A Stain

Tiara’s POV

If I had known how tonight was going to end, I never would’ve come.

But everyone said it. Everyone said the Mate Festival was magic.

“This is your one shot,” one of the older omegas told me as I was leaving the kitchen earlier today, her wrinkled hands full of dough. “Even girls like you… sometimes the Moon smiles on us. Don’t hide tonight, Tiara. You never know.”

So I didn’t hide.

I even wore a dress.

It’s old, a hand-me-down from a cousin who moved away years ago but it’s white and soft and has tiny fake pearls along the hem. For once I almost felt… okay.

Almost.

But now here I am, standing at the very edge of the clearing while everyone else dances and laughs and cries in each other’s arms. The lights strung between the trees glitter like stars. The air is full of woodsmoke and pine and roasted meat. Music hums low.

Every few minutes, another scream of joy cuts through the night. “Mate! I found my mate!”

And the whole crowd cheers for them.

I keep my head down. Nobody cheers for me.

Nobody even notices me.

I almost decide to slip away when it happens.

The scent hits me first.

Wild pine. Winter wind. Something electric, sharp enough to burn in my chest.

My wolf sits up inside me, ears perked, growling softly. My whole body freezes.

And then I see him.

Ross Voss.

The Alpha’s son. The golden boy. Tall and broad-shouldered with perfect blond hair and eyes like frozen rivers. Even in the crowd, he shines.

And… he’s staring at me.

Me.

My stomach flips. My throat tightens.

Could it—could it really be—?

The pull between us is undeniable. My wolf yowls with joy. I take one shaky step toward him, then another, my heart hammering so hard I think I might faint.

Ross is my mate.

He has to feel it too.

For the first time in my life, I think maybe the Moon Goddess does see me. Maybe even a worthless little omega like me deserves love.

My lips tremble, but I can’t help the shy little smile that curls up as I whisper, “Ross…”

His eyes narrow.

And then… he laughs.

It’s not a happy laugh.

It’s cruel.

It’s sharp enough to make me stop mid-step.

His friends are already chuckling behind him as he walks toward me.

“You?” he says.

I flinch.

He smirks and shakes his head.

“Oh, Moon,” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Tell me you’re joking. This?” He waves his hand at me like I’m a piece of trash. “This is what she gave me? An omega? Pathetic.”

His words slice straight through my chest.

My wolf whimpers low.

“I—” I start, but my voice cracks. “Ross… we’re—”

“Fated?” he spits. “Don’t even finish that sentence. You think I’d claim you? A stain like you? You’d ruin my name. You’d ruin everything.”

The crowd is laughing now. All of them.

“She really thought she had a chance,” someone snickers.

“She’s disgusting,” another whispers.

“Go back where you came from, omega,” Ross snarls.

My eyes sting.

“I… I thought—”

“Oh, I’m sure you thought,” he cuts in. His lip curls. “You thought you’d be somebody, didn’t you? Sorry to disappoint. You’ll always be nothing. You were born nothing, and you’ll die nothing.”

Then his voice turns cold.

“I reject you,” he says, his words like knives. “Here and now. I reject this bond. And don’t you ever come near me again.”

The bond snaps like a brittle thread.

I gasp, clutching my chest. The pain of rejection burns straight through me like fire, but his words hurt more. His laughter hurts more.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t—

I run.

I don’t even know where my legs are carrying me. All I can hear is the laughter, still ringing in my ears, chasing me into the darkness.

I don’t stop running until I slam into the glass window of my favorite comic shop.

I press my palms to the glass, shaking so hard my teeth chatter. My breath fogs the window.

And then I see it.

The new release.

Hockey Star is Obsessed With Me.

The final book.

It’s propped up in the display like it’s waiting just for me.

I push the door open and stumble inside. The bell jingles softly above me.

The clerk barely glances up.

I grab the book off the shelf and drop to the floor, right there in the aisle.

My fingers tremble as I flip to the end. I already know what happens, but I can’t stop myself.

Luke Thorne, the immortal hockey star. The one man who ever loved like he meant it. And the heroine fails him.

I stare at the final panel, my tears dripping onto the page.

“She let him die,” I whisper.

My throat closes.

“She let him die alone.”

I press the book to my chest and sob, rocking back and forth like a child.

“You stupid girl,” I hissed at the heroine. “If I were you, I’d have saved him. I’d have shown him he was worth something.”

My fingers clench around the cover.

“I wish I were you,” I whisper, bitter and broken. “No one will ever love me like Luke Thorne did you. No one. I wish I were you.”

I throw the book across the room.

It smacks the wall and slides to the floor.

Home is hell.

The door creaks open and the smell of cheap whiskey hits me in the face.

My father is already drunk.

“Where the hell have you been?” he slurs from the couch.

I freeze.

“I…” My voice is barely a whisper.

“You think you’re so special now, huh? Walking around in that stupid little dress, thinking some man would want you? You’re nothing. Just like your mother. Nothing.”

I flinch as his hand swings and catches my cheek.

The slap isn’t even that hard, but it still makes me stagger.

“You embarrass me,” he growls, his words thick with drink. “You’re a curse on this house. A stain. You’ll never be anything but a waste of air.”

I can’t even look at him.

I back up, mumbling, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you’re sorry all right,” he mutters.

I bolt to my room and lock the door behind me.

My knees hit the floor, and I finally let myself cry again.

The laughter from the festival. Ross’s cold eyes. My father’s voice.

It all swirls together in my head until I want to scream.

I see the razor blade on my desk.

Just sitting there. Waiting.

Tomorrow, I tell myself.

Tomorrow I’ll end it. I will take my own life.

I’m too tired tonight.

I crawl into bed still wearing the stupid dress, still smelling like dirt and failure and smoke.

I press my pillow over my face and cry until I finally pass out.

When I wake up, everything is… wrong.

The sheets are soft. Too soft.

The air smells like snow and something faintly sweet.

My bed is huge, covered in navy and silver. The walls are painted deep blue, with moons etched into the trim.

I sit up slowly, my heart pounding.

Where—

I swing my legs over the side and stare at the unfamiliar room.

Am I… dead?

The door creaks open.

A low, cold voice cuts through the silence.

“You’re awake.”

I freeze.

Because standing there, in the doorway, with a hockey stick resting lazily against his shoulder and eyes that burn brighter than the moon itself…is…

Luke Thorne.

And he’s looking right at me.