My Fiancé Secretly Desired My Sister — So I Married A Beggar In Front Of The King
Part 3
Surviving in that frozen hovel required a stubbornness Brenda hadn’t realized she possessed, especially with a man who watched her every move with deep-seated suspicion.
She learned to ignore the biting cold and Dan’s penetrating gray eyes, focusing entirely on proving she was no fragile aristocrat.
The small fire in the hearth provided little warmth, but her rising anger fueled her through that first miserable night.
She had traded silk gowns and glittering ballrooms for a dilapidated cabin with a man she had bound herself to out of pure spite.
Every time the wind howled through the massive holes in the thatch roof, she cursed her former fiancé’s name.
It had only been a few hours since her entire world had spectacularly collapsed during the grand mating ceremony.
The memory of that glittering ballroom still burned brightly in her mind, a sharp contrast to her current desolate surroundings.
Brenda had stood at the edge of the palace dance floor, watching Craig guide her younger sister through an elegant waltz.
The crystal chandeliers had cast a warm, deceptive glow over the nobility gathered to celebrate the sacred shifter mating rituals.
She had initially thought it was incredibly kind of Craig to ensure Heather felt welcome at Alpha King Tyler’s prestigious court.
Her heart had swelled with affection as she watched the two most important people in her life getting along so famously.
Craig was supposed to claim her as his mate in less than an hour, sealing their union before the entire kingdom.
The masked Alpha King observed the festivities from his distant throne, a silent guardian over the ancient traditions.
Brenda had felt a pleasant flutter in her stomach, believing her future was finally secure after the devastating loss of her parents.
She had approached the dancing pair, offering a bright smile and a compliment on Heather’s graceful footwork.
Craig’s smooth reply about needing the right partner had brought a sudden, bright flush to Heather’s cheeks.
Their eyes had met and lingered for a fraction of a second too long, planting the first tiny seed of doubt in Brenda’s mind.
Dismissing her rising paranoia, she had excused herself to seek fresh air in the palace gardens.
A loud commotion near the side entrance had abruptly halted her progress.
Two heavily armed palace guards were aggressively dragging a hooded man in patched clothing out of the ballroom.
The vagrant had protested loudly, his deep voice carrying over the elegant string music playing in the background.
A rough shove from one of the guards had sent the man stumbling sideways directly into Brenda’s path.
His broad shoulder had collided hard with hers, forcing him to instinctively reach out and grab her bare arm to steady them both.
The instant his skin made contact with hers, a massive jolt of pure energy had rippled through her entire body.
The glittering ballroom had spun wildly out of focus, the ambient noise fading into a strange, underwater hum.
He had offered a low, quiet apology, his grip remaining surprisingly gentle despite the chaos.
The guards had quickly intervened, dragging the man away before Brenda could fully process the strange electrical shock.
Heather had rushed to her side moments later, her face painted with what appeared to be genuine sisterly concern.
Brenda had shaken her head, trying to clear the lingering dizziness and the strange ringing in her ears.
Craig had joined them with a dark scowl, muttering aristocratic complaints about commoners ruining important ceremonial events.
A protective hand on her back had momentarily eased her discomfort, reminding her that they were about to be bound forever.
She had playfully teased Heather about attracting suitors, adjusting a stray curl near her sister’s temple.
The moment her fingers brushed Heather’s skin, a clear, venomous voice had echoed loudly inside Brenda’s mind.
The mental voice had accused Brenda of acting superior and mocking her lack of prospects.
Jerking her hand back in shock, Brenda had demanded to know why Heather would say such a cruel thing.
Heather’s face had contorted into a mask of utter bewilderment as she frantically denied speaking a single word.
The sheer panic in her sister’s eyes had forced Brenda to wonder if the stress of the wedding was making her hallucinate.
Craig had stepped closer, suggesting the excitement was simply getting to her nerves.
Heather had quickly offered to fetch some water, her fingers accidentally brushing Brenda’s wrist as she turned away.
