Betrayed By My Husband, Craved By The Alpha King

Elara Hayes POV:

In the glittering hotel ballroom, my husband Garrett Miller laughed. He threw his head back, a perfect picture of charm, as he schmoozed with some business associate. He hadn't looked at me once in the last hour.

The stem of the champagne flute was slick and cold against my fingers. I tightened my grip, the crystal groaning in protest. My knuckles were white.

This was our third wedding anniversary. It was also the third annual Pack summit where I served as little more than a decoration he'd brought along.

A whisper, sharp and venomous, slithered past my ear. "Look, the wolfless is being ignored by her Alpha again."

"Pathetic," another voice chimed in. "A perfect Alpha would never treat his mate that way. But then, she's not a real mate, is she? Just a piece of furniture."

The laughter that followed was like acid. A hot flush crawled up my neck, burning my cheeks. I tipped the flute back, the champagne a bitter trail down my throat. The burn in my stomach was a welcome distraction from the humiliation coiling in my gut.

I needed air.

Turning my back on the shimmering crowd, I pushed open the heavy glass doors to the terrace. The cool night air was a relief against my hot skin, clearing some of the alcoholic haze. I leaned against the cold marble balustrade, the city lights a blur below. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I refused to let them fall.

I pulled out my phone. The screen lit up with a photo of Garrett and me, taken just before our bonding ceremony three years ago. I had just graduated from law school with honors back then. I gave up offers from top firms to be with him and took a legal position at his company. I agreed to it all because, at that time, the way he looked at me seemed like love. I let out a dry, humorless laugh. What a fool I'd been.

Another glass of champagne, snatched from a passing waiter's tray, went down just as quickly as the first. My vision swam.

A tall, broad-shouldered figure stood at the far end of the terrace, his back to me. The silhouette was so familiar it made my heart ache. Garrett?

The alcohol and the raw wound in my chest made me reckless. I stumbled toward him, needing a hug, a crumb of comfort, anything.

I approached him from behind and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my face into the expensive fabric of his suit jacket. I inhaled, expecting Garrett's familiar scent, but found something else. Something clean and cold, like snow and cedar.

He didn't move. I thought this meant he was accepting my embrace, and a flicker of joy sparked in my chest.

"Garrett," I whispered, my voice thick. "I'm so sad."

His body went rigid. Instantly. This wasn't Garrett's reaction. A wave of power, immense and suffocating, rolled off him, making the air crackle with strangeness.

He turned slowly. My blurry gaze met a pair of ice-gray eyes. There was no warmth in them, only a cool, assessing curiosity.

I was terrified. This wasn't Garrett.

I recognized him from the opening ceremony tonight-the man they whispered about in awe and fear. Aiden Beaumont. The Alpha King.

Panic seized me. I tried to pull my hands back, but his fingers, strong and unyielding, clamped around my wrist like a steel trap. His voice was a low, resonant rumble, like the deepest note of a cello.

"You've been holding on," he murmured, bringing his lips close to mine, a cruel amusement in his tone. "Is this how you betray your husband, Mrs. Miller?"

His words were a bucket of ice water, extinguishing the drunken haze and leaving me sober and raw. I pushed him away roughly. Humiliation burned through me, hot and sharp. I couldn't form a single word in my defense.

"You embrace me first, and then you push me away, hmm?" he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "A wolfless who offers herself up to the first stranger, and a man who deceives his own mate. You're a perfect match."

"What do you mean?" I realized he was talking about Garrett in the second half of his sentence. "What deception?"

"It seems you don't know yet, Mrs. Miller. How pitiful." He let out a contemptuous laugh. "From the main hall, take the left corridor, room 1012. Go. You're welcome."

He turned and melted back into the shadows, leaving me frozen.

The phantom touch of his lips still tingled on mine, but it was drowned out by the sting of his insult. I took a shaky breath, smoothed down my dress, and decided to go to the room he had mentioned. I needed to find out what he was hinting at.

The corridor was quiet, away from the main hall. From a corner up ahead, I heard a muffled gasp and the rustle of fabric.

That room, 1012, its door was not fully closed.

A familiar scent drifted towards me-the sweet perfume my friend Leah Foster always wore.

I didn't know Leah was here tonight. Curiosity pulled me forward. I crept up and peered through the crack in the door.

But what I saw was like a horror scene.

Garrett had Leah pinned against the wall, his hands roaming her body while their mouths were locked in a desperate, hungry kiss. Her arms were wrapped tightly around my husband's neck, a soft moan of pleasure escaping her lips.

It was a passion I had never, not once in three years of marriage, received from him.

