PART ONE
CHAPTER ONE
The Night I Was Rejected**
The moon chose cruelty the night I turned eighteen.
It rose full and bright over Blackridge Pack, washing the stone courtyard in silver light and expectation. Wolves gathered in ceremonial silence, their breaths misting the cool air, eyes sharp with anticipation. Tonight was the Mating Moon—the night fated mates revealed themselves.
The night my life was supposed to begin.
I stood barefoot at the edge of the circle, fingers clenched in the fabric of my simple white dress. No jewels. No rank markings. Just me—Ayla, the healer's orphaned niece. Omega-born. Powerless, according to everyone who mattered.
Except my wolf.
He's here, she whispered inside me, trembling with hope. I feel him.
So did I.
The pull had been there all evening—tight, aching, undeniable. Every breath I took tasted like pine, smoke, and something darker. Alpha scent.
Alpha Ronan Blackwood.
Golden-eyed. Ruthless. Heir to the Blackridge throne.
The man who had never once looked at me with anything other than cold indifference.
Until tonight.
The drums fell silent. The Pack Elder stepped forward, staff striking stone.
"Let the bonds reveal themselves."
A hush fell.
The pull yanked hard.
My head snapped up.
Across the courtyard, Ronan stiffened.
Our eyes met.
The world tilted.
The bond slammed into place—hot, violent, undeniable. My wolf surged forward with a cry of recognition, joy, and hunger so fierce my knees nearly buckled.
MATE, she howled.
Gasps erupted around us.
I took one step forward.
Ronan took one step back.
The sound was louder than thunder.
His jaw tightened. His golden eyes hardened, stripping away whatever flicker of surprise had crossed his face.
"No," he said.
One word.
Sharp. Final.
The bond screamed.
"I reject her."
Silence shattered into whispers.
I stared at him, my ears ringing. "Ronan…?"
"I will not accept an omega as my mate," he said coldly, voice carrying across the courtyard. "This bond is a mistake."
Pain tore through my chest like claws.
The Elder's staff struck the ground. "Alpha Ronan, rejection carries consequences—"
"I accept them," Ronan snapped. "Break it."
My wolf screamed as the words were spoken—ancient words meant to sever fate itself.
Agony ripped through me.
I fell to my knees, gasping, as the bond shattered like glass inside my soul. Something vital tore away, leaving behind a hollow so deep I thought I might die in it.
Ronan turned his back on me.
And just like that, I became nothing.
CHAPTER TWO
The Omega Who Would Not Break**
They expected me to crawl.
That was the worst part.
They expected tears, madness, submission. Expected me to wither under the weight of a broken bond—a fate known to drive wolves insane.
But I didn't break.
I survived.
The days after the rejection blurred into cold mornings and long nights. I was moved from the healer's quarters to the edge of the pack lands, to a crumbling cabin meant for those no one cared to see.
Whispers followed me.
"Rejected."
"Cursed."
"Unfit."
Ronan never came.
Not once.
I learned to live with the ache—a dull, constant throb beneath my ribs where the bond had been. Some nights my wolf whimpered, mourning what we'd lost. Other nights she burned with fury.
We deserved better, she snarled.
She was right.
I trained when no one watched. Ran beyond pack borders. Learned to fight with blade and claw. I studied ancient texts the healers had dismissed—old legends of creatures even Alphas feared.
Lycans.
Kings among wolves. Not bound by pack law. Not bound by weak fates.
I thought they were myths.
Until the night the forest bowed.
CHAPTER THREE
The Lycan King Arrives**
It began with silence.
No insects. No wind.
The forest stilled as if holding its breath.
I was returning from the river when the air shifted—heavy, electric. Every instinct screamed danger.
Then he stepped from the shadows.
Tall. Broad. Power rolled off him in waves so strong my knees weakened. His eyes were molten silver, ancient and assessing. His dark hair fell loose over shoulders marked with scars that told stories of wars older than memory.
A crown of black metal rested against his temple—not worn, but claimed.
Lycan.
King.
My wolf froze.
MATE, she whispered—soft, reverent, terrified.
I staggered back. "That's impossible."
The Lycan King's gaze locked onto mine.
The bond ignited.
Not shattered. Not broken.
Whole. Complete. Devastating.
"You were rejected," he said, voice deep as thunder over mountains.
Shame flared. "I was."
His lips curved—not in mockery, but promise.
"Good," he said. "Then you are free to be claimed."
The forest knelt.
And so did fate.
CHAPTER FOUR
Claimed by the King**
"I don't belong to you," I said, even as my heart thundered.
The Lycan King stepped closer. Each step bent the air, bent me. "No," he agreed calmly. "You belong to yourself."
My breath hitched.
"My name is Kael Varyn," he said. "Lycan King of the Northern Dominions."
I swallowed. "Why me?"
Kael's gaze softened—just slightly. "Because you survived what should have destroyed you. Because your strength called to mine. Because fate tried to discard you… and failed."
The bond surged, powerful and steady.
"Accept me," he said—not a command. A choice.
For the first time in my life, I chose myself.
"I accept."
The mark burned onto my skin—silver fire wrapping my wrist like a crown.
Far away, Alpha Ronan screamed.