Another vicious thought had hammered into Brenda’s brain, promising that she wouldn’t be so high and mighty once Craig left her.
This time, Brenda had been staring directly at Heather’s face.
Her sister’s lips hadn’t moved a millimeter, yet the words were crystal clear in her mind.
The terrifying realization had crashed over her: she was suddenly hearing people’s private thoughts.
Backing away in horror, she had demanded an explanation for the cruel mental barb.
Heather had stepped back defensively, her voice rising in frantic denial as she swore she hadn’t spoken.
Craig had moved in to comfort her, his hands gently cupping her cheeks in a display of fiancé devotion.
The physical contact had triggered the ability once more, flooding her mind with Craig’s true, sickening intentions.
His mental voice had angrily complained about her foolish doubts, frustrated that he was so close to finally securing her massive inheritance.
He had mentally lamented that if Heather had only been named in the will, he wouldn’t have to marry a pathetic girl like Brenda.
The devastating truth had shattered her heart into a million irreparable pieces in an instant.
She had recoiled violently from his touch, tears of absolute betrayal springing to her eyes.
Screaming that she knew exactly how he really felt, she had refused to take another step toward the altar.
Craig’s handsome face had hardened into a mask of pure irritation as he grabbed her arm tightly.
His thoughts had revealed his desperate need to use her fortune to pay off his father’s crippling debts.
He had hissed a warning to lower her voice, insisting that it was far too late to back out of the ceremony.
Pointing a shaking finger at the beggar sitting near the garden doors, Brenda had made her impulsive, fateful decision.
She had loudly declared that she would rather mate with the filthy vagrant than spend a single second with a lying snake.
Craig had mockingly challenged her, practically daring her to follow through with the insane threat.
Humiliation and rage had burned through her veins, overriding any sense of logic or aristocratic decorum.
She had wrenched herself free and marched directly up to the hooded beggar.
Grabbing the front of his worn cloak, she had pressed her lips firmly to his in front of the entire court.
Instead of a chaotic flood of thoughts, his mind had offered a strange, peaceful silence.
When she pulled away, she had found herself staring into a pair of striking, highly amused gray eyes.
Craig had yanked her backward, his face purple with rage as he dragged her toward the Alpha King’s throne.
He had loudly demanded justice, invoking the ancient laws regarding a betrayed betrothal.
King Tyler had confirmed the brutal law: she must either marry Craig or bind herself to the beggar she chose to kiss.
Craig had smiled triumphantly, absolutely certain she would never choose a life of complete poverty.
He had vastly underestimated the depth of her newly discovered hatred for him.
With her chin held high, Brenda had loudly announced her choice to marry the beggar.
The entire court had erupted into scandalous, horrified chatter at her defiant declaration.
The beggar had calmly introduced himself as Dan, stepping forward to accept his highly unusual bride.
The priest had reluctantly performed the blood-binding ritual, his mind filled with disgust for her foolish choice.
When Dan’s hood fell back, a wave of shocked whispers had rippled through the crowd at his striking, rugged handsome features.
His bite had been surprisingly gentle, sealing their fates together for eternity.
Now, sitting in the freezing cabin, Brenda realized the true weight of her impulsive rebellion.
She was permanently bound to a commoner who clearly believed she was a spoiled aristocrat hiding a vast fortune.
Dan watched her from across the small room, his gray eyes calculating and wary.
He had offered her his only bed, taking the cold, hard floor for himself without a single word of complaint.
The mating bond thrummed steadily between them, a constant reminder of the permanent tether connecting their souls.
She refused to let him see how terrified she truly was of this new, harsh reality.
When morning finally broke, the reality of their crushing poverty became painfully apparent.
The cabin’s pantry contained nothing but a handful of stale oats and a single, withered root vegetable.
Dan tossed a small, worn axe onto the table, challenging her to prove she wasn’t completely useless.
He demanded she gather firewood while he went into the village to seek out a day’s labor.
