Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King Novel

I'll Never Be His Type ROSE'S POV Four months. It's been four whole months since the morning Damien walked through that door, since the scent of roses and lilies wrapped around us both and changed everything forever. Four months of waking up in his arms, of soft kisses on my forehead before he leaves for work, of him whispering "my queen" against my skin like it's the most natural thing in the world. Four months of being treated like I'm made of glass and gold. He spoils me rotten. Breakfast in bed when I'm too tired to move. Flowers every week-roses and lilies, always.

Jewelry that costs more than I could have earned in ten years as a maid. Dresses that fit me like they were sewn by magic. He even had the staff redecorate half the house just because I once mentioned I liked soft blues and creams. If he could, I swear he'd worship the ground I walk on. And yet... there's this ache in my chest that never quite goes away. A quiet, gnawing fear that sits heavy on my heart no matter how many times he tells me I'm beautiful, no matter how tightly he holds me at night. Because deep down, I know the truth. Damien is way, way out of my league.

He's the brother of the Alpha King. He runs companies that make more money in a day than most people see in a lifetime. He walks into rooms and people stop talking just to look at him. Tall, dark, dangerously handsome, with that quiet power that makes everyone lean in when he speaks. And me? I'm the girl who used to scrub his floors. The girl who wore second-hand clothes and pinned her curls up so they wouldn't get in the way while she dusted shelves. The girl who only ever dreamed of seeing the human town from a distance.

If it weren't for the mate bond-if the Goddess hadn't decided for us-I know I wouldn't stand a chance. He would never have looked twice at me. Not really. He brought me to the human town like I asked, that very first week. Took me shopping, fed me ice cream, held my hand as we walked through streets I'd only ever seen in pictures. I thought it would feel like a fairy tale. But every time we went, I saw it. The looks. Women staring at him like he was the sun. Smiling too wide, Touching their hair. Leaning in too close when they " accidentally" bumped into him.

And then their eyes would slide to me. To the quiet girl holding his hand. 1/4 017 Never To His Type +25 Bonus And I could read every thought on their faces. Who is she? Why is she with him? She doesn't belong here. She doesn't fit. I started wearing the jewelry he bought me like armor. Diamonds on my neck, gold on my wrists. But even that felt wrong. Like I was playing dress-up in someone else's life. Tonight is worse than ever. We're at the grand opening of a new hotel-one of his projects.

The building is stunning: all glass and lights, crystal chandeliers hanging like stars, marble floors shining under soft gold lighting. Everyone here is beautiful, rich, powerful. Women in dresses that cost thousands. Men in suits that fit like they were born in them. Damien insisted I come. "You're my mate," he said this morning, kissing my temple as he fastened a sapphire necklace around my throat. "I want you beside me. Always." I wanted to believe it was that simple. But standing here now, in this midnight-blue gown he picked out for me, I feel like an imposter.

I sip champagne I don't really taste and smile when people talk to me, but inside I'm shrinking. He's across the room, talking to a group of business partners. He looks perfect, of course. Black suit, white shirt, that calm confidence that makes everyone listen. Every now and then, his eyes find me across the crowd, and he smiles-just for me. That soft, warm smile that makes my heart flip. But then she appears. Tall. Blonde. Legs for days. Red dress clinging to every curve like it was painted on. She walks straight to him, bold as anything, and places her hand on his arm.

My wolf growls low in my chest. Get your filthy hands off him. He doesn't move away. He doesn't brush her off. He just keeps talking, letting her touch him, letting her lean in close, laughing at something he says. My stomach twists. I watch her fingers curl slightly on his sleeve. Watch the way she tilts her head, lips close to his ear. And he doesn't stop it. Maybe he doesn't even notice. Or maybe... maybe he likes it. 2/4 O1 Ll Never Be His Type +25 Bonus Maybe he misses women like her. Women who belong in this world.

Women who know how to flirt and charm and stand beside a man like Damien without looking like they're trying too hard. Women who aren't former maids wearing borrowed confidence. The ache in my chest flares into something sharp and burning. I can't breathe right. The room feels too loud, too bright, too full of people who know I don't belong. I set my glass down on a passing tray and slip away before anyone notices. Outside, the night air hits me cold and clean. I wrap my arms around myself, the silk of the dress doing nothing against the chill. My eyes sting, but I blink hard. No crying.

Not here. I spot our driver near the valet stand and walk over quickly. "Take me home," I say, voice steadier than I feel. He glances toward the entrance. "But Miss Rose, Master Damien-" I glare at him. Hard. He swallows whatever he was going to say and hurries to open the back door. I slide in without a word. The door shuts with a soft thud. As the car pulls away from the glittering hotel, the lights blur through the window like falling stars. I stare at my reflection in the dark glass. Sapphire necklace gleaming. Perfect hair. Perfect dress. Perfect lie.

And one thought circles in my mind, over and over, louder with every street we pass. I will never be the type of woman Damien needs. 3/4 Editorial Board Editorial Board Our editorial team works behind the scenes to refine each chapter, maintain consistency, and deliver the best reading experience.