Every alpha generation must have a Saint, an omega chosen by the Moon Goddess to carry the cub, the heir of the world. When the last saint vanished, the curse fell on me.
I am not a saint. I am a fake saint, bound to a duty I never asked for, and forced to walk among alphas assigned to guide me, claim me, and guard me.
Their eyes are all on me, each filled with desire, obsession, hunger… and each one willing to do whatever it takes to make me theirs. And among the circle of them, one shadow stands colder than the rest, the alpha whose hands destroyed my family, whose cruelty made me an orphan. 
The Moon Goddess demands obedience.  But my body and heart burn with a dangerous defiance, and I will not bow to prophecy… not to them, not to fate.

I woke up to the faint sound of fabric rustling and someone whispering very close to my bed.


"Does he always sleep this peacefully?" Someone asked in a hushed, overly dramatic tone.


"Only when he hasn't fainted the day before." Came Rose's deadpan reply.


I groaned, burying my face into the pillow.


"You all have no sense of privacy,"I said.


A chuckle low, warm came from right beside me.


"I tried to make them leave." Zavier murmured, brushing a thumb across my jaw. "They said the seamstress demanded a dawn fitting. I said no. The Goddess said yes."


Of course she did. When I finally peeked one eye open, the fitting room was once again a battlefield of ribbons, jewels, and floating divine light. The seamstress had returned alive, energetic, and already armed with her army of assistants.


"Oh, my prince!" She gasped dramatically. "You're awake! You fainted so elegantly yesterday, like true royalty! Now, up! Today, we bring glory to fabric!"


Chapter 43 - 43. Father's chosen ring stones