Brenda lifted her chin defiantly, snatching the heavy tool and marching out into the freezing forest.
Her delicate hands were soon covered in painful, bleeding blisters from gripping the rough wooden handle.
She chopped relentlessly, channeling all her lingering rage at Craig and Heather into every single swing.
By the time Dan returned at sunset, she had managed to build a respectable pile of chopped wood.
He dropped a small sack of flour and a piece of salted meat onto the table, his eyes lingering on her bandaged hands.
A flicker of genuine surprise crossed his rugged features, though he quickly masked it behind a neutral expression.
He didn’t offer a word of praise, but the tension in his broad shoulders seemed to relax slightly.
Over the next month, their lives fell into a grueling, exhausting routine of backbreaking labor.
Brenda took any job the neighboring farmers would offer, desperately trying to pull her own weight.
She spent hours scrubbing out Farmer Mercer’s filthy pigpens, her silk gowns replaced by coarse, muddy linen.
The physical toll was immense, leaving her muscles screaming in agony at the end of every day.
Her new telepathic ability proved to be a constant, highly intrusive curse during her interactions with the villagers.
Every accidental touch flooded her mind with their unfiltered, often cruel judgments about the fallen noblewoman.
She heard them silently mock her soft hands and her obvious lack of practical skills.
The only mind that remained blissfully silent to her was Dan’s.
Whenever they accidentally brushed past each other in the tiny cabin, the mating bond flared with intense heat.
She could sense his general emotions—wariness, frustration, and a growing, undeniable curiosity.
But his specific thoughts remained locked away securely behind an impenetrable mental wall.
One particularly brutal afternoon, Brenda found herself precariously perched on the edge of their sagging roof.
She was desperately trying to hammer damp reeds into the largest holes before the autumn rains began.
A sudden, violent gust of wind caught her off balance, her foot slipping dangerously on the slick thatch.
She slid several terrifying feet toward the edge, her fingernails clawing uselessly at the rotting wood.
Strong, calloused hands suddenly clamped around her calves like a pair of iron vises.
Dan’s urgent voice demanded she stop moving as he climbed the rickety ladder to steady her.
His grip was entirely firm, pulling her back from the brink of a nasty fall with effortless strength.
The close proximity sent a wild jolt of electricity racing through their shared bond.
He gruffly suggested they finish the repairs together, a rare concession that left her momentarily speechless.
Before she could formulate a proper response, a sharply dressed palace guard appeared in their small clearing.
The guard carried an official summons from the palace, demanding Dan’s presence at dawn.
Brenda’s heart hammered in her chest as she watched her husband’s face for any sign of panic.
His expression remained completely unreadable as he calmly accepted the royal command.
He refused to tell her what business the Alpha King could possibly have with a simple woodcutter.
His evasive answers only fueled her growing, gnawing suspicions about his true past.
When he left before dawn the next day, the cabin felt impossibly large and suffocatingly empty.
The mating bond pulled uncomfortably at her chest, protesting the sudden physical distance between them.
She spent the entire day aggressively weeding the small garden, trying to ignore the constant ache.
He returned long after dark, looking utterly exhausted but carrying a significantly larger purse of silver coins.
He dumped the money onto the table, claiming it was for their household expenses.
Brenda demanded to know exactly what he was doing at the palace to earn such a sum.
He vaguely insisted it wasn’t dangerous or illegal, refusing to elaborate further on his duties.
The secrecy drove a massive, frustrating wedge between them just as they had started to find a rhythm.
His visits to the palace rapidly increased from three days a week to five, sometimes keeping him away overnight.
Each prolonged absence stretched the mating bond to its absolute limit, leaving Brenda restless and increasingly irritable.
She found herself pacing the tiny cabin late into the night, her skin hypersensitive and craving his touch.
One evening, after three full days away, Dan finally stumbled through the door looking like death itself.
His clothes were torn, his eyes bloodshot, and he moved with a stiff, unnatural gait.
