name on the list of the dead.
Everyone was waiting for Emilia to die.
But they did not know that her failed awakening had not left her with nothing. Instead, she had gained the ability to read minds. She could hear the malice and lies hidden behind every smile.
Everyone’s thoughts were open to her.
Except Sebastian’s.
She could not hear his mind, nor could she see through his secrets.
When a wolfless girl abandoned by everyone meets a cold-blooded Alpha haunted by the mystery of six dead wives, will she become his next victim-or the only one who can break the curse?
Chosen as the Cursed Alpha’s Seventh Bride Chapter 1
Wolfless But Mind Reader
Emilia’s POV
For a very long time, I had believed that pain was something a person could grow used to, the same way one grew used to winter wind slipping through cracked windows or old scars aching before rain.
In the Frostridge pack, I was not simply disliked. I was considered an error that had somehow survived birth.
My father was Alpha Henry, but being his daughter had never protected me, because my mother had been a witch, and in a pack that worshiped pure wolf blood above almost everything else, my mixed blood became a crime no one needed to prove before punishing me for it.
When I was younger, I used to wonder if they would have treated me differently if my wolf had awakened early, if I had shifted beneath the moon like every other Alpha-blooded child was expected to do, if my claws had been sharp enough and my howl loud enough to make them forget the witch half of me.
But year after year, nothing came.
Hybrid.
Bastard.
Curse.
The words followed me through the halls of the pack house, across the training field. My stepsister Linda was even better at it; she never needed to raise her hand when she could turn an entire room against me with one sweet, pitying glance.
By the time I turned twenty-two, I had already learned how to lower my eyes when elders looked at me with disgust, how to ignore the servants who whispered that I was cursed, and how to pretend my stepmother Dorothy’s gentle smile did not hurt more than open cruelty because it always came before she reminded me, in the softest possible voice, that I should be grateful the pack still allowed me to stay.
The only reason I had not completely collapsed under all of it was Brandon Cole.
He had been my hope for so long that I no longer knew how to separate him from the idea of survival itself.
Brandon was the strongest young warrior in our pack, handsome, admired, and respected in a way I had never been.
“When she comes, Emmy,” he used to whisper, brushing his lips over my scars as if they were something precious instead of proof of every punishment I had endured, “everyone who looked down on you will regret it.”
So I waited.
I waited through my eighteenth birthday, when most wolves shifted for the first time and I felt nothing but silence beneath my skin. I waited through nineteen, twenty, and twenty-one, while the pack’s disappointment hardened into mockery and my father’s eyes grew colder each time he looked at me. I waited until my twenty-second birthday, the final night a werewolf could still awaken before being declared permanently defective.
Tonight was my last chance.
Under the full moon, surrounded by wolves who had gathered less to witness my awakening than to enjoy my final failure, I stood barefoot in the ritual circle and forced myself not to tremble. The silver bowl before me reflected the moonlight, the elder’s chant rose and fell like distant thunder, and somewhere beyond the crowd, Brandon watched me with an expression I wanted desperately to believe was love.
Then the ritual ended.
Nothing happened.
A few wolves laughed.
My stepmother sighed as if my failure had personally inconvenienced her, Linda lowered her eyes to hide the smile pulling at her lips, and my father turned away before the elder even announced what everyone already knew.
That would be the worst pain of the night.
But I was wrong.
As I stepped out of the ritual circle, something sharp split through my skull, and a flood of voices crashed into me all at once.
[What a waste of moonlight.]
[I knew she wouldn’t shift.]
[Brandon must be tired of pretending by now.]
I froze.
No one’s mouth had moved.
The wolves around me were still laughing, whispering, staring, but beneath their spoken words came another layer of sound-clearer, uglier, impossible to ignore.
Their thoughts.
Panic tightened around my throat as I stumbled back, pressing a hand against my temple while the pack’s hidden cruelty poured into me without mercy. Every smile had a second voice. Every pitying glance carried a knife. They had hated me more deeply than I had ever allowed myself to imagine.
I needed Brandon.
I needed the one person who had always made the noise of the pack feel far away.
But as I pushed through the crowd, desperate to find him, a maid passed close enough for her thoughts to slice through the chaos.
[Brandon followed Linda into her room again. Goddess, I swear, if I have to wait for them to finish and then scrub another set of destroyed sheets, I’m going to lose it.]
My body stopped moving.
For one heartbeat, the entire world went silent.
Then my blood turned cold.
I grabbed the maid’s wrist so hard she cried out.
“What did you say?”
Her eyes widened in terror. “Miss Emilia, I didn’t say anything.”
She was telling the truth.
