My Alpha Married His Lover and Made Me Serve Her

The moonlight filtered through the ancient ferns as I knelt beside the fallen wolf, my heart hammering against my ribs. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be seeing this.

"Snowball," I whispered to my fox companion, who circled nervously around me. "What do you think?"

My fox's amber eyes reflected the moonlight as he sniffed the massive silver-gray wolf lying motionless in the undergrowth. The creature's chest rose and fell in shallow, labored breaths. Blood matted his fur—too much blood.

"He's dying," I murmured, my fingers hovering over the wolf's flank.

I'd come to the clearing to gather moon-blooming herbs for my healing poultices. The last thing I expected was to find a transformed werewolf in my sanctuary. In all my twenty-three years living in these forests, I'd successfully avoided detection by keeping to myself, healing only the animals who found their way to my cabin.

But this wolf... there was something about him that called to me.

"Please," I begged the moon above. "Just one drop."

I knew the risk. My blood wasn't just any blood—it was ancient, powerful, and if discovered, could bring hunters to my door. But I couldn't let him die.

With trembling fingers, I drew my small silver knife across my palm. The cut stung, but the pain was worth it when my blood began to glow with a faint blue light. I mixed it quickly with crushed moon-blooming petals and pressed the poultice to the wolf's chest wound.

"Live," I commanded, my voice stronger than I felt.

The effect was immediate. The wolf's body convulsed once, then his breathing steadied. A low whine escaped his muzzle, and his eyes—silver with flecks of amber—fluttered open briefly before closing again.

"You're welcome," I whispered, wrapping my cloak around his massive form. "Now let's get you somewhere safe."

* * *

Two weeks passed in a blur of care and conversation. The wolf had transformed back into a man three days after I'd found him—a devastatingly handsome man with haunted eyes who called himself Knox Crawford.

"Freya," he said my name like a prayer as I changed the bandages on his chest. "You saved me."

I shrugged, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickened when he looked at me. "Anyone would have done the same."

"No." His fingers caught mine, warm and strong despite his weakened state. "No one else could have saved me. Your blood... it's not normal."

I froze. "What do you mean?"

"I felt it." His eyes held mine, intense and searching. "It's ancient, powerful. It healed more than just my wounds."

The air between us charged with something electric as he reached up to touch my face. I should have pulled away, but I couldn't.

"I'm cursed," he confessed later that night as we sat by the fire. "A genetic condition that weakens my wolf form. I've been searching for a cure for years."

Without thinking, I took his hand. "Let me help you."

Under the full moon, I performed the ancient