The tension in the room instantly skyrocketed, the air thick with unspoken accusations and desperate need.
Brenda sharply accused him of caring more about his mysterious palace work than their struggling homestead.
Her harsh words were a defensive shield against the terrifying realization of how much she had missed him.
He stared back at her, his jaw tightly clenched, his eyes dark with a mixture of exhaustion and frustration.
He coldly suggested that she gather more firewood, completely ignoring her pointed accusations.
Something inside her finally snapped under the immense weight of the bond’s relentless torment.
She threw the recent village gossip in his face, mentioning the King’s bounty on a pack of rogue shifters.
She viciously suggested he go hunt them down if he was so eager to spend time away from the cabin.
Dan’s gray eyes narrowed dangerously at her reckless, cruel challenge.
He asked in a low, deadly quiet voice if she truly wanted him to leave her.
Her pride refused to let her back down, and she stubbornly insisted he do whatever he pleased.
Without another word, he gathered his few meager belongings and marched back out into the freezing night.
The heavy wooden door slammed shut, echoing with finality in the small space.
A crushing wave of panic immediately rose in her chest, suffocating the last remnants of her anger.
She sank to the rough wooden floor, burying her face in her hands as the terrible silence settled around her.
Four agonizing days passed without a single sign of Dan’s return.
Brenda alternated between pacing holes in the floorboards and wandering aimlessly toward the village.
The mating bond had devolved into a dull, constant ache that made eating and sleeping virtually impossible.
Desperation finally drove her to the village market, praying for any scrap of news from the northern hills.
The usually bustling square was eerily quiet, the villagers huddled in small, whispering groups.
She approached the local baker, forcing a casual smile that felt entirely grotesque on her face.
She asked if there had been any recent news regarding the rogue shifters up north.
The baker’s face fell into a grim mask as he recounted a horrifying discovery made that very morning.
A traveler had been found violently torn to pieces near the old oak tree at the northern crossroads.
He described the victim as a tall man with dark hair, matching Dan’s description perfectly.
The blood drained completely from Brenda’s face, the world violently tilting on its axis.
The baker reached out to steady her, his accidental touch flooding her mind with his pitying thoughts.
He silently assumed the dead man was her husband, offering a silent prayer for her soul.
Brenda violently pulled away from his grip, shaking her head in fierce, desperate denial.
She stumbled blindly out of the village, her legs carrying her back to the empty cabin on pure instinct.
Collapsing beside the cold hearth, she finally allowed the massive wave of grief to wash over her.
She had sent the man she loved to his brutal death over a petty, stupid argument born of her own insecurities.
She loved his quiet strength, his calloused hands, and the rare, genuine smiles that transformed his rugged face.
She loved how he matched her stubbornness, pushing her to be stronger than she ever thought possible.
A raw, broken sob tore from her throat as she realized she had lost him forever.
She cursed her own foolish pride, crying out to the empty room in absolute despair.
The sudden, sharp sound of the heavy door latch lifting barely registered over her loud weeping.
A blast of freezing air rushed into the room, followed by the heavy thud of boots on the floorboards.
Brenda looked up slowly, her tear-filled eyes struggling to focus on the impossible figure standing in the doorway.
Dan leaned heavily against the doorframe, his face haggard and his shirt stained with dark, dried blood.
A fresh, angry cut marked his strong cheekbone, but he was undeniably, miraculously alive.
He tossed a heavy leather pouch onto the table, the distinct clinking of gold coins breaking the silence.
He casually announced that he had collected the royal bounty she had demanded.
His brow furrowed in genuine confusion as he noticed the steady stream of tears running down her face.
He stepped forward cautiously, asking why on earth she was crying on the floor.
The sheer absurdity of his mundane question snapped the last thread of her fragile self-control.
She screamed that she thought he was dead, her voice hoarse and raw with emotion.
She frantically recounted the baker’s story about the mauled traveler found at the northern crossroads.
Dan blinked slowly, stating the obvious fact that the dead traveler wasn’t him.
