LOGIN"When the cursed blood awakens, only the blood of his Moon-chosen mate can cleanse it. The life that purifies the darkness shall return to the stars." —THE ANCIENT PROPHECY. They have spent my entire life searching for the woman destined to save me. I have spent every second praying to my dead father they never find her. I never wanted her. I do not need a mate, and I certainly do not need saving. I am the heir to Shadow Pack and Nightfall Pack. The last of my bloodline. The monster my father died trying to erase. Then the mate bond snaps. Not with a princess. Not with the powerful Starborn Omega from the prophecy. But with a fat little thief caught stealing from my land. I reject her before anyone discovers she is mine. Keeping her close as my prisoner is the perfect way to prove fate made a mistake. Only fate never makes mistakes. As the darkness in my blood begins to awaken, kingdoms prepare for war, old enemies crawl out of the shadows, and the monster inside me hungers for blood. Now the only woman who can save my life is the mate I swore I would never claim. And if the prophecy is true— Saving me… …will kill her. She thought stealing from me was the greatest mistake of her life. She has no idea that becoming my mate will be far worse. [THE CURSED BLOODLINE SERIES BOOK II]
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Welcome to Bound to the Forbidden Alpha Prince, Book Two of The Cursed Bloodline Series. This story can be enjoyed on its own, but for the full emotional journey—and to truly understand Warren, the legacy he carries, and the world he was born into—I highly recommend reading Book One: Bound to the Alpha I Swore to Kill first. Whether you’re returning or joining the series for the first time… Welcome back to Shadow Pack. Now, let’s see what kind of monster Adrian left behind. ✦────✦✦────✦ ✦────✦✦────✦ To everyone who believed the beast died with my father— You were wrong. I am what remains. And I have no intention of being saved. ✦────✦✦────✦ ✦────✦✦────✦ 🩸WARREN🩸 I have never understood why people call my father a hero. Heroes are supposed to survive. They are supposed to live long enough to see their children grow, to watch their packs flourish, to grow old in the arms of the women they love. My father did none of those things. He died in the dirt with his mate's tears on his face and his brother's blood on his hands. He died because of love. He died before I could even open my eyes, before I could learn what it meant to be his son. And yet, they call him a hero. My mother still visits his cabin every month. She thinks I do not know. She leaves before sunrise with that old leather journal pressed against her chest and returns after dark with swollen eyes, pretending she is not crying. She thinks I believe her when she says she is taking walks or visiting the gardens. I stopped asking where she goes when I was eight years old because I already knew. I have always known. She couldn’t move on. She still belongs to a dead man. I hate that cabin. I hate the journal. I hate that no matter where I go, he gets there first. Everyone says I have his eyes. The same cold blue. The same hard stare. The same way of looking at people as though they are already beneath me. They say I inherited his blood. They pray I did not inherit his curse. Sometimes, when the darkness whispers beneath my skin, when hunger claws at my ribs and rage burns through my veins, I wonder if their prayers were answered too late. "Your mother is waiting for you, Your Highness." I glanced toward the servant standing in the doorway, his head bowed, his hands clasped in front of him. He is new, young, barely more than a boy. He does not know me well enough to read the warning in my silence. "Tell the Alpha Queen I’m not coming." The servant hesitates, his fingers twitching at his sides. "She asked me to tell you… today is your father's memorial." Of course it is. Every year the pack gathers to celebrate the man who saved them. Every year they tell the same stories, the same tales of his courage, his sacrifice, his love. Every year they look at me as though they expect another Adrian to rise from the ashes of his memory. They want me to be him. They want me to be strong, noble, worthy. They want me to be the Alpha my father was. They will be disappointed. "I am not coming." The servant pales, his face draining of color like I have just told him I am going to burn the pack to the ground. "But—" "I said… I am not coming." He bows and leaves, his footsteps quick and hurried, desperate to escape before I change my mind and decide to make an example of him. Silence settles over the room like a weight pressing down on my shoulders. I walk to the window overlooking Shadow Pack, the familiar sight of the pack grounds sprawling out before me. The houses, the gardens, the training yards, the memorial stone where my father's name is carved into the rock. Twenty-four years ago, my father gave these people peace. He gave them safety, freedom, and a future. He gave them everything he had and then he died for it. If only they knew what his blood had created instead. The pack still prays to my father. One day, they would pray to be saved from me.💫RAYNE💫The guards dropped me on the cold stone floor of the cell, and my twisted ankle screamed the second it took my weight.I bit down on the sound before it could escape. I had learned a long time ago not to give anyone the satisfaction of hearing me hurt.The door slammed shut behind them, and the lock turned with a sound that settled deep into my chest. I stayed where I had landed for a long moment, my cheek pressed against the stone, my wrists still raw from the rope. The floor beneath me held no warmth at all. It seeped straight through my torn dress and into my skin until I could not tell anymore where the cold ended and my own body began.I pulled myself upright, dragging my back against the wall, and finally let myself look around. Stone on every side. A small window cut high near the ceiling, too small for anything but light to pass through. No blanket. No bed. Just me and the cold and the ache spreading up from my ankle into my knee.I was never going home.The thought
🩸WARREN🩸MINE!The word exploded through my skull the moment our eyes met. I did not choose it. It simply arrived, tearing through every wall I had spent twenty-four years building brick by brick.Kian roared inside my chest, a violence I had never felt from him before. Not once. Not in every fight I had ever thrown him into, not in every kill I had let him taste.MINE.The force of it nearly knocked me off balance where I sat. My hand found the arm of my chair and gripped it until I felt it start to splinter under my palm.Twenty-four years of discipline kept my face exactly where it belonged. Cold and unreadable. Carved from the same ice everyone in this pack had accused me of since I was a boy. But underneath that stillness, something ancient had clawed its way awake, and it was already dragging its claws down the inside of my ribs, demanding I move, demanding I claim, demanding things I had sworn my entire life I would never want.No.Absolutely not.This could not be happening.
💫RAYNE💫I could not stop shaking.My wrists were still pinned behind my back, the rope was cutting into my skin with every step the men forced me forward. My legs moved on their own now, one foot after the other, because I did not have a choice.I knew exactly where they were taking me.The Pack House. The Alpha Prince.I did not even have to ask. Everyone knew where thieves went…. Straight to the Alpha.I was beyond terrified. Not because I had stolen. I had stolen plenty of times before and always managed to slip away clean. This was different. This time they had caught me, and this time I knew exactly who I was about to stand in front of.I had heard stories about the Alpha Prince. He was cold, cruel and merciless.Nothing like his parents.I had always admired Alpha Queen Isora. People said she once fed starving rogues instead of killing them on sight. People said she saw the good in everyone, even the ones nobody else bothered looking twice at. I used to lie awake as a child an
💫RAYNE💫My stepmother’s scream hit me before I even crossed the kitchen.“What do you mean you didn’t get any vegetables!”“The money you gave me was not enough.” My voice came out low. I had learned a long time ago that talking too loud in this house only made things worse.“But you were able to buy your dress for the bonfire tonight huh, you fatass!” Dahlia walked into the kitchen holding up the gown I had thrifted from the local market. She held it by the shoulders like it disgusted her to touch it.“I bought that with my own money.” My hands curled into fists at my sides. “Dad bought you a new dress with money that could have lasted us another moon. He bought nothing for me.”“Because you’re ugly Rayne.” Dahlia’s eyes dragged down my body, slow, the way she always did before she said something meant to cut deep. “You’re fat. You think they make expensive dresses in extra large? Let alone four extra large?”She never got tired of it. My weight was the one thing she could always r






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