The Lycan's Cute Wife

Rath.

"I'm thrilled you all managed to tear yourselves away from your dramatic pack politics to discuss the current situation," I began, letting my gaze sweep over the five alpha leaders seated around the table. These were the big dogs-literally. The humans had lost their war against us werewolves, and now we were in charge. It was a classic case of "tables turned"-once the hunted, now the hunters. Or, as I liked to think of it, the ultimate underdog story.

Raider lit his Cuban cigar, squinting at me like I'd stolen his favorite chew toy. He knew where this was going, and spoiler alert-he didn't like it.

"The humans are offering a peace treaty," I began, savoring their collective eye rolls. "They're prepared to surrender six territories loaded with resources-diamonds, oil, coltan, gold, sulfur, and titanium-and as a cherry on top, they've offered me a virgin bride."

Alpha Theron nearly yeeted his glass across the table. Thankfully, Billie had swapped out our regular glasses for reinforced ones after the Great Whiskey Smash incident last month. "This has to be some kind of sick joke," Theron barked, looking like he'd just been asked to babysit a litter of hyperactive pups.

"Calm down, drama king," Alpha Harry said, swirling his whiskey like the smug negotiator he was. "Honestly, it's not the worst idea. They're desperate, and we've got them by the tail. Why not milk the situation?"

I leaned back, resisting the urge to bang my head against the table. "Milk" and "virgin bride" in the same sentence was not helping my headache.

"I'm with Harry," Alpha Dane chimed in, topping off his drink like we were at happy hour. "The deal's solid. But good luck explaining it to the pack-'Hey guys, guess what? I'm marrying a human!' Should go over great."

"No one's explaining anything," I said, my voice cool as ice. "She's my bride, my problem. I'll handle it."

"Just don't get too cozy with the humans," Castro Cassian warned, his tone dripping with wisdom. "We fought hard for our freedom."

"Yes, thank you, Captain Obvious," I muttered, exhaling a puff of smoke. The humans had emailed their desperate plea, probably after I ghosted their calls.

"Anyway, meeting adjourned," I said, rising. "Also, Hands off my wife. I get it-you're alphas, and your urges are practically over the moon. But try it, and you'll wish I sent you to the humans."

She's human, they will have urges to kill or worse, imprint her. Not under my watch.

As the other alphas left, grumbling under their breaths, Raider lingered. His glare could've singed my fur.

"You could have any woman," he growled, "and you pick... a human? What's next-inviting them to our barbecues?"

"Relax, Raider," I said, deadpan. "She's my shipment, not yours. And no, you can't borrow her."

He stormed out, slamming the door hard enough to rattle my whiskey glass.

A human bride... The irony wasn't lost on me. The scent of human blood stirred primal instincts, but now one would be sharing my den-possibly eating my snacks. And while feeding on humans made us stronger, I doubted any alpha would risk challenging me over her. At least, not if they valued their lives.

I never thought I'd marry a human, let alone willingly. The mere idea felt like biting into a lemon-uncomfortable, sour, and something I'd rather avoid. But here I was, contemplating life with a species I loathed above all others. One by one, the alphas drove away from my estate, probably shaking their heads at my "ridiculous" decision. I could almost hear Raider muttering, "A human bride? What's next, vegan werewolves?"

Slumping into my office chair, I stared at the wall like it might offer advice. The truth was, I didn't even know what my so-called "shipment" looked like. For all I knew, she could be five feet of sass or a nervous wreck clutching a houseplant for emotional support. I wouldn't find out until the wedding day-when she'd be delivered like an Amazon package with express shipping.

A knock at the door jolted me back to reality.

"Come in," I called, not bothering to sound enthused.

"Afternoon tea, master," Billie said as she wheeled in her trusty trolley. She was my housekeeper, therapist, and occasional babysitter for my moods.

"Billie, ready one of the rooms. We're getting a new resident-a human," I announced.

Her eyes sparkled behind her glasses, and I could practically see the gears turning in her head. "New resident?"

"She'll be my wife. It's... a business arrangement," I clarified, hoping to sound less like someone who'd lost a bet.

"Understood, master," she replied with a curtsey, as if this was the most normal thing I'd ever asked her to do.

"Anything else I should prepare?" she asked, her tone betraying just a hint of curiosity.

"That's all for now," I said, waving her off. She'd adjust, I was sure of it. Billie could handle just about anything, even the arrival of a human bride. But to be safe, I decided the guest room was her best option-for now. Sharing my personal space with a human was out of the question. Who knew if she snored or, worse, chewed loudly?

If only there were a way to claim those juicy territories without tying the knot. But no, marriage was apparently the key to lasting peace. And while I liked winning wars, I hated the price tag. So here I was, trading my bachelor freedom for land and minerals. Romantic, right?

As I thought over how this would pan out. Billie reappeared.

"Apologies for disturbing you, master. Should I stock specific soaps or lotions for the guest?" she asked, her expression perfectly polite.

"Not that I'm aware of. But make sure to prepare aloe syrup," I added.

Her glasses slipped down her nose slightly, a rare sign of surprise. Aloe syrup wasn't just gross-it was a foul concoction designed to make humans temporarily resistant to a Lycan's strength. Without it, one enthusiastic hug could turn my bride into a pancake.

"Noted, master. I'll handle it," she muttered, her professional demeanor intact.

For years, it had just been me and Billie rattling around this oversized estate. Now, I was adding a human to the mix. She'd better not rearrange my bookshelves-or worse, touch my collection of vintage cigars. Life was about to get interesting, whether I liked it or not.

Dahlia.

They call me the Black Dahlia... not to be confused with the tragic Hollywood story, though my life isn't much cheerier. Raised in the Church of the Lightens-a cult disguised as a community of overly serious control freaks—I was groomed to be the perfect doll. Seen, not heard. A decorative mute. My opinions? About as relevant as a snowball in a furnace.

Things went south quickly-people died, chaos ensued, and somehow, I made it out alive. Heavens Church swooped in to "save" me. And now? Here I am, living as the unluckiest virgin in history.

I'd heard rumors about a girl being offered to the werewolves-a sacrificial lamb in a wedding dress-but I brushed it off as gossip. Turns out, when you're the only virgin left and have hair longer than Rapunzel's, you're practically a glowing target.

When the church bells rang, I knew doom was knocking-literally. Two familiar faces, Mr. Randy and Mr. Bob, appeared at my door. Their smiles were strained, the kind t