His dense, literal response fueled a sudden burst of fiery anger that quickly burned away her grief.
She yelled that he had simply vanished for four days without a single word of explanation.
He calmly reminded her that she was the one who had explicitly ordered him to go hunt the rogues.
Taking another hesitant step toward her, his gray eyes softened with a sudden, profound realization.
He quietly observed that she had been genuinely worried about his safety.
Her voice completely broke as she admitted that of course she was terrified of losing him.
That single, vulnerable admission shattered the last of Dan’s immense, iron-clad restraint.
His eyes darkened violently, his pupils blowing wide as his inner wolf surged to the surface.
He growled her name, the sound rough and possessive as he crossed the room in two massive strides.
Their bodies collided with explosive force, his mouth crashing down on hers with wild, unrestrained desperation.
The mating bond flared like a supernova, a blinding rush of pure, absolute heat that stole her breath.
She moaned into the kiss, her hands frantically clawing at his broad shoulders to anchor herself.
He lifted her effortlessly, pinning her back flush against the rough wooden wall of the cabin.
His lips dragged a blazing trail down her sensitive throat, his breath coming in ragged, harsh pants.
He ground out a warning, telling her to stop him now or he would never be able to pull away.
She gasped, her fingers tangling tightly in his dark hair as she fiercely ordered him not to dare stop.
The kiss resumed, endless and brutal with months of heavily suppressed need and intense longing.
He carried her to the narrow cot, their bodies a tangled mess of tearing fabric and heated skin.
For one suspended heartbeat, their eyes met in the dim light of the cabin.
His gaze was dark and starving, yet incredibly vulnerable and almost reverent.
All rational thought dissolved completely as his mouth claimed hers once more.
The mating bond wrapped tightly around them, amplifying every single electric touch and whispered groan.
When they finally came together, it was with the undeniable force of absolute inevitability.
It was the violent breaking of a massive storm that had been threatening their skies for far too long.
Their wolves howled victoriously through the bond, their souls merging perfectly in the darkness.
They lay tangled in the rough bedsheets for three blissful days, ignoring the outside world completely.
The bounty money guaranteed they wouldn’t have to work for months, giving them time to explore their new connection.
Dan’s arm was draped possessively across her waist, his warm breath fanning gently over her bare shoulder.
She laughed softly, teasing him about his apparent plan to keep her trapped in bed indefinitely.
He agreed it was the best plan he’d had in years, his fingers tracing lazy, soothing patterns along her spine.
The bond hummed contentedly between them, vibrating with a deep, shared happiness that felt entirely foreign.
A sharp, sudden knock at the heavy cabin door violently shattered their peaceful bubble.
Dan groaned loudly, burying his face deeper into her tangled hair and suggesting they simply ignore it.
The knocking resumed, much louder and far more insistent this time.
A stern, familiar voice ordered the beggar to open the door, claiming he was expected at the palace yesterday.
Brenda stiffened immediately, recognizing the authoritative tone of the royal guards.
Dan remained completely unconcerned, his lips finding the soft curve of her neck once more.
The guard loudly announced that the Alpha King commanded Dan’s immediate, unquestioning presence.
Pushing him away slightly, Brenda pointed out that he couldn’t possibly keep a King waiting.
Dan laughed, a rich, genuine sound that vibrated deeply in his broad chest.
He kissed her forehead, promising he would return to her by nightfall before finally rolling out of bed.
He dressed quickly, pausing at the door to shoot her a look of such naked desire that she blushed violently.
Once he was gone, Brenda stretched languidly, taking her time getting properly dressed for the day.
She was just fastening the final button of her simple gown when another hesitant knock sounded at the door.
Assuming Dan had forgotten something, she swung the door open with a wide, welcoming smile.
The smile instantly froze and shattered on her face.
Heather stood on the dilapidated porch, her expensive clothes slightly rumpled and her eyes red-rimmed from crying.
Her sister offered a strained greeting, begging for just a few minutes to speak privately.
