Rejected by the Alpha, Chosen by the King

I had exactly three weaknesses.

The first was my mother's chamomile tea on cold mornings. The second was the smell of pine after rain, that deep, earthy scent that made Silvermoon Pack territory feel like the only place in the world. And the third, the one I would never say out loud, not to my best friend, not to the moon herself was Ethan Caldwell.

Future Alpha. Golden boy.

The most annoyingly handsome man I had ever had the bad luck of growing up around.

I was seventeen years and three hundred and sixty four days old, standing at my bedroom window watching him train in the field below , and telling myself I was absolutely not watching him train in the field below.

Down in the field, Ethan was sparring with two of my father's senior warriors. Older men, experienced, the kind who had seen everything. He dropped the first one in under five minutes. The second took seven. When it was over he wasn't even breathing hard, just raking a hand through his gold hair and laughing at something one of them said.

My chest did that thing. That stupid, embarrassing thing it always did around him.

"Elara!" My mother's voice came from downstairs. "Breakfast!"

I didn't move.

"Elara Voss, if I have to call you one more time.."

"Coming!"

I pulled myself away from the window and looked at my reflection in the mirror.

I had my father's face. That was just the truth of it. Same strong jaw, same sharp cheekbones, same grey eyes that looked like storm clouds when the light hit them right.

On Aldric Voss , six foot four, built like a wall, the most feared warrior in Silvermoon Pack ,those features looked powerful. Commanding. Like someone you did not want to cross.

On me, petite and soft, they just looked a little out of place. Like someone had taken my father's face and shrunk it down without adjusting anything else.

I had my mother's small frame. That was the only thing I got from her.

Everything else , the jaw, the cheekbones, the grey eyes, even the brown hair that curled stubbornly at the ends was pure Aldric.

My brothers though? My brothers had hit the lottery.

Caden and Leo had gotten my mother's dark, almost black hair that sat perfectly without trying. Her stunning blue eyes that made people stop mid sentence when they looked at them. Her bone structure that somehow managed to be both striking and beautiful at the same time.

They were sixteen and fifteen and already turning heads across the pack.

And here I was. Looking like a smaller, softer version of our father and pretending I wasn't bitter about it.

I was a little bitter about it.

"ELARA."

"I'M COMING, MOM."

The kitchen smelled like pancakes and morning and home. Sunlight came through the windows in long warm strips across the wooden floor. My mother was at the stove. Leo was already at the table, working through a stack of pancakes like it was a personal challenge.

"She was watching Ethan again," he said the second I walked in. He didn't even look up.

"I was looking at the trees."

"The trees Ethan was standing in front of."

"Leo."

"I'm just saying what everyone already knows." He finally looked up, grinning. "You go to that window every Tuesday and Thursday. He trains Tuesday and Thursday. It's not a coincidence, Elara."

I sat down and reached over to flick his ear. He dodged it easily and kept grinning.

Caden came in through the back door, boots muddy, hair slightly damp from an early morning run. He looked at Leo. Looked at me. And sat down without a word. That was Caden. He heard everything, said nothing, and somehow made you feel like he already knew exactly what was going on and had quietly formed an opinion about it.

My mother set a mug of chamomile tea in front of me and kissed the top of my head. Liane Voss was everything I wanted to be when I grew up , gentle and steady, the kind of person people came to when they were falling apart. She was the pack doctor. I was going to be one too someday. That had never been a question.

"How are you feeling about tomorrow?" she asked, sitting down across from me.

"Fine."

She tilted her head a little. "Nervous?"

"Fine," I said again.

She smiled. That patient smile that meant she knew I was lying but wasn't going to push. She never pushed. You always ended up telling her anyway, eventually.

"Your father has been preparing for weeks," she said, wrapping both hands around her own mug.

I looked up. "Dad has been preparing for my birthday?"

"Don't tell him I said that. He'll deny it."

Leo laughed. "He made a list. I saw it on the kitchen counter. It had sections."

The thought of my father Aldric Voss, head warrior, the man rogues had nightmares about , sitting somewhere quietly making a sectioned list for my eighteenth birthday did something funny to my chest.

"Eat something," Leo said, pointing at my untouched plate. "You look pale."

"I'm fine."

"You keep saying that."

I kicked him under the table. He yelped. Caden pressed his lips together in that way that meant he was trying not to smile.

For a moment I just sat there, letting it all settle around me. The warm kitchen. The sound of Leo dramatically complaining about his shin. My mother shaking her head with that quiet amusement she had. Caden was stealing bacon from Leo's plate so smoothly Leo didn't even notice.

Tomorrow I turned eighteen.

Tomorrow, like every wolf in Silvermoon Pack, I would finally be old enough to feel my mate bond , if my mate was close enough.

I had spent four months trying not to think about who that might be.

I had spent four months completely failing at that.

I didn't say his name. Not even in my own head. I just looked out the window at the empty training field and the pine trees beyond it and let the hope sit quietly in my chest where no one could see it.

Tomorrow everything changes.

I had absolutely no idea how right I was.