My Mate Traded Me to Rogues for His Mistress

The Silverfang Pack House loomed ahead like a fortress carved from stone and ambition. I'd traveled three days down from the mountain sanctuary where my family had lived for generations, where the air smelled of pine and healing herbs, where the old ways still mattered. My grandfather's words echoed in my mind as the car pulled up to the entrance: "Trust your nose, Camilla. It never lies."

I'm Camilla Wells, last of the mountain Healers, and I was here to fulfill a treaty older than my grandmother's grandmother. To become Luna to an Alpha I'd never met.

The Beta who greeted me wasn't Alexander. Marcus Thompson barely glanced at me as he gestured toward the entrance. "You're late. The ceremony starts in an hour."

"The roads were—"

"Save it." He turned on his heel, expecting me to follow.

As we walked through the hallways, something hit me. A smell. Faint but unmistakable—sickly sweet, like fruit left too long in the sun, undercut with sulfur. My stomach turned. I'd smelled that combination once before, in my grandfather's notes about necrosis. About flesh rotting from the inside.

But Marcus walked right through it like it was nothing. The pack members we passed showed no reaction either. How could they not smell it?

"The Alpha will meet you before the ceremony," Marcus said, stopping at a corner. "He's—"

"Right here."

The voice came from behind me. Deep. Commanding. I turned.

Alpha Alexander Anderson was everything the treaty promised—tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and the kind of presence that made people step back. But his eyes. They were glassy, unfocused, like he was looking through me instead of at me.

Then he touched my hand.

The Mate Bond hit like lightning. Every cell in my body recognized him, reached for him, screamed *mine*. For one perfect second, I felt the connection the Moon Goddess had woven between us.

Then something cold and oily slithered over it, smothering the warmth. Dampening it. Wrong. Everything about it felt wrong.

Alexander pulled his hand back quickly. "Welcome to Silverfang," he said, his tone flat. "Don't embarrass me tonight."

He walked away before I could respond.

An hour later, I stood at the altar in the Great Hall wearing the traditional white ceremonial robes my mother had sewn. Around me, the pack elite wore designer suits and cocktail dresses that probably cost more than our entire mountain compound. The contrast wasn't lost on anyone. I caught whispers, saw the smirks.

The Elder raised his hands, and the hall fell silent. "We gather under the light of the Moon Goddess to witness the sacred bond between Alpha and Luna..."

Alexander stood beside me, stiff and distant. The rot-smell was stronger here, clinging to him like a second skin. I tried to breathe through my mouth, but my Healer senses wouldn't let me ignore it.

The Elder reached for our hands. "By the ancient rites, we call upon—"

The doors slammed open.

A woman burst through, small and blonde, carrying a cooler like she was bringing refreshments to a picnic. The entire hall turned to stare.

"Wait!" She rushed down the aisle, her voice high and breathless. "Alexander, you need this first. You can't complete the ceremony without it."

Marcus moved to intercept her, but Alexander held up a hand. "Let her through."

The woman—Jemma, I realized, the Omega Marcus had mentioned dismissively earlier—set the cooler down and opened it. Inside were glass vials filled with a milky white liquid.

"Your Moon Essence," she said, pulling one out and offering it to him like a sacred gift. "To stabilize your overwhelming power before the mating. You know what happens when you go too long without it."

My blood went cold.

Alexander took the vial. Uncapped it. The smell hit me like a physical blow—Wolfsbane, sharp and bitter, wrapped in something darker. Something that made my skin crawl.

"Don't." The word ripped out of me. "That's poison."

Every head in the hall turned toward me.

Alexander paused, the vial halfway to his lips. "What did you say?"

"It's Wolfsbane. And dark magic. I can smell it. That's what's rotting you from the inside—"

He drank it. Right there, in front of everyone, he tilted his head back and drained the entire vial.

When he lowered it, his eyes flashed. Not the deep crimson of an Alpha. Yellow. Sickly, corrupted yellow.

"You don't know what you're talking about." His voice was cold, mocking. "This is what keeps my Alpha aura strong. But I wouldn't expect a jealous, wolfless Late Bloomer to understand Alpha needs."

Laughter rippled through the crowd. Sharp. Cutting.

Jemma smiled at me, sweet as honey. "It's okay. You're new here. You'll learn."

The Elder cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Shall we... continue?"

Alexander wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and reached for mine again. His palm was cold. Dead.

And I realized with sinking horror that the man standing beside me, the one the Moon Goddess had chosen as my mate, was already halfway gone.