The Moon Flame Mate

My Boyfriend Rejected Me in Front of Everyone  

Nora

I should have known something was wrong the second Roland shoved me into the center aisle of Ravenholm’s grand dining hall.

A hundred pairs of eyes locked onto me.. Everyone sitting at the long tables turned like vultures scenting blood.

“Roland?” My voice was barely a squeak. I tried to pull back, but his fingers dug into my forearm. “What are you doing? Let go of me. Everyone is watching.”

“Good,” he said. “Let them watch.”

He let go so hard I stumbled back, catching myself on the edge of a bench. The guy who had kissed my forehead before morning class, who had whispered promises into my hair just last night, was looking at me like I was dirt.

“I’m done, Nora,” he announced to the entire room.

My chest caved in. “Done? Done with what?”

“With you. With this pathetic little charity case of a relationship.” A cold smirk twisted his lips. “I am sick of dragging dead weight around Ravenholm. Look at you. You’re a half-blood with zero family backing, no status, and nothing to offer a future pack lieutenant. Did you honestly think I was ever going to take you home to my family?”

A low wave of cruel laughter rippled through the hall.

My cheeks burned. My hands shook. I stood frozen, trying to find a joke, a prank, anything that would make this nightmare make sense.

“Roland… please,” I choked out. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because he’s tired of hiding what’s actually his,” a sweet voice purred from the crowd.

My stomach dropped.

Ivy walked out from behind the high-table pillars, swaying her hips. Ivy. My best friend. The girl who had shared my dorm room for two years, who had braided my hair this morning, who had stayed up with me until three in the morning listening to me stress about passing my shift trials.

She stopped right beside Roland and slid her arm through his.

Then she tapped her collarbone with one manicured finger.

Dangling against her skin was a silver pendant shaped like an arrow through a wolf’s claw.

My lungs stopped working.

“You…” I pointed a trembling finger at the necklace. “Roland gave that to you? He said… he told me it was a family heirloom his mother lost.”

Ivy let out a tiny laugh. “Oh, honey. He didn’t lose it. He gave it to me three months ago in the west wing garden. Right after he told me he couldn’t stand the smell of your cheap soap anymore.”

Three months.

They had been sleeping together behind my back for ninety days while Ivy looked me dead in the eye and called me her sister.

The laughter from the hall grew louder. People were nudging each other, grinning, watching me fall apart.

“Don’t look so shocked, Nora,” Roland sneered, leaning down into my face. “Everyone at Ravenholm knows the truth. You’re an orphan from a disgraced, dead bloodline. You’re lucky anyone even looked in your direction. You should be down on your knees thanking me for wasting my time pretending you were worth something.”

Something snapped.

The shame burned away into rage.

Before my brain could stop my hands, I stepped into his space and swung.

Smack.

The sound of my palm hitting his cheek cracked through the hall like a gunshot.

Roland’s head whipped to the side. The entire room went dead silent. Nobody breathed. An unranked half-blood had never laid a hand on a third-year elite.

“I would rather die alone and rot in a ditch,” I spat, “than beg a lying, cheating bastard like you to touch me ever again.”

Roland’s face flushed purple. “You little bitch—”

His hand shot out, clamping around my wrist, squeezing until the bones ground together.

I opened my mouth to scream, but the sound never came out.

A sudden, agonizing heat tore through the skin right beneath the hollow of my throat.

It felt like someone had shoved a white-hot branding iron against my flesh. I gasped, dropping to my knees as the fire spread through my chest.

I ripped my arm out of Roland’s grip, my fingers clawing at the collar of my uniform.

Beneath the linen, the skin pulsed with light.

A silver crescent-shaped mark burned through the fabric, glowing bright enough to cast shadows across the floor.

A chair scraped violently against the raised dais at the back of the hall.

Then came the crash of flipping backward, smashing into the wall.

Every head snapped toward the high table.

Sebastian Moon Flame was on his feet.

The future Alpha of the Moon Flame Pack. The golden boy of Ravenholm.

He was trembling. His chest heaved in ragged gasps, his hands braced against the tabletop so hard the wood splintered. His eyes—normally icy blue—flashed molten gold. The wolf inside him was clawing at the surface.

“His mark…” someone whispered. “The future Alpha… he’s reacting.”

“He found his mate.”

“No way. Not her.”

Alexandra HowlBorne, the high-born Lycan heiress sitting beside him, grabbed his sleeve. “Sebastian, stop! Look at what she is! Sit down!”

Sebastian shoved her hand off hard enough to send her sprawling back into her chair. His eyes locked dead on mine.

He walked toward me like an executioner.

Every step made the floorboards vibrate. People scrambled over benches and knocked plates off tables just to get out of his path. Roland backed up three paces, his arrogant sneer vanishing, replaced by terror.

Sebastian stopped right in front of me.

He looked down at me like I was a curse. Without a word, he reached out and closed his fingers around my wrist.

The moment skin touched skin, the bond detonated.

A violent shockwave ripped out from between us. The nearest tables flipped sideways. Glasses shattered. Roland and Ivy were thrown backward into the crowd.

I couldn’t breathe. My soul felt tethered to the beast pacing behind Sebastian’s eyes.

I looked up into his face, expecting triumph.

Sebastian looked completely horrified.

The color drained from his skin. His golden eyes were wide, fixed on the burning crescent on my neck with a sickness so deep it looked like he was about to vomit.

“No…” he whispered, his voice cracking. “No. It can’t be you.”

“What?” My voice broke. “What are you talking about?”

Before he could answer, the double doors at the main entrance blasted open.

“So she’s alive.”

The voice cut through the ringing in my ears. Cold. Smooth. Lethal.

Standing in the arched doorway, flanked by four royal guards in midnight armor, was Zane Vale. The Vampire Crown Prince.

His crimson eyes swept the mess on the floor and locked straight onto mine.

And he froze.

The immortal prince looked like he had just seen a ghost. All the blood drained from his face.

In that split second, a memory slammed into my head so hard my knees nearly gave out.

Run, little bird. Don’t look back.

The voice from that night. The night the manor burned. The night my mother’s blood ran cold on the cobblestones.

It was his voice.

Zane snapped his gaze away, his jaw clenching. He spun on his heel toward his guards. “Get me out of here. Now.”

“Wait!”

I scrambled up from the floor, ignoring Sebastian’s burning grip, ignoring the hundred students staring at my glowing neck. I lunged forward until my fingers caught the fabric of Zane’s sleeve.

He stopped dead. The guards reached for their hilts, but Zane held up a single hand.

He slowly turned his head to look at me over his shoulder.

“How do you know me?” I demanded. “Who are you?”

Zane didn’t look at my face.

His crimson eyes dropped to my hand gripping his sleeve, then traveled up to the burning silver crescent on my collarbone.

A hollow sorrow flickered across his features before his mask of ice snapped back into place.

“Because,” he whispered, so softly only I could hear, “I watched you die.”