Page 1 of Claiming His Rejected Mate

Chapter 1

Hazel

“You heard about the Moonfang’s lead warrior, right?”

Jerrod, a lean, wiry wolf from my pack, tilts his head toward Rhyne, our troop leader.

“I’ve heard plenty,” Rhyne grunts, the sharpness of his jawline matching the edge of his clipped tone. He leans casually against his spear. “They say he’s practically feral in the ring. Kieran’s best.”

“Nothing a regular Nightclaw won't blow out the ring,” I add with a chuckle.

“You know it,” Jerrod agrees with a shoulder nudge, and we chuckle.

“Isn’t the Alpha himself here?” Gareth, Gamma’s right hand, chimes in. He’s younger than others who have previously filled the position. He’s ambitious and less subtle than he thinks.

“Of course, he’s here.” Rhyne twists his lips and looks around. “Wouldn’t be an alliance negotiation without Moonfang parading their top dogs.”

“Look, I learned something that could work when I shift…” They start talking about their wolves, and I sigh. Yet another conversation I can’t be part of.

The sparring pit bustles with energy, the tang of metal from polished swords mixing with the heady scent of the trees surrounding the clearing. Warriors from packs all over the region mill around, loud, jumpy, and boisterous. The only reason this is possible without the wolves going fang for hide is because of the neutral territory treaty. That is the only way the once-in-a-decade alliance negotiation event can take place.

Different group circles discuss things I cannot relate to, like having a wolf. My heart thuds in time with their chatter as I shift my weight from one side to the other, trying to focus. I’m stuck with the serious guys. I guess I was part of the serious guys because I never could talk about things like having a mate or fantasizing about one. Seeing as, well, I don’t have a wolf to mate yet.

Their banter fades into a dull hum as I step back, the earth crunching beneath my boots. It’s not that I’m uninterested in the politics of this event; I just don’t feel like I belong. Everything they say about their wolves, strength, and power reminds me of what I don’t have. My wolf, my so-called other half, is nothing more than a ghost inside me. A late-bloomer, the term they all whisper like it’s a curse.

I look into the gathering, taking note of the powerful members from every pack. They’re proud, towering wolves, their presence a mixture of dominance and grace. My stomach tightens. Even here, where I should be proud to stand among Nightclaw’s warriors, I feel like an outlier.

I’m barely taller than five foot seven and don’t have a wolf. I’m not as muscular as the others in my troop, and I have no friends. Being the Nightclaw Gamma’s only child was pressure enough. Being the child no one expected me to be, that’s even worse. Wolves don’t know how to hide pity.

“You all right, Hazel?” Jerrod always checks in on me and notices when I’m staring into the distance and not listening.

“Fine,” I lie, brushing him off with a smile.

But I can’t stay here. Not when every laugh and comment feels directed at the void inside me, the space where my wolf should havebeen. I take another step back, then another, until the murmurs fade and the fresh scent of water lures me deeper into the forest.

The stream marks the boundary between our territory and neutral ground. It’s where the alliance negotiation events are held. It sparkles in the midday sun. I crouch by the edge, running my fingers over the cool surface, the rippling water a balm for my frayed nerves.

That’s when I feel a shift in the air. It’s barely there, but I can’t deny the electric thrum in the air.

I turn and my breath catches.

A wolf stands down the stream, its fur a rich, deep grey that gleams like steel in the sunlight. It’s massive, its eyes a piercing blue that locks onto mine with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken. My instincts scream at me to look away, but I can’t. There’s something in that gaze. It’s familiar, magnetic.

Neither of us moves. The air between us crackles with an energy I’ve never felt before, an almost tangible force that tugs at the edges of my mind.

I blink, and the wolf is gone. Its lithe form vanishes into the trees as if it were never there. My heart pounds in the sudden stillness. The appearance of the wolf, those eyes, both are burned into my mind, and I want to chase after it, see where it’s gone, but I force myself to my feet, brushing off the dirt on my pants. I can’t afford to get distracted. Not now.

I’m one of the warriors who will be sparring today, and I must be on my game. Being the high-ranking pack runt would be even more embarrassing if I lost during my first public sparring match.

When I return to the sparring pit, the crowd has swelled, the energy crackling with anticipation. I push my way through, my shoulders brushing against warriors twice my size. My chest tightens when I see the Alpha booth at the far end of the clearing.

And then I see him.

Sitting there, his posture regal yet relaxed, is the man whose wolf I saw moments ago. I know it’s him. Those eyes are unforgettable, framed with thick brows. The left brow has a scar that runs down to his cheek.

His human form is just as mesmerizing as his wolf. He’s a beautifulman with hair that flows over his shoulder in the gentle breeze. He’s seated, but I can tell he’s tall and imposing. He’s the kind of tall that dominates whatever space he is in.

His broad shoulders and muscular arms show how formidable a fighter he is. He’s not burly or bulky. He’s just pure lean muscle. Something stirs inside me just looking at him. It’s like the world is still. It’s just me and him. I look at the tag for his booth. It reads: Alpha Kieran of the Moonfang pack. His piercing blue eyes sweep over the gathering before they rest on me. The moment our gazes lock, the world tilts.

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