I Chose My Omega Protector Over My Cruel Alpha Mate

I woke up alone in the guest room of the Alpha suite. Again.

Seven years. Seven failed ceremonies. And here I was, preparing for the eighth like some kind of masochist who couldn't take a hint.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting everything in shades of gold that felt like a cruel joke. My fingers found my grandmother's moon-blessed amulet, the cool metal pressing against my palm. It was the only thing I had left of her, the only thing that made me feel like I belonged to something bigger than this mess.

"Miss Hayes."

I turned to find Eren in the corner, polishing his boots with that quiet efficiency he brought to everything. My bodyguard for the past ten years, assigned to me when I was just a kid. He never spoke unless necessary, never overstepped. But right now, his golden eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that made my breath catch.

"You look like a queen," he said softly.

The words hung in the air between us. I wanted to laugh, to tell him that queens didn't get stood up seven times by their own mates. But something in his voice stopped me. It sounded like a promise.

"Thanks, Eren." My voice came out smaller than I intended.

The pack's sacred altar stood at the heart of our territory, surrounded by ancient oaks that had witnessed countless matings. The entire Black Moon Pack gathered in a semicircle, their excited chatter filling the air. I stood at the altar in my white ceremonial dress, hands clasped in front of me to hide their shaking.

The elder, Marcus Carr—Weston's father and our current Alpha—stood beside me with the ceremonial bowl. His expression was carefully neutral, but I'd seen the disappointment in his eyes often enough to recognize it even when he tried to hide it.

Minutes ticked by. The chatter grew quieter, more awkward.

Then I heard it. Laughter. Her laughter.

Weston appeared at the edge of the clearing with Lilian Ramirez clinging to his arm like a vine. She wore a dress the color of fresh blood, cut low enough to make several pack members avert their eyes. Weston's hair was messed up, his shirt wrinkled.

They were late. To our mating ceremony. Again.

Something cold settled in my chest, but I forced a smile. Maybe this time would be different. Maybe—

"Apologies, Father," Weston said, not sounding apologetic at all. "Lilian needed help with... a situation."

Lilian giggled, pressing closer to him. The sound grated against my ears like nails on a chalkboard.

Marcus cleared his throat. "Let us begin. Weston, the rings."

Weston patted his pockets, frowning. "I gave them to Lilian for safekeeping."

Every eye turned to her. She bit her lip, trying to look innocent and failing spectacularly. "Oh, Weston, I'm so sorry. I wanted to make things more... fun." She lifted the hem of her dress, revealing her upper thigh. "I tied them here. You know, as a little game