Chapter 1: Marriage, Mockery, and Midnight Confessions

I was born with a wild streak. Curves, confidence—the whole package.

From the time I could toddle, people said I was trouble with a capital T. Always the girl with a sly grin, a little too bold for Sunday school, a little too quick to laugh at things I shouldn’t. Guess I never did fit in. My grandma used to shake her head and mutter, “That girl’s got fire in her veins.”

After my family lost everything overnight, I wound up in a sham marriage with my childhood fiancé—the boy next door I’d known since we were kids.

It happened so fast, like a tornado blowing through. One day I was sipping sweet tea on our porch. Didn’t see it coming. The next, my dad was packing up what little we had left, and my life turned upside down. The only lifeline was Eli, the boy who used to toss pebbles at my window and dared me to jump the fence into old man Carter’s yard. Now, somehow, he was my husband on paper.

On our wedding night, he looked at me, cheeks flushed.

“I swear, ma’am, you’re out of my league. Wouldn’t dare cross that line.”

His voice was so earnest it almost made me laugh, but the tremor in his hands told me he meant every word. The room smelled faintly of cedar and the cheap cologne he’d splashed on for the occasion. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, and I could see the tips of his ears burning red.

My knees went weak. Worried my secret cravings would show, I wasn’t letting him touch me. Not tonight.

My heart pounded. Loud enough, I thought, to wake the dead. I turned away, clutching the sheets like a lifeline, praying my wild side wouldn’t betray me. The silence between us was thick, awkward, almost humming with things neither of us dared to say.

Embarrassed, I called him indecent—then, out of nowhere, words lit up in the air—like my life had a live audience.

[This side character is so clueless. Doesn’t she get that the rough-around-the-edges werewolf is totally her type?]

[Girl, your so-called ‘problem’ would be a bonus for him.]

[Girl, have you seen his abs? That boy could bench-press you.]

It was like the universe was heckling me, right there in my own bedroom. The words hovered and danced, taunting, as if some invisible peanut gallery was watching my every move. My cheeks burned hotter, and I pressed my lips together to keep from blurting something reckless. God, I wanted to say something. Anything.

Shaken, I fumbled with my camisole.

“Don’t… it’s not clean down there.”

My voice was barely above a whisper, and I hated how small I sounded. But Eli just stared, eyes wide, like he’d never seen a woman undress before. The air between us hummed with energy, the tension prickling at my skin, thick enough to taste.

We lost ourselves in each other all night. The next morning, everything hurt. Rubbing my sore back, I muttered, “Now I know the difference between being pampered and being worn out.”

I’d always thought the phrase was just something old ladies said to newlyweds, but now I knew it was gospel truth. Turns out, they weren’t lying. My body ached in places I didn’t know could ache, and I couldn’t help but smile a little, even as I winced.