Chapter 2 The Rejection

Sienna

A bit of morning light cut peered through the cabin’s blinds, illuminating soft stripes on the rumpled sheets at the foot of my legs.  I rolled over, filled with weariness that lingered in my body, the smell of cedar and smoke buried in the cushions—Ronan’s smell, now a part of me.  My wolf purred, such a nice, warm hum inside my chest, filling me up with joy I’ve never felt in my life before. 

Last night was everything: his hands on my hips, his lips on mine, his growled declaration that I belonged to him. My heart expanded again, the mate bond glowed stronger and more absolute, and I was connected to him in a way I had never anticipated. I was an omega, a nobody from a dying pack, and yet with him, I felt complete. 

With a yawn, I stretched, letting a lazy smile curl my lips, and lifted a hand to him, anxious to see his gray eyes, to be pulled close by his warmth again. The bed was empty. My hand stilled, the hum from my wolf stuttering. I turned, my breath catching. 

Ronan stood across the room, his thick body stiff against the window, dark hair mussed and clothed in dark slacks and a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up; he looked like he was stepping into a boardroom. His hair was dark and slicked back, his jaw taut, not the hungry man who’d come apart in front of me last night. My wolf stirred, excited, but the silence crept into my chest, fading the warmth of the bond.

“Ronan?” My low voice was hushed, hopeful, lost, and as I sat up, the sheet clutched to my breasts, for the first time noticing how tangled my hair was, my warm skin marred by our passion from the night before. He turned, and my heart sank. His eyes that had once burned with passion were cold, impenetrable, shooting me down with humiliation. 

“About last night,” he said, his voice dead, stripped of any warmth, “it was nothing.”  I was momentarily breathless. My inner wolf whined, a sharp, pained noise reverberating in my thoughts. Nothing? How could he say that? The bond throbbed in my breast, naked and demanding, telling me he was mine, that it was meant.

“What?” I managed to choke out, my voice cracking as I moved to the other side of the bed, allowing for the sheet to slip.  My hands shook, my pulse beat in my ears. 

“Ronan, what do you mean? We’re mates. And I felt it — you felt it as well, didn’t you?” My wolf rose up, frantic, her sureness fighting the doubt I imagined in my heart. I looked for the man who had kissed me so passionately, who growled my name so needing and loudly. He froze, his jaw tightening as a muscle ticked in his cheek. And he growled, in a voice low and cruel. 

“I feel nothing for you.  Whatever your wolf thinks it felt—that it did not feel. You don’t belong in this world.” My wolf howled; the sound seemed to tear through my head, pain twisting in my chest. I cried silently,   I shook my head my voice barely heard tears stinged my eyes. 

“No. You can’t mean that. Last night—you promised that I was your own. You held me—”

“Out,” he barked, his voice hard, eyes unwavering. “Leave, Sienna. Now.”  My legs trembled as I heard my heartbeat. "Ronan, please," I begged, a step forward, my hand stretched out, willing him to take it, to tell me. “Tell me why. What did I do wrong? I thought—”

"You thought wrong," he cut in, his voice icy now as his eyes glanced over me with disdain. “Don’t make me say it again. Go.” My wolf whimpered in submission. Tears ran down my cheeks as I stood there naked, reduced. I’d handed him everything I had — my body, my heart, my trust — and he chose to throw it back in my face.

I fumbled for my clothes, my hand shaking so hard I could hardly get on my jeans, my hoodie, my sneakers. The tears made the room blurry, the smell of cedar was overpowering, it was mocking me and my stupidity. “I don’t get it,” I mumbled, to myself at least as much as to him, my voice breaking as I tugged my hoodie zipper up. 

“I felt it. I know I did.” He didn’t answer, didn’t focus on me, just turned from the window, his shoulders tensed and a silent wave of dismissal rolled off of him. I ran out of the cabin, the door slamming behind me, the noise of it echoing in the stillness. 

The grounds of the estate were silent; the full moon party was winding down, the gravel paths bare but for a few wolves loading cars, their eyes bright with interest. I felt my phone buzz in my pocket—probably Derek, pissed off that I’d disappeared last night—but I couldn’t look at him, I couldn’t face anyone. 

I ran, slowly at first, panting with the effort, my sneakers crunching the gravel beneath my feet, past the rows of guest lodgings where my pack’s van was parked and the sleek SUVs, past the manicured lawns, through the estate’s iron gates. 

I made my way to a bus station, a neon sign flashing over a concrete lot. My hands trembled as I searched for my wallet, wondering for how long, buying a ticket to anywhere, my sight blurred by tears. I got on a bus and slid into a seat by the window, wrapping my hoodie tightly around me. 

My wolf was still, her warmth vanished and all that was left was the pain from the bond, raw and pulsing. I watched the city go by — the high buildings, the twinkling billboards, the morning traffic hum — and my heart shattered. He’d said that I was nothing, that I didn’t belong. And I believed him, the shame searing.