Page 32 of Claiming His Rejected Mate

I make my way to the control room. If she’s telling the truth, then Eldon’s claims don’t add up.

“Damon,” I say as I step inside, my voice sharp.

He looks up from the monitor, his expression wary but alert on my command. “Yes, Alpha.”

“Dig deeper into Eldon’s movements,” I say. “I want to know exactly who’s been near his base. Every name, every detail.” There’s something going on, and I’ll find out just what it is.

Chapter 10

Hazel

It’s been an hour since Kieran left. The scent of blood and sweat fills the air as I stand in the middle of the room, my breathing ragged. The crimson dress Kieran approved is slashed in different places. My hair has slipped out of the intricate style the Omega had put it in, and my eyes are feral. The two guards sent to drag me to Kieran lie unconscious by the door, their bodies crumpled in awkward positions. They’ll wake soon, but not before I find a way out.

My wolf paces restlessly, her growls low and simmering beneath my skin. I can feel Kieran within the estate. His presence is like a ticking time bomb, taking over my mind. Over my body. Eldon will kill me out there. But Kieran can also kill me within his estate. I’m not safe anywhere.

And now he expects me to face Eldon—to wear his bruising arrogance like a crown.

No. Not again.

I move quickly, grabbing a shard of glass from the broken vase I’d used to take out the second sentinel. It’s sharp, its edge catching the dim light as I grip it tightly in my hand. The plan is simple: fight my way out before Kieran can humiliate me further.

The sound of boots echoes down the hall, growing louder with each step. My heart pounds in my chest, but I don’t waver. It’s Kieran. If he’s coming for me, I’ll be ready.

The door swings open, slamming against the wall, and there he is.

Kieran steps inside, his presence filling the room. His black shirt clings to his chest, his sleeves rolled up, exposing forearms tense with barely restrained power. His sharp blue eyes lock onto mine, and I feel the warmth of heat settle in my core. He makes me hot, even in this state. My body thrums with electricity at just his gaze.

“What have you done?” His eyes don’t reflect the annoyance he feels.

“I’m not going with you,” I snap, my voice shaking with fury.

He takes a step closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like he’s approaching a cornered animal. “Who told you that it makes a difference what you say?”

“You think you can control me?” I growl, my wolf snarling in agreement. “Not on your life.”

His wolf growls, and I know he’s about to come at me, but I’m already moving.

I lunge at him, aiming the glass at his side, but he’s faster than I expect for his size. He dodges in one smooth, practiced motion, his hand snapping out to grab my wrist. The force of his grip sends the shard clattering to the ground, but I twist, using the momentum to break free and deliver a sharp kick to his ribs.

He grunts, stumbling back a step, but he doesn’t fall.

“You’ve been training,” he says, his voice edged with something almost like respect.

There’s nothing else to fill my time while I’m locked up here. So, every morning, afternoon, night, I’m training. Just like at the Omega quarters. Just like at the barracks. He won’t take my life away from me.

I don’t respond. Instead, I close the distance between us, my fists flying. He blocks the first punch, then the second, his movements fluid and precise. But I won't stop.

For every strike he counters, I find an opening, a crack in his defenses. My size and speed work to my advantage, and for a moment, I believe I can slip away from him and make it for the door.

I duck under his arm, spinning behind him to deliver a sharp elbow to his back. He stumbles again, and I seize the opportunity, tackling him to the ground.

He lands with a thud, his body tense beneath mine as I pin him down.

But then he moves.

With a quick, brutal twist, he flips us over, his weight pressing me into the floor. My breath catches as his hands pin my wrists above my head, his grip firm but not painful. I don’t know why I believed I could pin him down. His weight on me is firm. Strong muscles press down on me. I've made him break a sweat, and it drips down on me. My face is warm with his breath.

The ache in our bond connection pulls at us. I feel it, and I know he can feel it too. I feel the heat in my hips, the craving to feel his mark on me. His neck pulses with his rich blood, his musk enveloping me. The tension between us is almost unbearable.

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