My hand flew to my mouth, stifling the scream that clawed its way up my throat. My heart felt like it was being crushed by an invisible fist, the pain so intense I couldn't breathe.

So tonight, while he was busy networking, he still found time to be with my friend. Yet he couldn't spare a single moment for me.

Aiden's mocking words echoed in my head. Is this how you betray your husband?

How ironic. I hadn't actually betrayed Garrett, but he had truly betrayed our bond.

I didn't scream. I didn't rush forward. I made myself think like a law student and forced myself to stay calm.

I knew I needed evidence, so I could gain the upper hand when it came time to dissolve this mate bond in the future.

I pulled out my phone, aimed the camera at the dark corner, and pressed record.

The tangled figures on the screen were the ultimate mockery of my three-year marriage. A tear slid silently down my cheek, and I didn't even realize it until I tasted the salt on my lips. I pretended to be strong, but the truth hurt that much.

A minute later, I quietly put the phone away and turned, a ghost slipping away unseen.

I walked quickly, then ran, through the long, opulent hallways, desperate to escape this disgusting place. I burst through the back door of the hotel, the cold night wind a brutal shock against my tear-streaked face.

I ran into the garden. A figure was standing there.

Elara Hayes POV:

A pair of immaculate, custom-made leather shoes appeared in my line of sight. A shadow fell over me, blocking out the moonlight.

I didn't need to look up. I knew that scent-cold, dominant, and laced with cedar.

Alpha King Aiden Beaumont.

"How pathetic," he said, his voice devoid of sympathy. He was looking down at me, a king observing a peasant. If anything, he sounded... annoyed.

"Go away. I don't want to see you." I tried to keep my voice steady, laced with anger.

He didn't move. Instead, he crouched down, bringing his face level with mine. The proximity sent a jolt through me.

"Do you see what your husband is now?" he asked softly, his words a confirmation of my worst fears.

I glared at him. "You led me there on purpose. You knew all along."

He let out a soft, humorless chuckle. "Yes. Because I was curious. Curious to see how you would react. What do you plan to do about it? Continue being the dutiful Mrs. Miller?"

Dutiful? How could I?

The image of Garrett and Leah, their bodies entwined, flashed in my mind. The humiliation, the betrayal-it all ignited into a white-hot rage. Why? Why was I the one betrayed, the one mocked, the one left to cry in silence?

His words were an arrogance, an assumption that I was weak.

No. I would not shrink away.

I will have my revenge. I will make Garrett and Leah pay. And I knew that this man, this powerful, cruel man in front of me, might be the only weapon I had.

But I was just a wolfless. He was the Alpha King. The chasm between us was impossibly wide. How could I get him to help me?

A flash of inspiration struck me. I had a plan.

I wiped the tears from my face with the back of my hand and pushed myself to my feet, meeting his gaze directly.

"You asked what I plan to do?" I mirrored his earlier smirk, though mine felt brittle and forced.

I took a step forward, closing the distance between us until I could see the flicker of surprise in his cold eyes.

My hand came up, my fingers tracing the line of his silk tie. I deliberately brushed my fingertips against the hard column of his throat, feeling the slight jump of his pulse beneath my touch.

"Since my husband is unfaithful," I whispered, my voice a low, seductive purr I didn't know I possessed, "why should I remain loyal? Are you... interested, Alpha King?"

I rose on my tiptoes and pressed a light kiss to his lips. A kiss that held no love from me. And then I saw his eyes widen.

It was the boldest, most reckless thing I had ever done. I was gambling on the faint spark of interest I'd seen in his eyes.

The shock on Aiden's face faded, and his eyes darkened. His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist, his grip so tight I thought the bones would snap.

I winced, a small gasp of pain escaping my lips, but I held his gaze.

The air grew thick, charged with his raw Alpha power. It pressed down on me, making my knees weak, but I forced myself to stand tall.

I expected him to humiliate me again. Or worse, to take what I was offering, right here, right now.

But he just stared at me for a long, silent moment, and then his grip loosened. His reaction was completely unexpected.

"Brave," he finally said, his voice still edged with mockery, but something had shifted. "But weak."

He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled something out, pressing it into my palm. It was cool and smooth.

I opened my hand. It was a round, polished piece of black obsidian. A complex sigil of a crescent moon was carved into its surface.

"What is this?" I asked, confused.

"An opportunity," Aiden said, standing up, the distance between us once again vast and unbridgeable. "If you decide you want revenge in a way that isn't so... foolish, bring this to the top floor of the Beaumont Group."

The Beaumont Group? His company? My heart stuttered.

"Don't misunderstand," he said, his voice turning cold again as if he'd read my mind. "I'm not helping you. I just... hate seeing a boring melodrama."

