Maeve: Marked By Blood, Chosen By Fate.

Maeve.

The fifth rejection burned worse than the first, and still, the bond refused to break.

“I, Johan Sullivan, Alpha of the Blue Moon pack, reject you as my mate.”

The words cracked through the air like a whip, but the pain that followed was sharper. It cut into my veins, set my nerves ablaze until bile clawed up my throat. I swallowed it down with the same grit I swallowed everything else. If I threw up, I’d only earn myself another floor to scrub.

The bond should have snapped, but instead it coiled tighter. Wilder. Hungrier.

I felt him—his breath, his wolf—like it had all just begun again.

Johan’s mouth thinned into a line, his frown deepening. He turned sharply to his beta.

“Why is this happening?”

Roy hesitated. “Alpha… it’s the fifth time.” His disbelief was carved into every word. “I never thought something like this was possible.”

Neither had I.

“Maybe…” Roy tried, voice low, “maybe you should accept her.”

“Moon goddess forbid it,” Johan spat. His gaze snapped to me, colder than steel.

“This? This omega is supposed to stand beside me?”

I was used to pain. Hunger gnawing my stomach when meals were withheld. The sting of lashes when I failed to scrub well enough.

But none of it compared to this—the pain that coiled in my chest when he looked at me like I was filth.

“I won’t be mated to someone who scrubs floors for dinner.”

The words didn’t sting like a bee. They stung like truth. Because a part of me—foolish, weak—had wondered if the bond meant I could mean more to someone.

He stepped closer, shadow swallowing the rug.

“What did you do?” he growled.

“What spell? What curse?”

“I didn’t—” I tried.

“Stop.” His voice cut like a blade. “Don’t lie.”

Roy shifted uneasily, pulling out his phone. Fingers tapped, a message sent.

“I’ve notified the High Priest. He’s on his way.”

Minutes stretched, the silence thick. Johan’s eyes never left me. Like I was the reason his world had shattered.

The door creaked open. The priest entered, bowing.

“What troubles the Alpha that you summon me on a full moon?”

Johan’s voice was raw, scraped out of his throat. “The mate bond won’t break. Five times I’ve tried, and it only snaps back.”

The priest’s gaze flicked between us, something dark stirring in his eyes.

“Then tonight,” he said, “under the full moon, I will sever it myself.”

Johan exhaled hard, shoulders sagging as though freed.

Me? I felt nothing. No relief. No escape. Only dread curling in my stomach.

If the bond wouldn’t die on its own, then the priest would kill it for us.

The priest wasted no time. He laid out bowls, herbs, something black and foul-smelling that burned my nose.

His voice droned in chants, low and heavy, while Johan stood tall, like this was nothing more than business.

I, on the other hand—my knees wouldn’t stop trembling. My stomach churned like I was about to vomit again.

“Drink.” The priest thrust a cup toward Johan first.

Johan didn’t hesitate. He lifted it and swallowed, his throat moving in one sharp line. Not a flinch. Not a blink.

Of course. He always made it look easy.

Then the priest shoved the second cup into my hands.

The stench made bile rise instantly. My fingers shook, and for a stupid, dangerous second I thought about throwing it back in his face.

But Johan’s eyes caught mine—narrowed, hard, daring me.

He’d love that, wouldn’t he? For me to prove I was nothing. For him to call me a coward.

So I locked my jaw, tipped the cup, and swallowed. The liquid scorched all the way down, like drinking ash and knives.

I gagged, coughed, and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. My chest burned.

“Now,” the priest said, voice rising with command, “say the words.”

Johan went first, of course. His tone was sharp, practiced.

“I, Johan Sullivan, Alpha of the Blue Moon pack, reject you as my mate.”

Then it was my turn.

My lips trembled. My whole body shook. But I forced the words through.

“I… I, Maeve. Omega. With no rank or name, reject you as my mate.”

For one moment—nothing. Silence.

Then the pain came.

Not like before. No, this wasn’t the ache of rejection. This was claws tearing me open from the inside. A ripping, savage agony that didn’t stop, didn’t ease.

I screamed. The sound tore out of me before I could stop it. My knees buckled, and I hit the floor hard, my breath breaking in jagged bursts.

I could hear Johan’s breath too—rough, fast—but when I looked up, he didn’t flinch. He just watched. Cold. Proud. Like this was what he had been waiting for.

“It’s done,” he said. His smile—small, cruel—cut deeper than any knife. “Finally, I’m free.”

But then—he stiffened.

Johan’s hand flew to his chest, his breath catching sharp like he’d been stabbed. His eyes shot to me—wild, disbelieving.

And I felt it too.

The bond. It was still there. No. Stronger. Wilder. Wrapping tighter around my ribs until I couldn’t breathe.

The priest froze mid-chant, his staff trembling in his hands.

“No…” he whispered, voice breaking. “No. Not possible.”

His eyes widened—too wide—like he was staring at a ghost.

“She’s one of them.”

My blood iced over. My whole body shook.

“One of what?” Johan snapped.

The priest’s lip curled back like he’d tasted poison.

“One of the Lunari.”

And just like that, I wasn’t just an unwanted mate—I was something far worse.

The word Lunari hung in the air like a curse.

Johan’s jaw tightened. Roy’s face darkened.

The priest’s voice cracked, his eyes burning with disgust.

“They’re witches. Wicked. They never let go of their mates. They cling and rot them from the inside until the wolf dies. Until the man dies.”

“No.” My head shook before I could stop it. “No, I’m not—I’m not like that.”

“Silence!” the priest bellowed, his staff slamming against the floor.

My chest heaved, my throat raw. “I would never hurt him! I’d never—”

Johan’s gaze cut through me like a blade. He didn’t believe me. He never had.

“There is only one way,” the priest hissed, eyes wild, “to end this bond. Kill her. Kill the witch.”

The word kill shattered the air. My knees nearly gave out.

“No—please!” My voice cracked. Pathetic. Broken. “Spare me. I’m not a witch. I swear, I swear on the Moon goddess herself—”

Johan’s face softened. Just for a breath. Just for a blink.

And then it was gone.

“Seize her.”

The guards lunged from the shadows. Hands like iron clamped around my arms.

“No! Stop! Please!” My voice shredded itself. I fought, thrashed, but their claws dug deep.

Pain. Panic. Fire.

Something inside me snapped.

The guards screamed first.

A blast ripped out of me, hot, violent. Fire, light—something raw and terrible. It tore them off me, sent their bodies crashing to the stone.

I staggered, gasping. My body shook. My hands shook.

What did I do?

Johan froze, his eyes locked to mine. And for one impossible moment—I saw it. Not rage. Not hate. Something else. Something that stole the breath from my throat.

Then it vanished. His mask slammed back in place.

“Hold her down!” His voice cracked sharp as steel.

But before the guards could move again, the priest’s staff clattered to the floor.

His face—white as death. His lips—trembling.

“Moon goddess…” His voice rasped, broken. “She’ll be the death of us all.”