The Lycan's Rejected Mate

Violet:Twinkling lights, music, dancing, I could imagine it all so vividly as my mother tightened my corset.The problem wasn’t that I couldn’t imagine the mating ceremony all day, I could drift in wonder of what would happen if I met my mate. I could daydream, buried in the deepest parts of my mind for hours.The problem was now that the night was here, I had this deep, sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach.“It’s just nerves, Violet,” my mother had said to my graying complexion more than once tonight.But it wasn’t.It was my future, it was my mate, the man who would become my everything in a violent rush of connection designed by the moon goddess herself. I had trained my entire life for this moment, for the time that I was to be the perfect mate. I can cook, clean, serve him wholly and completely in every way… so why was I worried? Why was my stomach sitting at rock bottom with no way back up?“Are you paying attention, Violet?” My mother snapped, her shrill tone pulling me

Violet:The badlands were vast at night, but now that the morning dew had settled, the vastness of the land was wide.My stomach growled, aching with hunger, or maybe it was the memory of the moon goddesses’ words gnawing at my ribs.“We need food… and real shelter… and clothes.” Neoma’s words vibrated against my pounding head.My fingers danced in the opalescent fabric of the dress I had loved so much just weeks ago. Now, the sight of it makes me sick.I left the rocks in a huff. I wanted to break down and cry, crash out and lose control… I wanted to die.“None of that is an option, Violet. Now we get it together. I sense something to the east, get moving, and find us some food and water. If we don’t find sustenance, we won’t make it out here.” Neoma’s thoughts pushed my pity party to the side, and as much as I wanted to wallow in that self-hate, she was right.If we didn’t find what we needed before night fall, we may not make it another night.I headed east, my skirt whipping aroun

Violet:The house was as I expected after being abandoned for three years. Dust lined the shelves, spiders had turned the corners into their perfect homes, and yet… it was all still the same.It had the same wallpaper on the walls, same paint on the ceilings, and the same pictures littering the walls of a family that no longer existed, of a version of myself that was long since dead.I couldn’t help but touch the scar on my eye and compare this new version of myself to the girl in the picture, the one who thought her life would be nothing more than being a housewife to a mate that loved her, and a mother to as many beautiful babies as the moon goddess would bless us with.I threw my fist through that picture, shattering a fantasy I know now was never truly my own. Don’t get me wrong, that vision still sounds amazing. It’s what I have always wanted, it’s what I was raised to be, but now, with these scars, with this rejection… it’ll never be.I walked through every room in this tomb of

Alec:I let her leave and told myself it was a strategy, that her absence was part of the plan. In truth, I needed the distance.The training grounds were still scarred where Russ had fallen, deep gouges carved into the earth by claws that were meant to kill. The others lingered at the edges, pretending not to stare while very clearly doing exactly that. Lycans respected strength, but they feared unpredictability, and Violet Ambrose was both.Russ rolled his shoulder, bone popping softly as it reset. He tested his weight, then snorted. “She didn’t hesitate.”“No,” I said. “She didn’t.” That intrigued me.Most fighters paused at the edge of killing, even the seasoned ones. There was always a breath where instinct argued with conscience. Violet skipped that entirely—not because she was cruel, but because she was precise, methodical.She fought like someone trained to survive, not just to win.“Did you hold back?” I asked.Russ barked a laugh. “I shifted. She didn’t. You tell me.”I watc

Alec:The perimeter was secure. Sentries were placed with precision, wind direction checked twice, scent lines confirmed along the ridge. The fire was low and controlled, shadows flickering just enough to illuminate faces without announcing our presence to the forest. Everything was exactly as it should be.Except Violet.I didn’t feel her.Not clearly.Her shield brushed mine when I reached for her—soft, luminous, closed. Not hostile. Just sealed. I turned slowly, scanning the camp with deliberate calm. She wasn’t near the fire. Wasn’t sitting with Asher. Hadn’t claimed space within the inner ring of warriors where she would have been easiest to guard.My pulse shifted once. Then again.“Russ,” I said evenly, not allowing the edge beneath the word to surface. “Have you seen her?”He shook his head. “Thought she was with you.”Of course he did. The pack had begun to assume that wherever I stood, she would be near. I didn’t know when that pattern had formed, but I felt its absence now