Bullied by my Alpha Mate

The first time Lisa heard the word mate whispered about her, it sounded like a joke.

Not a cruel one, not yet. Just one of those half-breathless murmurs passed between girls in the training yard, too soft to be called gossip and too sharp to be innocent.

She ignored it alway.

At Black Moon Pack, ignoring things was a survival skill.

Ignore the stares when you arrived late to breakfast because you’d been working your butt out in the healer’s den until dawn.

Ignoring the mockery when your practice blade slipped from your hand in front of the other wolves.

Ignoring the way higher-ranked pack members looked through you, as if you were smoke instead of flesh and blood.

And above all, ignore the Alpha’s son.

Adrian Thorne.

He was impossible not to notice, which was probably why Lisa tried so hard. He had the kind of presence that bent a room around him before he even spoke. Tall, broad-shouldered, blue ocean -eyed, with that cold, effortless confidence that only belonged to people who had never once had to wonder where they stood. Future Alpha. Golden boy. The one everyone looks up.

And the one who seemed to hate her the most .

Lisa ducked beneath the training fence just as the morning bell rang across the pack grounds. Wolves were already gathering in the clearing, boots crunching over frost-hardened dirt, their breath white in the cold autumn air. The sun had barely risen, and the whole mountain smelled of wet pine, smoke, and coming snow.

She kept her head down and moved toward the practice racks.

“Look who finally decided to show up.”

The voice hit her before she reached them.

Adrian leaned against one of the posts, arms crossed, his two closest friends at his side. Robert gave her a lazy grin she didn’t trust, while Mira only watched in silence, her grey eyes cool and unreadable.

Lisa stopped.

“I’m not late,” she said.

Adrian tilted his head, pretending to consider it. “No? That’s funny. Could’ve sworn training started when everyone else got here.”

A few nearby wolves laughed.

Heat rose in Lisa’s face, but she forced herself not to react. “I was working.”

Adrian’s mouth curved, though there was no warmth in it. “Right. Of course. Always the hard working one.”

He said it like an insult.

Maybe in Black Moon, it was one.

Lisa reached for a wooden practice staff, but Adrian’s hand landed on it first.

Their fingers didn’t touch.

Still, a strange jolt went through her so suddenly she nearly flinched.

Adrian stood still.

For half a second, something changed in his expression. The mockery vanished. His jaw tightened. His eyes locked onto hers with a sharpness that made the clearing seem to fall away around them.

Then it was gone like it was there .

His face hardened into something even crueler than before.

He yanked the staff free and tossed it aside into the muddy ground.

“You don’t need to use that one,” he said.

Lisa stared at him. “And why is that ?”

“Because I said so.”

A few more laughs.

Her stomach twisted.

There it was — the thing she hated most. Not just his meanness. Not just the humiliation. The way he made cruelty look casual, easy, almost boring. As if cutting her down was no more effort than breathing.

She bent to pick up the staff from the grounded anyway.

Adrian stepped on it before she could reach it.

“Didn’t you hear me?” he asked softly.

That was worse than shouting. Adrian only used that voice when he wanted everyone to lean in.

Lisa slowly straightened. “I heard you.”

“Then listen better.”

Trainer Raymond’s voice cracked across the clearing before she could answer. “Enough.”

The crowd shifted at once. Adrian stepped back without argument, hands raised slightly as if he’d done nothing at all. Lisa hated him for that too — how easily he could slide back into obedience when it suited him.

Raymond stalked toward them, scarred face grim beneath his beard. “Pair off.”

A groan rippled through the younger wolves.

Lisa moved quickly, hoping to end up with someone forgettable, someone who would rather get through the hour than make her miserable. But before she could reach the far side of the yard, Doran barked, “Thorne. Lisa. Together.”

Silence snapped through her.

Of course.

Adrian smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile.

The others backed away, eager for the entertainment.

Lisa took her place opposite him in the center ring, pulse thudding hard enough to hurt. Someone tossed her another practice staff, Adrian spun his own lazily in one hand, completely at ease.

Raymond looked between them. “First to disarm.”

Adrian’s eyes never left Isla’s. “Try not to fall too fast.”

The command was given.

Lisa struck first.

Not because she thought she could beat him — she wasn’t stupid — but because hesitation would only make it worse. She lunged forward with a sharp diagonal swing. Adrian blocked easily, the crack of wood on wood ringing through the yard. He moved with infuriating control, barely shifting his feet, barely trying.

She swung again. He parried.

A murmur rose from the watching wolves.

Adrian knocked her staff wide, stepped in, and caught her off balance so neatly it felt rehearsed. Lisa stumbled, regained herself, and came at him harder, anger and embarrassment burning through her .

For one brief second, she saw surprise flicker in his eyes.

Then he smiled again.

And swept her legs out from under her.

She hit the dirt hard enough to lose her breath.

Laughter burst around the ring.

Lisa pushed herself up on one elbow, humiliated fury rushing hot behind her eyes.Adrian stood over her, not even breathing hard.

“You telegraph every move,” he said.

Raymond didn’t call the match. Didn’t tell Adrian to step back. Just watched.

Lisa got to her feet, mud streaking her palms and knees.

“Again,” she said.

the laughter around them faded immediately .

Adrian studied her for a moment. Then he twirled the staff once and nodded. “Fine.”

This time he came at her first.

He was fast. Faster than anyone had a right to be. Lisa blocked the first hit, barely, then the second, then the third, each impact shivering all the way up her arms. He was pushing her backward now, driving her toward the edge of the ring while the others watched in hungry silence.

She knew what they saw: the future Alpha sparring with the pack stray. A show. A lesson. A reminder of everyone’s place.

Adrian struck low, then high.

Lisa ducked the high hit by instinct, pivoted, and managed to clip his shoulder.

A real hit.

The yard went still.

Adrian froze.

Lisa did too.

It hadn’t been hard, but it had landed.

Something dark flashed across his face.

Then, before she could even reset her stance, he slammed his staff against hers with enough force to rip it from her hands. The wood flew into the dirt several feet away.

“Done,” Raymond barked.

The noise returned all at once.

Adrian stepped close enough that only she could hear him.

His voice dropped low. “Don’t do that again.”

Lisa swallowed. “Do what? Touch you?”

His eyes burned strangely at that — angry, yes, but something else too. Something tighter. More dangerous.

“Don’t forget yourself place ,” he said.

Then he turned and walked away while the others crowded around him, clapping his back, laughing, praising the match as if he had won something glorious.

Lisa stayed where she was for a second too long.

Her hands were shaking.

Not from the fight. Not entirely.

There had been a moment when their staffs locked, when he grabbed her wrist to twist the weapon free, when that same strange jolt had surged through her skin — hot, sharp, almost electric. She had felt it in her chest, in her ribs, like her body had recognized something her mind refused to name.

And judging by his expression earlier, he had felt it too.

No, she told herself.

No.

But as the pack dispersed and Adrian laughed with the others, he glanced back once.

Just once.

The look on his face was not triumph.

It was fury.

That frightened her more than anything.

Because Lisa knew bullies. She knew mockery, humiliation, contempt. She had lived with those things long enough to read them at a glance.

But this?

This felt different.

Like Adrian had decided something the moment he looked at her — and whatever it was, he hated her for it.