Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King

(Hilda)

“Hilda, as soon as we return, I’ll make you my Luna.” 

This is what my mate Alpha Soren told me before we went to the battlefield together.

“Hilda, you are the only one I ever want. You are the only Luna for me.” 

This is what he said before I was losing consciousness in his arms.

He frowned and held my drifted gaze, repeating his promise solemnly.

But I woke to the scent of herbs and betrayal.

Not from wounds or war, but from watching Soren place the Luna crown on another’s head.

***

The first thing I see is Soren, standing stiffly by the window, arms crossed, jaw tight. 

Soren towered over most men, his tall, broad frame a commanding presence forged by years of battle and leadership. 

He looks every inch the Alpha he was born to be.

I can’t help but beam at the sight of him. 

Knowing he’s here and safe makes my heart leap. 

We grew up together, training side by side, sharing our dreams and ambitions. 

I’m his mate, his Beta, his equal and he’s always been my rock.

We’ve loved each other for as long as I can remember.

“Hi baby,” I whisper weakly, waiting for him to take my hand and kiss me. 

But then he just looks at me.

Not with relief. Not with love.

Just a quiet, awkward pity, like I’m a problem he hoped would stay buried.

His eyes meet mine with something that’s not relief or joy, but something colder. 

Guilt. Pity. Distance.

Not love. Not the way it used to be.

My heart sinks. Something is terribly wrong.

His hair is longer, his face harder, but it’s the way he won’t reach for me that chills me.

“You’ve been in a coma for a year now,” he tells me gravely.

I stare at him, my mind struggling to process his words. 

A year? 

That never happens to werewolves. We heal fast, or we die. 

I have a feeling there’s more to his hangdog expression than me having lost a year of our life together.

“What else?” I ask, reading him as easily as I always have. 

“The bond...” He swallows, unable to meet my eyes. “When you were injured, it broke. I felt it go.”

The ache in my chest confirms it. 

That thread, once electric, unbreakable, is gone.

And worse, I don’t feel it pulling back to life, even now.

Still, I try.

“We still love each other, surely the bond will come back now that I’m conscious?” I say, a bitter laugh catching in my throat. 

Then a woman enters. Soft-footed. Pretty. Perfectly timed.

She is petite, with flawless proportions that seem sculpted rather than born. 

Her honey-blonde curls spill down her back in soft, bouncing waves, catching the light with every graceful step. 

Her eyes, large and luminous, are the color of clear water, it’s calm, untroubled, and impossible to read.

She’s everything I’m not at this moment. 

Radiant, fresh, composed.

And now this princess is taking Soren’s hand as if they’ve done it a thousand times.

“Who is she?” I ask, though the answer is already clawing its way through my gut.

He glances at the woman beside him before returning his gaze to me. “This is Cerelia. She’s my second chance mate.”

His words hit me like a physical blow. 

I feel the air leave my lungs, and my vision darkens at the edges.

“How?” I ask plaintively. 

“After the battle, we suffered heavy losses. I went to her pack to secure a ceasefire. We met there and the bond formed.”

I expect Cerelia to look triumphant, smug, proud. 

But instead, she walks toward me with that same irritating calm, as if she’s the better person.

“Hilda,” she says, her voice maddeningly soft, “I know this must be overwhelming. We didn’t want you to find out like this. I asked Soren to wait before announcing the Luna coronation. Out of respect for you.”

Respect.

I nearly laugh. It comes out as a cough.

She keeps going, clasping her hands like some tragic figure offering peace.

“I know what you meant to this pack. What you meant to him. I never wanted to take anything from you.”

No. Of course not.

She only took my mate. My place. My future.

Cerelia lowers herself to the chair beside my bed like we’re friends. 

Her eyes are wide, too earnest, and her perfume is too sweet.

“I just want us to coexist,” she says gently. “This pack doesn’t need more division. And I don’t want to be your enemy.”

I stare at her, my lips twitching into the beginning of a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “You don’t want to be my enemy?”

She nods, so sincere it makes me nauseous.

“I’ve done everything I could to be kind about this,” she adds. “I understand what you’re going through.”

That’s it.

“You understand?” I echo, venom sharpening my voice now. “You understand what it’s like to wake up and find your entire life hijacked? Your mate bonded to someone else? The Luna title I bled for, handed to a stranger because I was unconscious?”

Cerelia blinks, taken aback, but she doesn’t retreat. “I didn’t choose this, Hilda. The Moon Goddess did. Just like she chose you, once.”

“Don’t quote the Goddess to me,” I snap. “You think smiling sweetly and playing the humble mate makes this easier? You think I don’t see what this is? You’re here to look noble while I’m expected to fade quietly.”

Her lips tighten slightly. For a moment, the mask cracks — not much, but enough.

“I’m trying to be compassionate,” she says. The softness is still there, but now it’s tinged with steel. “You’re angry. I understand that.”

“Stop understanding me.”

I turn away, can’t bear to see her. Her perfect calm, her patient eyes, her place at my mate’s side.

“I didn’t ask for your sympathy,” I mutter. “And I don’t want your friendship.”

Cerelia’s hand touches my arm, and I jerk away. 

I don’t want her pity. 

I don’t want her perfect voice or her perfect sympathy. 

I want my mate. 

And I want him angry or guilty or wrecked, not this calm shell sitting beside her like I never existed.

“Please,” she says softly. “I hope we can coexist.”

I meet her eyes, see nothing but shining empathy reflected back at me, and I hate her more for it. 

Because she means it. Because she thinks she’s being kind.

I want to scream. 

I want to rip the Luna crown off her head before it ever touches her.

But instead, I nod.

Finally satisfied, she walks to Soren’s side, and just like that, she’s his partner. His Luna.

Cerelia rests a hand on his arm, and I see the flicker of guilt in his eyes before he turns away.

That’s fine. Let him look away. Let her act kind.

Soren starts to drone on about pack duties, about a “place” for me: some quiet corner of obscurity while she sits beside him at every council, every ceremony. 

A new era, built on my bones.

He made his choice.

And now I have to make mine.

But one thing is certain: I’m not disappearing. And I’m not going to play the noble ex.

They wanted me to fade quietly into the past. But I’m awake now.

And I don’t forgive them.

Not him.

Not her.

Not even fate.