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Alpha’s Rejected Mate Returns as Queen

“I, Benson Walton, reject you, Selma Payne, from being my future Luna and mate. “If you’re sensible, you’ll find a quiet place to die on your own, instead of tarnishing our people’s glory. “You’re just an ugly toad. Stay in the mud quietly, and don’t burden our pack.” On Benson’s nineteenth birthday, he found out that we were destined mates. But I didn’t expect that he would rather endure great pain than accept me. Every word he said smashed directly into my heart, and the pain made me tremble uncontrollably. I learned I wasn’t my parents’ biological child when I was sixteen. Although they thought of me as an angel that a stork had given them, it didn’t change the fact that I was a weak, little human. I was just a soft egg who would fall over with a poke, a loser who couldn’t even see the road without help from the moonlight. My existence brought shame to my parents, and to my pack! Perhaps I should have died in the woods from the start. With that thought in mind, I decided to return them a pure and unblemished pack tonight. So, I jumped off a cliff and thought I would die. I never imagined I would be saved, and my true identity turned out to be the Lycan King’s only daughter who had been lost eighteen years ago. I was also heir to the throne! That surprised me a lot. I was actually a werewolf? But… Why was I so weak? Was this all just a mistake? To become a qualified heir, I concealed my identity and received training. However, could that frivolous instructor who was in charge of training me really help me awaken my wolf, or was he simply taking advantage of me? As I grew stronger and became a public figure, others attacked and plotted against me many times. Did they have anything to do with those who kidnapped me all those years ago? I have to catch them! I’ll protect my family, and my lover!

Mountain Springs · Geral
Classificações insuficientes
819 Chs

The Mistake

Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

Carolyn's POV:

I had fantasized about her appearance, using my and Father's faces as a blueprint, but every time I tried, it failed because I knew there was an element I would never know—the pure white witch, the woman who died for love.

But precisely because I had so many fantasies, I wasn't surprised when I saw Adele; instead, there was a calm feeling of 'ah, indeed'.

I must admit she was an exceedingly beautiful woman, with every curve and angle of her facial features perfectly in place. Her skin, pale from years of absence from daylight, displayed a morbid pallor, a kind of poignant beauty pursued in classical aesthetics.

But that head of dry, white hair ruined everything.

Dry, pale, and floor-length, the long hair mixed all the beauty into a chaotic mess, wildly displaying its owner's painful and unbearable life. All the suffering condensed into this long crystallization.