Her lips had not moved.
But I had heard her.
A terrible numbness spread through me as I released the maid and turned toward the pack house. I did not remember crossing the courtyard, climbing the stairs, or passing the servants who stepped out of my way with startled faces and guilty minds. I only remembered the pounding of my heart and the foolish, desperate prayer repeating inside me.
Please be wrong.
Please let this be the one thought I misunderstood.
Please let him still be mine.
When I reached Linda’s door, I already knew.
I pushed the door open.
The scene before me was worse than any nightmare.
The bed creaked rhythmically, obscene sounds spilling.
Brandon-my Brandon-was naked, his body moving over someone sprawled beneath him on the bed. Linda’s long legs wrapped around his waist, her nails raking down his back as she moaned his name.
My sister. My boyfriend.
In that moment, I didn’t feel pain. I felt nothing. Just a hollow, echoing void where my heart should have been.
Then their thoughts crashed into my mind like broken glass.
[God, she’s so much better than Emilia. Tighter. More responsive. How did I waste many years on that frigid wolfless bitch?] Brandon’s voice, clear in my head even as his mouth was occupied elsewhere.
[Look at her standing there like a pathetic little ghost. Does she really think Brandon ever loved her? Please. He’s been mine since the day I decided I wanted him.] Linda’s thoughts dripped with venom and smug satisfaction.
The numbness shattered.
Rage-pure, incandescent fury-flooded through me.
I grabbed the vase from the dresser near the door and hurled it at the wall beside the bed. It exploded with a satisfying crash.
They jerked apart, Linda screaming, Brandon scrambling to cover himself.
“Emilia!” Brandon’s face went white. “This isn’t-I can explain-“
“Explain?” My voice came out low and deadly calm. “Explain how you’ve been fucking my sister for three months while telling me you loved me?”
His jaw dropped. “How did you-“
“Does it matter?” I stepped into the room, my hands clenched into fists.
Linda sat up, not bothering to cover herself, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “Oh, please. Don’t act so surprised, Emilia. Did you really think someone like Brandon would settle for a wolfless freak like you?”
[She’s even more pathetic than I thought. Look at her, about to cry. This is delicious.]
I moved before I could think. My hand connected with Brandon’s cheek with a crack that echoed through the room.
Chosen as the Cursed Alpha’s Seventh Bride Chapter 2
Sent to the Demon
Emilia’s POV
Brandon staggered back, hand flying to his reddening face. “What the fuck-“
The second slap hit even harder.
“That’s for lying to me for a year,” I said, my voice shaking with fury. “For making me believe you cared about me. For being a fucking coward who couldn’t even break up with me before shoving your dick into my sister.”
“You crazy bitch!” Brandon lunged toward me, but I was already moving.
I grabbed Linda’s designer purse from the nightstand and flung it at his head. It connected with a satisfying thud.
“We’re done,” I said coldly. “Don’t ever speak to me again. Don’t look at me. Don’t even breathe in my direction. You disgust me.”
I turned to Linda, whose smirk had finally faltered.
“And you. Congratulations. You’ve won the grand prize-a cheating coward with a small dick and no future. I hope you’re very happy together.”
I didn’t wait for a response. I spun on my heel and walked out, slamming the door behind me hard enough to rattle the frame.
My father’s office was on the first floor. I stormed through the hallways, ignoring the curious stares of lingering guests, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I didn’t bother knocking. I shoved the door open.
Alpha Henry sat behind his desk, Dorothy perched on the edge beside him. They both looked up, startled.
“Emilia,” my father began. “What are you-“
“Did you know?” I demanded, my voice raw from everything I had just swallowed and everything I could no longer pretend not to understand. “Did you know Brandon was cheating on me with Linda?”
Alpha Henry only leaned back in his chair and looked at me with the tired impatience.
“Sit down, Emilia.”
“No.”
My answer was sharper than I expected, and the silence that followed made Dorothy lift her brows.
“Did you know?” I asked again.
This time, my father did not bother to lie.
“Yes.”
The word hit harder than finding Brandon in Linda’s bed.
“You knew,” I whispered.
“Brandon is a talented warrior,” my father said coldly, as if that explained everything. “He is one of the most promising wolves in this generation, and the pack has invested too much in him to waste his future on sentiment.”
For a moment, I could only stare at him, because I had come into this room expecting anger, perhaps even disappointment, but not this calm, practical cruelty that treated my heartbreak as nothing more than poor strategy.
Then he said the thing he had clearly been waiting to say.
“You failed your Awakening.”
The room went still.
“You were given twenty-two years, Emilia,” he continued, his voice hardening with each word. “and yet after all that time, you are still standing here exactly as you began.”
