Page 9 of Claiming His Rejected Mate

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she defends, her voice trembling now. “I’ve done nothing...it’s what I came to talk to you about. I think we—”

“How could I feel a wolf within you if everyone in your own pack knows you as his wolfless runt? What sort of sorcery is that? You must be a skilled liar to pull off such deception.”

Her brows scrunch together as if confused again. If she's playing tricks on me, she's awfully good at it.

“I am not wolfless. Not anymore. You're right. My pack sees me as the wolfless runt because my wolf took her sweet time. But she's here. She has awoken.”

“I don't believe you!”

“You saw me fight in that pit. You felt my wolf back there in the woods. You know the truth, Kieran!”

“Liar,” I snarl, the word tasting bitter even as I say it. “Get out.”

She takes a step closer, her scent enveloping me once more, and I hate how much I want to believe her. My wolf howls in protest, his fury directed at me now, but I force him back. “You have to believe me. I am your Ma—”

“This bond means nothing,” I say, the words cutting into me as much as they cut into her. “You mean nothing. I never want to see you again.”

Her breath catches, and for a moment, her composure slips. Pain flashes across her face, raw and unfiltered, before she masks it again.

“Is that what you want, then?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. “You sought me out. And now, that makes me the bane of your existence? Have it as you wish.” Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears. The sight carves a hole in my chest, but I stay frozen, rooted to the spot as I watch her leave.

My wolf is screaming now, his rage and anguish echoing in my mind. Go to her. Fix this. She’s ours. Ours.

But I can’t move. The weight of my responsibility feels like a weight bearing down on me, suffocating and inescapable. I’ve sacrificed too much for my pack to let this bond jeopardize everything. I’ve had to build this pack from scratch and nothing. Not even this Goddess-blessed bond will ruin it.

I stand there with my heart thrumming with pain and regret. I tell myself I’ve done the right thing.

Chapter 4

Hazel

I had just returned to Nightclaw when the emergency pack meeting was called.

The crowd parts as I walk toward my father, Magnus. Their murmurs buzz like flies around my ears, following me like a cursed shadow. They grow louder with every step, a relentless tide of judgment, but their words are drowned out by the searing agony consuming me. My Mate rejected me.

Kieran rejected me.

The thought slashes through me like a blade, sharp and unyielding. My wolf is pacing restlessly within me, her anguish raw and unrelenting. The bond we had barely begun to understand feels shredded, each thread frayed and snapping under the weight of his rejection.

I had wanted to speak with him, to tell him that we could work even though we're from different packs. That I wanted to be his Luna, that we could work it out. But I was a stupid, silly girl to think that it could ever work.

Mate. He’s our Mate, my wolf growls, her voice trembling with pain.

But he doesn’t want us.

The heat burns hotter in my veins. My muscles are stiff with need, my core tight with an all-consuming ache that makes it hard to breathe, let alone walk. I grit my teeth, forcing my legs to move. The warrior in me—the part of me that refuses to show weakness—takes over, carrying me forward with my head held high, even as my heart shatters with every step, even as the world blurs with each second.

I tighten my jaw, forcing one foot in front of the other, my back ramrod straight even as every step feels like a battle. When I reach the head of the crowd, Magnus is waiting. His broad shoulders are stiff, his face set in that stern, disapproving glare I’ve seen too many times.

“You embarrassed us,” he says before I even come to a stop. His voice is low but cutting, meant only for me.

Beside him, my mother, Elara, watches with a softness that feels like a knife to my ribs.

“Explain yourself,” he demands, his voice carrying over the crowd’s murmurs.

“Magnus,” my mother, Elara, murmurs from his side, her voice soft, pleading.

Standing before them now, I notice that my mother stands a step behind him, her hands folded in front of her. Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see nothing but sympathy there. But it only makes the hollow ache in my chest deepen.

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