Brenda instinctively moved to slam the door shut, but Heather wedged her expensive leather boot into the gap.
Against her better judgment, Brenda stepped back and allowed her treacherous sister into the cramped cabin.
Crossing her arms defensively, Brenda coldly asked if Heather wanted to discuss her secret affair with Craig.
Heather’s chin lifted defensively, a flash of her typical defiance shining through the obvious tears.
She claimed Brenda couldn’t fault her for falling deeply in love with a man she couldn’t have.
Brenda retorted that she was furious about the lies and the humiliating public betrayal, not the romance itself.
Heather’s voice hardened as she revealed the true, ugly reason for her visit.
She bitterly explained that their father had completely excluded her from his final will, leaving her destitute.
Brenda pointed out that she hadn’t known about the will during the wedding preparations.
Heather viciously snapped that Brenda had never bothered to check, blinded by her own perfect, wealthy life.
The lingering anger inside Brenda flared brightly at the unjust, ridiculous accusation.
She stated firmly that she would have gladly shared her fortune if Heather had only asked honestly.
There was absolutely no reason to orchestrate such a massive, humiliating public spectacle.
Heather’s composure finally cracked, genuine tears spilling freely down her flushed cheeks.
She reached out pleadingly, her delicate fingers lightly brushing against Brenda’s forearm.
The physical contact instantly forced Heather’s true, unfiltered thoughts directly into Brenda’s mind.
Heather’s inner voice sneered, predicting that Dan would kick Brenda to the curb once he realized there was no money.
She mentally gloated that Brenda would finally understand true, crushing humiliation.
Recoiling violently from the toxic touch, Brenda stared at her sister in absolute, horrified disgust.
The sheer bitterness and intense jealousy radiating from Heather’s mind was incredibly staggering.
Brenda’s voice dropped to a deadly, icy whisper as she addressed the silent thoughts directly.
She informed Heather that she had, in fact, secured her entire inheritance through a legal loophole.
More importantly, she stated that Dan didn’t care about the money and loved her regardless.
Heather gasped loudly, her eyes widening to the size of saucers in sheer panic.
She realized instantly that Brenda could still read her most private, hateful thoughts.
Her expression rapidly shifted from genuine shock to cold, desperate calculation.
Knowing Brenda had the money, Heather’s tears dried up with highly suspicious, terrifying quickness.
She dropped the facade entirely, demanding that Brenda hand over a portion of the fortune.
She claimed that she and Craig desperately needed the gold to save his failing estate.
She wildly insisted that Brenda owed her this money simply because they shared the same blood.
Brenda looked around her modest, drafty cabin, realizing she wouldn’t trade it for all the gold in the world.
She had found genuine joy and real love in this tiny hovel, something Craig’s money could never buy.
Meeting her sister’s greedy, desperate gaze, Brenda finally found the absolute closure she needed.
She pointed directly at the heavy wooden door, her voice ringing with unquestionable, absolute authority.
She told Heather to leave her property immediately and never, ever return.
Heather sputtered indignantly, threatening to drag Craig down there to force her hand.
Brenda calmly invited her to try, warning that her new husband was highly skilled at dispatching dangerous rogues.
The veiled threat landed perfectly, draining the remaining color from Heather’s panicked face.
Without another word, her sister turned and practically sprinted down the muddy forest path.
Brenda closed the door firmly, sliding the heavy iron bolt into place with a satisfying, final click.
She leaned against the sturdy wood, a profound sense of absolute peace washing over her soul.
The mating bond suddenly flared brightly with Dan’s approaching presence, wrapping her in a warm, protective embrace.
She didn’t need a massive fortune or a glittering palace to be truly, entirely happy.
She had everything she could ever possibly need waiting for her right here in the forest.
THE END
Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.
If you enjoyed this story, read this one: My Boss Tried To Destroy Me — Until A Secret DNA Test Changed Everything
Disclaimer
This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. If you would like to share your story, please send it to [email protected].