[Wolfless.]
[Useless.]
[Unwanted.]
He did not need to say the words aloud.
I heard them anyway.
“So that’s it?” I asked, my throat tightening around the question. “Because I didn’t shift, Brandon gets to betray me, Linda gets to humiliate me, and you get to pretend none of it matters?”
“Linda has a wolf,” Henry snapped. “Linda has value. Brandon needs a mate who can stand beside him, bear strong heirs, and strengthen this pack. Not you.”
“If I was such a disappointment,” I said slowly, “then why did you have me at all?”
His expression changed. “Watch your tone.”
“No,” I said, and once the word left me, everything I had buried for years began to rise with it. “If you hated my mother so much, why chose her? If you hated what I was, why let me live here for twenty-two years begging for scraps of approval you never planned to give me?”
Dorothy’s face cooled. “That is enough.”
Henry slammed his hand against the desk. The sound cracked through the office.
“I chose this pack.”
That was when I saw the black envelope.
Dorothy picked it up from the desk with graceful fingers and placed it where I could see the silver wax seal pressed into the paper.
The Simons crest.
My blood turned cold before she even spoke.
“Linda received an invitation from the Simons family,” Dorothy said gently, and the sweetness in her voice made my stomach twist. “But after discussing it carefully, your father and I have decided that you will attend in her place.”
For a few seconds, I could not make sense of the words, because the Simons family was not merely powerful or wealthy; they were feared, whispered about, avoided by every family with daughters old enough to marry.
And Alpha Sebastian Simons was the worst of them.
Six brides.
Six funerals.
“You want me to replace Linda,” I said, each word colder than the last, “because you’re afraid he will kill her.”
“No one said that,” Dorothy replied.
But my father’s thoughts moved through my mind with brutal clarity.
[Linda is too valuable to risk.]
“It is a duty,” my father corrected. “The Simons alliance can save Frostridge pack.”
“And if I die?”
Neither of them answered.
They did not need to.
My father’s thoughts answered for them.
[If she dies, we lose nothing.]
For a moment, the office seemed to disappear around me, and all I could feel was the horrible clarity of finally knowing my place in this family, not as a daughter, not even as a shame they wished to hide, but as a body they could send into danger because no one would mourn the loss.
I stepped back.
“No.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed. “Emilia.”
“No,” I repeated, louder this time. “I won’t go.”
His Alpha aura filled the room, heavy enough to press against my bones. “You have spent your entire life receiving this pack’s mercy. Now you will repay it.”
“Mercy?” I laughed, though my chest felt like it was breaking open. “You call this mercy?”
“I call it obedience.”
Then he looked past me.
“Guards.”
The door opened before I could reach it, and two warriors seized my arms from behind with enough force to make pain shoot through my shoulders.
I kicked, twisted, screamed, and when one of them dragged me backward, I sank my teeth into his wrist with every bit of rage I had left.
He cursed, his grip loosened.
For one wild second, I was free.
Then something slammed into the back of my head.
Pain burst white behind my eyes, the floor tilted beneath me, and as darkness began to drag me under, I heard my father’s thoughts one last time, calm and relieved in a way his voice had never been.
[Finally.]
[That problem is taken care of.]
The dark closed in.
And in the last fading corner of my mind, I understood.
No one in Frostridge pack expected me to survive.
They had already abandoned me to death.
Chosen as the Cursed Alpha’s Seventh Bride Chapter 3
Bride Selection
Emilia’s POV
The scent of roses and expensive perfume hit me first.
My eyes fluttered open to find myself staring at an ornate ceiling with intricate moldings. The bed beneath me was obscenely soft.
Where the hell was I?
I sat up too quickly. My head spun, the sedative still clinging to my system. The room around me was massive-easily twice the size of my bedroom back at the Frostridge pack house. Everything screamed wealth: silk curtains, marble floors, a chandelier that looked like it belonged in a palace.
Then I caught sight of myself in the full-length mirror across the room.
They’d dressed me up like a doll.
My hair cascaded down my back in soft waves, and my makeup highlighted my best features. My eyes looked deeper, my lips fuller, and my reflection almost felt unfamiliar.
The navy silk dress fit me perfectly, elegant and flattering, making it impossible to look away.
I looked gorgeous.
I looked like a bride being prepared for slaughter.
Of course they made me pretty. Can’t send damaged goods to the devil himself.
My father had held that elaborate birthday ceremony not out of love, but as a public display-proof that he’d treated both daughters equally. Then he could ship me off to Sebastian Simons with a clear conscience, his reputation intact.
