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His Regret, My Throne Novel Cover

His Regret, My Throne

Alpha Damien claims marking the Omega Seraphina is the only way to cure her Moon Sickness, but his future Luna senses the betrayal. After he installs the Omega in the Luna’s suite, a medical report exposes the truth: Seraphina is six weeks pregnant. Realizing the marking occurred months prior, the protagonist shatters their bond. Instead of attending her Mating Ceremony, she accepts an elite healer's invitation and leaves her pack behind forever.
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Chapter 2

I didn't sleep all night.

After Seraphina retreated to the penthouse, Damien followed her up.

"She needs someone to look after her," was the only explanation he gave.

I sat in our empty apartment, the memory of that mark—its scent—replaying over and over in my mind.

The tear in our bond throbbed, a constant, agonizing reminder.

Then it hit me.

Three weeks ago.

That night.

Damien had said he was going to handle a border dispute and didn't come back until the next morning.

That night, I lay in bed, fighting back waves of searing pain that tore through our bond.

I thought something was wrong with me, or that Damien had been hurt in the conflict.

I only breathed a sigh of relief when he finally returned.

His clothes had the faint scent of laurel leaves on them.

The sacred incense burned only during a Mating Rite.

I'd even asked him, "Did you go to the Sacred Grove?"

He'd said, "Just passing by."

It never even crossed my mind that he would betray me. Betray our fate.

Now I understood.

He had already marked Seraphina that night.

And I, like a fool, had been sitting here worrying about his safety.

At dawn, my phone buzzed.

An encrypted email.

From: The Laurel Healers' Guild.

"Dear Miss Isla, we formally invite you to participate in our research initiative on Ancient Life Energies. This is the highest honor for a healer and the perfect place for your talents. Should you be interested, we hope for a response within the week."

I stared at the screen.

This was the opportunity I had dreamed of my entire life.

It was also my only way out.

Damien walked in just as I was packing my things.

"What are you doing?"

"Packing my herbs," I said without looking up. "Since the penthouse has a new occupant, I don't want to be in the way."

"Isla, listen to me—"

"There's nothing to say." I stood up and looked him dead in the eye. "The Mating Ceremony," I stated, my voice dangerously calm, "is off."

The color drained from Damien's face.

"You can't do that."

"I can," I said, turning back to my packing. "I refuse to mate with an Alpha who has already marked someone else."

"I told you, it's temporary!" he yelled, grabbing my arm. "I'll remove the mark in a month!"

"And then what?" I shook him off. "You think I'll ever trust you again?"

Pain flashed in Damien's eyes. "She's dying, Isla. I can't just stand by and watch her die."

"Why?" I demanded. "Because you owe her? Owe her for what?"

Damien fell silent, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"If you won't tell me, then we have nothing to talk about." I walked toward the door.

"Wait!" Damien scrambled after me, his powerful frame dropping to one knee before me. "I promise you, in one month, I will give you the grandest ceremony this continent has ever seen. Every pack in North America will be there to witness it."

I looked down at him, kneeling.

It wasn't pity I felt, but a bitter sense of absurdity and injustice.

Were our five years together, our fated bond, really going to end over a lie?

Was I really going to give up this easily?

In that moment of hesitation, the elevator doors opened.

Seraphina stepped out.

Seeing Damien on his knees, a fleeting, triumphant smirk touched her lips.

She walked right up to me and deliberately handed me a file folder.

"Isla," she said, her voice soft. "I know you're a healer, too. This is my medical report. Could you take a look? Damien's Alpha energy is so powerful. I've been recovering so well since the marking, but... there's been an unexpected side effect. I'm a little scared."

I took the report, my eyes scanning the data.

As a top-tier healer, I spotted the discrepancy immediately.

Six weeks pregnant.

But Damien had only completed the marking less than three weeks ago.

The dates didn't add up.

I looked up, my gaze cold, and handed the report to Damien.

"Congratulations," I said, my voice dripping with ice. "It seems this 'side effect' began long before the 'temporary mark'."

Then, without a second glance at his shocked and questioning face, I walked back into my room.

I looked at the calendar, at the bright red circle around our Mating Ceremony date.

It was now my departure date.

The countdown: thirteen days.

I opened my laptop and clicked reply.

"I accept your invitation. "

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