Myne_17

I died in an explosion—a betrayal engineered by the man I trusted most.

But instead of the end, I woke up in a new body. A noblewoman’s body. Evelina, disgraced and hated, accused of poisoning the Crown Prince of a kingdom where werewolves rule the land. 

And worse? 

The man whose life I supposedly tried to end is now my fated mate.

Damian, the Crown Prince, is as cold as the moonlight that binds us, his piercing silver eyes filled with distrust every time they land on me. He doesn’t believe my innocence, and frankly, I don’t care. 

My only priority is survival in this dangerous, medieval world—and figuring out why fate decided to shove me into the life of a traitor.

But the longer I’m near Damian, the harder it is to ignore the pull between us—the undeniable heat of the mate bond that makes his touch electric and his presence intoxicating.

Enemies lurk in the shadows, including the woman who thinks she should be his Luna. Court intrigue spirals out of control, and the person behind Evelina’s betrayal might be closer than I realize.

Damian’s trust is my only shield, but when the truth of my transmigration comes to light, I’m not sure even that will be enough to save me.

Because in this world, it’s not love that conquers all—it’s power. And mine might not be enough.

Transmigrated as the Crown Prince's Mate

Roman was quiet after the fight. Too quiet.

He didn't complain about the bruises, the slow way he moved, or how he occasionally winced when standing too fast. He just… watched me.

Every time I brought him water or pressed a cool cloth to his shoulder, every time I adjusted his bandage or touched his arm longer than necessary—he watched me.

Not like a patient. Like a man memorising his reason to stay alive.

He didn't ask for help, but I gave it.

Just like he once nursed me when I was broken, lost, confused, and afraid of what I'd become. Back then, his hands had steadied me without demanding anything in return. So now, I gave him the same.

The pack had settled for now. No threats. No chaos. No one knocking on the door screaming for blood. Just silence and this fragile space we were building together, like walking on a glass bridge in bare feet.

Stay...