Linda got Brandon. I got a death sentence.
He’d probably started planning this the moment my wolf failed to emerge.
A sharp knock at the door.
“Miss Taylor?” A woman’s voice. “Alpha Sebastian’s selection will begin shortly. Please follow me.”
My stomach dropped. This was really happening.
I opened the door to find a middle-aged woman in a black uniform. She looked me up and down with cold assessment.
The Frostridge pack must really be desperate, her thoughts hit me. Sending a wolfless embarrassment to Alpha Sebastian. Do they think we’re idiots?
The malice in her thoughts made my jaw clench. But I kept my expression calm, following her down a hallway that seemed to stretch forever.
The mansion was even more impressive than my room suggested-a sprawling estate that mixed modern luxury with old-world elegance. We passed floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking manicured gardens, walls lined with what I suspected were original Renaissance paintings.
As we walked through the double doors, the noise hit me.
Not sound-thoughts.
Dozens of them, all at once, crashing into my mind like a tidal wave.
I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. Marrying a notorious demon. My life is over.
He might be violent, but his marriages never last long. Two months tops, then divorce. But that severance package… eighteen million dollars and the status of being a Simons? Worth the risk.
Oh God, she’s gorgeous. If that wolfless bitch gets chosen instead of me, I swear I’ll-
My father’s going to kill me if I don’t get selected. The pack needs this alliance. I have to make him notice me.
The thoughts overlapped, tangled, multiplied. It felt like a thousand bees had nested inside my skull, their buzzing growing louder and louder until I couldn’t tell where one thought ended and another began.
My vision blurred. The hallway tilted.
I pressed a hand against the wall, trying to steady myself, but the thoughts kept coming, relentless and overwhelming.
Why is she touching the wall? Is she going to faint? Pathetic.
The guide’s thoughts cut through the chaos, sharp with disdain.
“Miss Taylor?” Her voice sounded distant, underwater. “Are you quite alright?”
I couldn’t answer. My throat had closed. My lungs refused to expand. The edges of my vision darkened as panic clawed up my chest.
*Breathe, *I commanded myself desperately. Just breathe.
But the voices in my head wouldn’t stop. They grew louder, angrier, more frantic.
A waiting area, with at least thirty women, all dressed to perfection, all wearing varying expressions of fear and determination.
The receiving room doors burst open.
A woman stumbled out, makeup streaked down her face, shoulders shaking with sobs. As she rushed past me, her thoughts slammed into mine with devastating clarity.
I’ve never met such a cruel, heartless Alpha in my life. The way he looked at me-like I was dirt. Like I was nothing. God, I just want to go home. I want to disappear. I want-
She was gone before I could process it, but two more women followed in quick succession, each one crying, each one broadcasting their terror and humiliation directly into my brain.
Monster. He’s a monster.
Those eyes. Those cold, empty eyes. Like a predator deciding whether to kill you now or later.
I’m not pretty enough. I’m not smart enough. I’ll never be enough for someone like him.
I doubled over, pressing my palms against my temples, trying desperately to shut them out. But I couldn’t. The ability was too new, too raw. I had no control.
“Miss Taylor!” The guide’s hand gripped my elbow, steadying me. “You’re next. Pull yourself together.”
I forced my head up, blinking away the spots dancing across my vision.
Two guards flanked the entrance, massive wolves who watched me with undisguised contempt.
*Run, *every instinct screamed. Run now while you still can.
But I’d seen the guards. I’d seen how the estate was locked down tighter than a prison. Even if I made it past them, where would I go? Back to a father who’d drugged and sold me? Back to a sister who’d stolen my boyfriend and laughed about it?
I had nowhere to run. No one to save me.
So I did the only thing I could.
I straightened my spine, lifted my chin, and walked through those doors like I had a choice in any of this.
The receiving room was enormous. But despite its size, the air felt suffocating, pressing down on me from all sides.
And then I saw him.
Sebastian Simons sat in the center of the room on a leather sofa that looked more like a throne. Even seated, his presence dominated the space. Tall. Powerfully built. He radiated the kind of authority that made people instinctively want to kneel.
Dark hair. High cheekbones. A straight nose. Every feature sharp and defined.
His eyes… Green. Piercing. Intense and unforgiving.
Those eyes locked onto mine.
And suddenly, the world went silent.
All the voices-the screaming, buzzing chaos that had been tearing my mind apart-vanished in an instant.
I couldn’t hear his thoughts. Couldn’t sense anything from him except… presence. Weight. Power.
It was the most peaceful silence I’d experienced since this cursed ability had awakened.
And this peace, ironically, came from the very man most likely to kill me.
