Rejected Luna: Claimed by the Lycan King

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My mate rejected me in front of four hundred wolves. So I claimed the Lycan King instead. It was supposed to be a joke. When an Alpha rejects a girl in public, the old law lets her name a second mate, and the pack gets to laugh at her twice. Nobody has been accepted in a hundred years. So I looked past every boy in Hollowpine, straight at the most dangerous man alive, and said his name. Adrian Sterling, sovereign of every pack on the continent, stood up while four hundred wolves went to their knees. "Accepted," he said. "Mine." Now the man who threw me away has to bow to me. The court gives me eighty-six days to shift, or I'm exiled as a pretender. I've never had a wolf. But I have something nobody else has: when I heal, I can see every mate bond as a thread. True ones shine silver. And half the marriages in the King's court are gold. Forged. The King has a secret of his own. Lycan kings without a mate go feral before thirty-three. He's thirty-one, and he chains himself in a tower every full moon. The only thing that quiets him is me.