Chosen as the Cursed Alpha's Seventh Bride

Emilia’s POV

"Eve," I reached for my wolf. "Do you know what happened? Why it’s gone?"

She took a moment, and when she answered, she sounded as unsure as I was. "Not exactly. But your reading was bound to the same force that sealed me. The seal broke, I woke, and it went too. They were always one and the same."

"One and the same," I echoed.

I didn’t know whether to grieve or feel relieved. That ability had troubled me, truly. All that noise, always crowding in. And yet it had warned me, protected me, pulled me out of more corners than I could count.

So what just happened? What is all of this?

"Emmy, don’t fret," Eve soothed, softer now. "For what it’s worth, that force was never cruel. Whatever held me, whatever gave you the reading, it was warm. There was no malice in it."

"Emilia?" Sebastian’s voice cut through my panic. He was looking at me with concern, one arm already around my shoulders for the photo. "What’s wrong?"

I forced a smile onto my face, pushing down the shock. "Nothing. Just zoning out. Let’s take the picture."

The stranger snapped several photos of us, and Sebastian thanked him warmly. As the man walked away, I stared at the pictures on the camera screen, barely seeing them.

"Not bad," I said.

Sebastian looked at my face. "Where do you want to go next?"

"The Sacré-Cœur," I said, naming the first landmark that came to mind. "The Sacred Heart Cathedral."

"Okay." Sebastian’s lips curved into a teasing smile. "You’ve never been to Paris, but you sure know your way around."

"That’s what travel shows are for, genius. I might not have your money to fly around the world, but I can watch TV."

"Well, now you have me," he said, pulling me close. "And I’ll take you anywhere you want to go."

The Sacred Heart Cathedral stood on Montmartre, its white domes shining against the Parisian sky. The hill was a maze of winding paths lined with elegant street lights and glowing neon signs. From up here, the city spread out below like a shimmering blanket of romance and history.

Unlike Notre-Dame with its Gothic grandness, Sacré-Cœur felt more... welcoming. Maybe it was the shops and cafés around it filling the air with the smell of fresh crepes and roasted coffee. Maybe it was the street artists scattered along the steps, painting the same view that had inspired countless others before them.

When we finally reached the cathedral entrance, I tugged on Sebastian’s sleeve. "Let’s make a wish."

"Alright," he said, but didn’t move.

I turned to look at him. "What? You’re not coming?"

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "We’re werewolves, Emilia. Shouldn’t you be praying to the Moon Goddess, not the Christian God?"

I rolled my eyes. "Well, I’m here now, aren’t I? Any god willing to grant my wishes gets my prayers. I’m an equal opportunity believer."

Sebastian’s expression softened into something almost fond. "Fair enough."

He let me pull him toward the statue. I pressed my palms together, closing my eyes with pretend seriousness. Alright, whoever’s listening... God, Moon Goddess, anyone really... please give me and the man beside me strength, and let us never be apart for the rest of our lives. Let us grow old together, hand in hand.

I cracked one eye open to peek at Sebastian. His eyes were closed, but there was a slight curve to his mouth that was definitely suspicious.

"Did you make your wish?" I asked when he opened his eyes.

"I did."

"What did you wish for?"

"It won’t come true if I tell you."

I poked his chest. "Come on, I want to know."

He cleared his throat, looking almost embarrassed. "I wished... that whatever you wished for would come true. And that whoever’s up there wouldn’t forget about me along the way."

I stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. "That’s so lazy! You basically passed your wish to me!"

"It’s efficient," he said, pulling me close. "Why waste time when you’ll just wish for both of us anyway?"

"You’re impossible," I muttered, but I was smiling.

By the time we left the cathedral, the sun had set, painting the sky in shades of purple and orange. We found a small restaurant at the foot of Montmartre and stuffed ourselves with real French food. Crispy duck confit, buttery escargot, and pastries so flaky they practically melted on my tongue.

"I don’t want to go back to the hotel yet," I said as we stepped back onto the cobblestone street. "Let’s walk along the Seine."

Sebastian didn’t argue. We made our way down to the river, where the evening lights reflected off the dark water like scattered stars. The breeze was cool and gentle, carrying the faint scent of Sebastian’s cedar and mint that made Eve purr happily.

We walked in comfortable silence for a while, my hand tucked in his. But after about twenty minutes, my throat felt dry.

"I’m thirsty," I said casually.

Sebastian stopped immediately. "I’ll get you some water."

I glanced around at the empty riverbank. "Where? There’s nothing nearby."

"I know a place. Wait here, I’ll be quick."

"Okay."

He started to walk away, then turned back with a look. "Don’t move. If you get lost, I’m not coming to find you."

I waved him off. "Yeah, yeah, go already."

The moment he disappeared around the corner, there it was. The unmistakable sound of electric guitars and drums. Rock music. Live rock music.

My ears perked up. The sound seemed to be coming from somewhere to the east.

Sebastian won’t be back for a few minutes anyway. And I have my phone if he needs to find me.

Following the music, I made my way through a narrow side street and came out into a lively open square. A crowd had gathered around a makeshift stage where a band was performing. Three guys and a girl, all dressed in black leather and ripped jeans.

The lead singer was tall and lean, with long dark hair and a guitar slung across his chest. And he was singing... I’m not kidding... one of my favorite English rock songs.

"No way," I breathed, pushing through the crowd to get closer.

The music was loud and raw and perfect. My head nodded along on its own, a grin spreading across my face. When the song ended, I clapped loudly and reached for my wallet.

Street performers deserved tips, especially good ones.

I pulled out my purse, ready to toss some euros into their open guitar case...

And then a hand shot out from beside me and snatched the wallet right out of my hand.

"Hey!" I shouted. "THIEF! Stop right there!"

The guy was already running, my wallet in his dirty hand. He was fast.

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

I took off after him.