The scent of wolfsbane and champagne hit my nostrils the moment I opened my eyes, and I knew—impossibly, miraculously—that I'd been given another chance. My heart hammered against my ribs as I stared at the ornate ceiling of the Moonstone Palace ballroom. The crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting prismatic light across hundreds of werewolves dressed in their finest formal wear. Music thrummed through the air, a waltz I remembered with painful clarity. Because I'd lived this night before. Three years ago—or was it three years from now?—I would leave this ballroom with Adrian Blackthorn, the Crown Prince and heir to the Northern Territories. I would wake up in his bed, confused and terrified, my wolf whimpering at the bond that had snapped into place without my consent. Neither of us would remember how we got there or what happened between us. But I would be pregnant. And that pregnancy would seal my fate. Adrian would marry me out of duty, resent me every single day, and ultimately—when his true love Sera returned from her mysterious absence—he would kill me and our twin children in a rage-fueled night I still saw every time I closed my eyes. "Not this time," I whispered, my fingers clenching around the champagne flute in my hand. "Did you say something, Lyra?" I turned to find my best friend Mara looking at me with concern, her auburn hair gleaming under the lights. She was alive. Whole. In my previous life, she'd tried to defend me during Adrian's final attack. He'd ripped her throat out for her loyalty. "I'm fine," I managed, forcing a smile. "Just... taking it all in." "Well, take it in faster. Prince Adrian just arrived, and every unmated she-wolf in the territory is about to lose her mind." Mara's eyes sparkled with excitement. She didn't know yet that her prince was a monster wearing a beautiful mask. I followed her gaze to the grand entrance where Adrian stood, devastating in a black suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and commanding presence. His dark hair was artfully tousled, his silver eyes scanning the crowd with the confidence of someone who'd never been denied anything in his life. At twenty-six, he was everything a werewolf prince should be: powerful, charismatic, and absolutely lethal. My wolf stirred inside me, recognizing him despite everything. The mate bond hadn't formed yet, but the potential was there, written in our very DNA. In another timeline, I would have thought it was fate. Now I knew better. Fate was just another word for tragedy waiting to happen. "Lyra Thorne." The deep voice behind me sent ice down my spine. Not because I didn't recognize it—but because I did, and I hadn't expected him to approach me yet. I turned slowly, and my breath caught. King Aldric Blackthorn stood before me, and I was struck by how much I'd forgotten about him. In my previous life, he'd been a distant figure, cold and disapproving of his son's "trapped" bride. I'd seen him maybe a dozen times before Adrian killed me, always from a distance, always surrounded by advisors and power. Up close, he was devastating in a completely different way than his son. Where Adrian was sharp angles and barely restrained aggression, Aldric was controlled power incarnate. He had to be in his late forties, but he wore the years like a crown. His dark hair was threaded with silver at the temples, his face carved with the kind of masculine beauty that only improved with age. He was taller than Adrian, broader, with eyes the color of midnight that seemed to see straight through me. "Your Majesty," I managed, dropping into a curtsy that was probably too deep, too submissive. But my mind was racing. Why was he talking to me? In my previous timeline, we'd never exchanged a single word at this ball. "Walk with me." It wasn't a request. I glanced at Mara, whose eyes had gone wide with shock and envy, then followed the King as he led me away from the crowd. We stepped onto one of the palace's many balconies, the cool night air a relief against my flushed skin. "You're Lyra Thorne, daughter of Marcus Thorne, the Northern Territory's head strategist," Aldric said, his back to me as he gazed out over the palace gardens. "Twenty-three years old, graduated top of your class from the Academy, specializing in pack law and ancient history." "You're well informed, Your Majesty." "I make it my business to know the wolves in my territory." He turned to face me, and the intensity of his gaze made my wolf sit up and take notice. "Especially the interesting ones." "I'm not sure what makes me interesting, Your Majesty." A smile ghosted across his lips. "You're one of the few wolves here tonight who hasn't tried to throw themselves at my son. That alone makes you fascinating." I couldn't help my bitter laugh. "Perhaps I simply have better survival instincts than most." His eyes sharpened. "An interesting choice of words." Damn it. I needed to be more careful. No one could know about my previous life, about what I'd survived—what I'd died from. If they thought I was crazy or cursed, I'd lose any chance at changing my fate. "I only meant that the Prince clearly has his pick of the territory," I said carefully. "I have no interest in being one of many admirers." "And what if you were the only one?" The question hung in the air between us, loaded with meaning I couldn't quite decipher. Before I could respond, a wave of dizziness hit me. The balcony tilted, and I grabbed the railing for support. "Are you alright?" Aldric's hand was suddenly on my elbow, steadying me. His touch sent sparks across my skin, and my wolf purred in a way that made no sense. "I... I don't know. I feel strange." His eyes widened, and I watched as he swayed slightly. "The champagne," he said, his voice rough. "Someone drugged the champagne." And just like that, I remembered. This was how it had started before. Someone—I'd never learned who—had laced the drinks with a powerful aphrodisiac, something strong enough to affect even Alpha-blooded wolves. In my previous life, I'd stumbled away from the party, trying to find somewhere safe to ride it out. Adrian had found me instead. But this time, I wasn't with Adrian. I was with his father. The King's scent wrapped around me, pine and smoke and something wild that made my wolf howl with need. The drug was hitting fast, too fast, burning through my system like liquid fire. I could see Aldric fighting it too, his jaw clenched, his eyes beginning to glow with his wolf's presence. "You need to leave," he ground out. "Now. Before—" "Before what?" I interrupted, and I hardly recognized my own voice. The drug was stripping away my inhibitions, but underneath it, there was something else. A clarity born of desperation and second chances. "Before you lose control? Before we do something we can't take back?" "Lyra—" "In my quarters or yours, Your Majesty?" I stepped closer, watching his pupils dilate. "Because we both know neither of us is making it out of this palace before the drug takes hold. The only question is whether we face it together or destroy whoever gets in our path trying to fight it alone." It was insane. Reckless. Everything I'd never been in my previous life, when I'd been so careful, so proper, so desperate to do everything right. And look where that had gotten me. Dead at twenty-six with my children's blood on my hands and Adrian's teeth in my throat. This time, I would be different. This time, I would survive. And if that meant seducing a king instead of being trapped by a prince? So be it. Aldric stared at me, and I could see the war raging behind his eyes. Honor versus need. Duty versus desire. The drug was making the choice for both of us, but there was still a moment—one crystalline moment—where we could have walked away. Instead, he took my hand. "Mine," he said roughly. "My quarters. And Lyra?" His thumb brushed across my knuckles, the touch electric. "In the morning, we will speak of this. All of it." I nodded, not trusting my voice. As he led me back through the ballroom, I caught a glimpse of Adrian across the crowd. Our eyes met, and I saw the exact moment he caught my scent mingled with his father's, saw the confusion and something darker flash across his face. Good, I thought viciously. Let him wonder. Let him question. In my previous life, he'd stolen my choice, my body, my future. He'd built his happiness on my suffering and ended my life without a moment's hesitation. This time, I would take everything from him instead. Starting with his birthright.