A melodrama? My marriage? The casual disdain in his voice was humiliating, but it was overshadowed by my confusion.

He didn't give me a chance to ask more questions. He turned, his long strides carrying him away into the darkness.

I stood there, clutching the cold obsidian token. It felt like a brand, searing itself into my palm.

Elara Hayes POV:

I sat in the garden for a long time, the cold seeping into my bones. The obsidian token from Aiden was a heavy weight in my hand, a tangible symbol of a choice I didn't know how to make.

Finally, I tucked it into a hidden pocket of my clutch. It was a lifeline I didn't know if I'd ever use, but it was the only one I had.

I walked through the garden toward the main entrance, bypassing the line of black cars waiting for their Pack members. I pulled out my phone and ordered an Uber. I didn't want anything to do with the Miller family's driver, or the Miller family, ever again.

While I waited, I saw Aiden slide into the back of a black Bentley. He turned his head and looked back toward the crowd, our eyes meeting. He left me with a meaningful look.

The crowd from the summit began to spill out. I could no longer see Aiden. I saw Garrett and Leah emerge, walking a few feet apart. They were trying to look casual, but under the dim lights, I saw Garrett's fingers brush against the back of Leah's hand.

Leah's face was flushed with satisfaction. When she saw me, she froze for a second before plastering a look of concern on her face. "Elara! Where have you been? We were looking all over for you."

I stared at her, at her flawless performance. I felt nothing but a cold, heavy disgust. There were even a couple of red marks between her collarbones, a blatant provocation to me. I suppressed the urge to gag, said nothing, and just glared at her.

Garrett walked over, his brow furrowed with irritation. "Why did you run off by yourself? Do you have any idea how rude that is?"

He didn't ask where I had been. He didn't ask if I was safe. He didn't ask if I was upset. He just accused me. Looking at his handsome, deceitful face, I felt the last three years of my life curdle into a sick joke.

My Uber pulled up to the curb. I ignored them both, opened the back door, and got in.

"Elara!" Garrett called out from the sidewalk.

I shut the door and said to the driver, "Go, please."

As the car pulled away, I watched their figures shrink in the rearview mirror, standing together under the streetlight like the final scene of a cheap play.

I directed the driver to the house I shared with Garrett, a sprawling colonial in a wealthy New York suburb. Everything here had been provided by his parents, including me, the "lady of the house."

The house was empty and cold, just like our marriage.

I went straight to the walk-in closet and pulled out a suitcase. I started packing. I couldn't stand to be in this place for one more second.

I only took what was mine. The things my parents had given me, some clothes I'd bought with my own salary, and my law school textbooks.

The designer bags and jewelry Garrett had bought me, I left untouched in their velvet boxes.

I was dragging my suitcase down the grand staircase when the front door opened. Garrett stumbled in, reeking of alcohol.

His eyes landed on my suitcase, and his face hardened. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm going to my parents' house for a few days," I said calmly. I was too tired to even argue.

He was slightly annoyed by my attitude. He lunged forward to grab my arm, but I sidestepped him.

His body brushed past mine. The cloying scent of Leah's perfume mixed with the stale smell of whiskey on his breath made my stomach churn.

"Elara, stop this," he said, his voice softening into a placating tone. He tried to wrap his arms around me from behind. "I was wrong tonight. I only focused on business and neglected you. Let me make it up to you, okay?"

Business? I let out a cold laugh. Betraying me with my friend-was that business too?

His hands slid down to my waist, his lips close to my ear. His warm breath on my skin made me recoil. I could smell the faint, waxy scent of another she-wolf's lipstick on his neck.

A wave of revulsion, so powerful it was physical, washed over me.

I shoved him away. Hard. The force sent him stumbling back several steps.

"Don't touch me!" I snarled, my voice shaking with a disgust I could no longer contain. "You're filthy."

Garrett's face darkened, the feigned gentleness vanishing. It was replaced by the raw anger of a man whose pride had been wounded. "What do you mean?! Elara, don't push your luck!"

Seeing the mask finally drop, the last vestiges of affection I might have held for him turned to ash.

I didn't say another word. I just grabbed the handle of my suitcase and walked toward the door.

"You walk out that door, and you'll regret it!" he roared from behind me.

I didn't look back. I opened the door and stepped out into the cold night.

As the door clicked shut behind me, I closed the door on three years of living like a transparent ghost.

I dragged my suitcase down the silent, tree-lined street with nowhere to go. Finally, I stopped under a streetlight, pulled out my phone, and dialed the one number I knew I could trust.

The phone was answered on the second ring. "Elara? It's the middle of the night. What's wrong?"