The Alpha's rejected mate

The Invisible Girl

POV: ELARA VANCE

​The kitchen of the Blackwood Pack house smelled of roasted venison, rosemary, and the sharp, metallic tang of unwashed dishes. To anyone else, it might have smelled like a feast. To me, it smelled like exhaustion.

​"Move it, Runt!"

​I didn’t flinch when the hip checked me into the industrial steel counter. I just gripped the tray of champagne flutes tighter, my knuckles turning white, and stepped aside. It was Jessica, a mid-ranking delta female who derived a sick sort of pleasure from making my life miserable. She had realized long ago that I wouldn’t fight back. I couldn’t fight back.

​"The Alpha wants these on the west terrace immediately," Jessica snapped, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder. "Try not to trip over your own feet. We don’t need you embarrassing the pack. Again."

​"Yes, Jessica," I whispered. My voice was rough, like gravel grinding against glass. I hadn’t used it in hours.

​I kept my head down, my eyes fixed on the cracked floor tiles. It was the first rule of survival I had learned since my parents died in the border skirmishes ten years ago: Look down. Be invisible. Survive.

​At twenty-one years old, I was an anomaly. A mistake. Most wolves shifted by sixteen. When my sixteenth birthday had come and gone without a single bone snap or growl, the pity in the pack had turned to scorn. By eighteen, I was demoted to Omega—lower than Omega, actually. I was the "Wolfless." A genetic dead end. A waste of resources.

​I picked up the heavy silver tray and pushed through the swinging doors, leaving the suffocating heat of the kitchen for the cool, electric atmosphere of the ballroom.

​Tonight was the Blood Moon Ball. Every unmated wolf from the Blackwood Pack and three neighboring territories was here. The air was thick with pheromones—musk, pine, rain, and floral scents swirling in a dizzying cocktail. To a normal human, it would just smell like a crowded party. To a wolf, it was a sensory overload of lust and dominance. Even without a shift in form, my nose was sensitive enough to make my head spin.

​I moved through the crowd like a ghost. Silk gowns brushed against my tattered grey servant’s uniform. Laughter rang out, sharp and biting. I wove between the bodies, holding my breath, praying no one would notice me.

​"Is that the Vance girl?" a deep voice rumbled to my left.

​"Don't look at her," a woman giggled in response. "It’s bad luck. Imagine if the Moon Goddess paired you with a defect like that."

​I swallowed the lump in my throat and focused on the terrace doors. Just deliver the drinks. Then hide in the library until dawn.

​I reached the terrace, the cool night air biting at my exposed arms. The moon hung low and heavy in the sky, painted a deep, bruising crimson. The Blood Moon. Legend said it was the night the strongest bonds were forged. For me, it was just another night to be reminded of what I wasn’t.

​"Finally," a cold voice sneered.

​I froze.

​I knew that voice. It haunted my nightmares. It was the voice that had mocked my lack of shifting, the voice that had ordered me to clean the mud from the training grounds with a toothbrush while the others watched and laughed.

​Kaelen Blackwood. The future Alpha.

​I turned slowly, offering the tray, keeping my gaze lowered to the level of his chest. "Your drinks, Alpha Kaelen."

​Kaelen stood by the stone railing, looking like a dark prince from a storybook. He was six-foot-four of pure muscle, dressed in a tuxedo that strained against his broad shoulders. Next to him stood Zara Thorne. She was draped in red silk that clung to her curves, her hand possessively gripping Kaelen’s bicep.

​"You took too long," Kaelen said, reaching for a glass.

​His fingers brushed mine.

“​Spark.”

​It wasn't a static shock. It was a lightning bolt.

​The world tilted on its axis. The tray slipped from my hands.

​”CRASH.”

​Crystal shattered against the stone. Champagne splattered onto Kaelen’s polished shoes and Zara’s expensive red dress. But I didn’t hear the crash. I didn’t hear Zara’s shriek of outrage.

​My world had narrowed down to the man standing in front of me.

​A scent hit me—dark chocolate, burning wood, and fresh snow. It was the most intoxicating thing I had ever smelled. It filled my lungs, my blood, my very soul.

 My inner being, usually so quiet I doubted it existed, suddenly slammed against my ribcage, waking up with a roar.

​”MATE.”

​The word screamed in my mind. It wasn't a whisper; it was a command.

​I looked up, my breath hitching. I saw Kaelen freeze. His pupils blew wide, swallowing the amber iris until his eyes were almost black. His chest heaved. He felt it. I knew he felt it.

​For one beautiful, terrifying second, I thought the universe had finally shown me mercy. I was the mate of the future Alpha. My suffering was over. I would be protected. I would be loved.

​"Kaelen?" Zara’s voice broke the trance, shrill and grating. "She ruined my dress! Look at this mess!"

​Kaelen blinked, shaking his head as if waking from a dream. He looked down at me. The shock in his eyes began to fade, replaced by a dawning horror. Then, cold, hard fury.

​He stepped back, wiping his hand on his jacket as if my touch had contaminated him.

​"No," he whispered.

​My heart stuttered. "Kaelen?"

​"No!" He roared it this time, the sound echoing across the silent terrace.

​The music inside seemed to stop. Guests began to crowd the doorway, sensing the Alpha dominance pouring off him in waves. It was suffocating.

​He grabbed my arm. His grip wasn't a lover's caress; it was a shackle. He dragged me roughly from the terrace, through the crowd, and into the center of the ballroom.

​"Kaelen, you're hurting me," I gasped, stumbling to keep up with his long strides.

​He threw me away from him. I slipped on the polished floor, landing hard on my hands and knees in the center of the room. Hundreds of eyes stared down at me.

​Kaelen stood over me, his chest heaving, his face twisted in a snarl. Zara hurried to his side, looking confused, until she smelled the air. Her eyes widened, and she let out a cruel, mocking laugh.

​"Oh, this has to be a joke," Zara said loudly. "The Runt? She is your fated?"

​Murmurs erupted in the hall. The Wolfless? A mistake. A tragedy.

​I looked up at Kaelen, tears welling in my eyes. I wanted him to help me up. I wanted him to claim me. "Kaelen, please..."

​"Silence!" Kaelen’s voice used the Alpha Command.

​It slammed into me, a physical weight that clamped my jaw shut and forced the air from my lungs. I choked, unable to speak, unable to breathe.

​He looked around the room, ensuring everyone was watching. He needed to show strength. He needed to show that he wouldn't be chained to a weak link, not even by the Goddess herself.

​He looked down at me, his eyes devoid of warmth.

​"I, Kaelen Blackwood," he began, his voice booming like thunder, "Future Alpha of the Blackwood Pack..."

​I shook my head, pleading silently. “Don't do this. Please don't do this…”

​"...reject you, Elara Vance, as my mate."

​The words were a physical blow. I felt something inside my chest—the golden thread that had just formed, the only beautiful thing I had ever possessed—snap violently.

​Pain, white-hot and blinding, tore through my body. I screamed, curling into a ball on the ballroom floor as the bond shattered. It felt like my soul was being ripped in half. I clawed at my chest, trying to stop the bleeding, but the wound was inside.

​Through the haze of agony, I heard Kaelen speak one last time, his voice cold as ice.

​”Get her out of my sight. If she is still on pack land by sunrise... kill her.”