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The Rejected Omega's Bastard Heir

The Rejected Omega's Bastard Heir

Werewolf
last updateLast Updated : 2026-08-07
By:  Jubilee MooresUpdated just now
Language: English
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Synopsis

Dark Romance

Drama

Steamy

Omega

Slave

Brave

Hate to Love

Love-Triangle

Pregnant

For fifteen years, Trishelle has been nothing more than “Trash” to the Bloodmoon Pack. Born without a wolf, abandoned as a pup, and forced to live as a servant in the pack house, she learned long ago that omegas like her are meant to suffer quietly. The worst of her tormentors was Alpha James, the powerful Alpha who gave her the cruel nickname that everyone still uses. But something changes. Suddenly, the Alpha can’t stop watching her. He notices the smile he never cared to see, the curves hidden beneath her oversized clothes, and the scent that drives his wolf mad. The more he tries to ignore her, the more obsessed he becomes. Then one reckless night changes everything. When Trishelle discovers she’s carrying a child, the pack brands her unborn baby a bastard heir. Humiliated, betrayed, and rejected once again, she walks away from the only home she has ever known. Years later, she returns no longer as the broken omega they mocked, but as a woman who has risen from the ashes with a son powerful enough to shake the werewolf world. And Alpha James is about to learn a devastating truth: the child he cast aside is his heir… and the omega he never claimed may be the mate he can never win back.

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22 Chapters
Cold Water
Trishelle's POVThe basement stayed cold year-round. Fourteen years sleeping on that shitty mattress, and Trishelle knew every crack in the concrete that leaked freezing air, every spot on the ceiling that dripped when it rained. She'd given up on the cold around the same time she'd stopped thinking anyone would fix the busted vent.She wasn't really asleep. Three hours of half-rest, one ear always listening - that's all this house ever let her have.The door at the top of the stairs banged open.Boots. Two pairs, heavy on the wood. And underneath, the slosh of a full bucket.Before she could sit up, the water slammed into her.Not just cold - violent. It punched the air from her lungs and made everything go white. Trishelle jerked off the mattress, gasping. The blanket was soaked through. Her hair plastered dark and wet across her face.Laughter echoed down the stairs. Easy, careless laughter from men who'd never been on the receiving end."Rise and shine, Trash."She shoved her hair
last updateLast Updated : 2026-07-09
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The Alpha's Kitchen
Trishelle's POVHis voice wasn't loud. It never had to be. James Black had never needed volume to make a room bend around him. He just stood there, and it bent.Trishelle set the knife down with exaggerated care, the way you handle something you might throw if you're not careful. She turned. Dropped her eyes to the center of his chest and kept them there, because eye contact from someone like her meant challenge, and she'd learned that rule before she'd learned how long to proof bread."My apologies, Alpha James," she said. Steady. Flat. "The bread needs time to rise. Full breakfast will be ready before training ends."She didn't look up. Didn't need to. She could feel him staring at her, that particular weight his attention always carried, like a hand hovering just above her skin without ever quite touching it."You smell like the floor."The words landed exactly where he'd aimed them. Heat crawled up her throat into her ears and she hated that her body still bothered being embarrass
last updateLast Updated : 2026-07-09
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Stolen Hours
Trishelle's POVThe laundry room was off limits. No permission, no entry. Simple as that.It was one of those quiet cruelties that made sense if you didn't think about it too hard. Four omega women ran the laundry, all ranked just above her, and they'd made it clear without ever saying a word that anyone crossing into their space was challenging their spot in the pecking order. In a hierarchy this rigid, rank was all anyone really owned. The gap between their position and hers was the only high ground any of them had.She got it. She didn't even blame them, not really. What she understood, and what none of them ever seemed to think about, was that she had nowhere left to fall from. There was no rank under hers to protect.The warriors wouldn't be down for another hour. Training still had forty minutes left by her count, and the senior omegas slept until they heard boots on the porch. The training clothes were about to show up. If she timed it right, she had a window.She took it.Her
last updateLast Updated : 2026-07-09
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What the Basement Doesn't Know
Trishelle's POVBy the time the sun dropped behind the tree line, Trishelle had been on her feet for sixteen hours.She ran the final kitchen check the way she always did, the way she'd taught herself to survive: no wasted motion, no resentment, because resentment cost energy she couldn't afford to burn. She wiped down surfaces. Shut off equipment. Started tomorrow's bread and covered it, then tucked it on the bottom shelf of the fridge for a slow overnight rise. She scrawled the prep list for breakfast on the little whiteboard nobody else ever bothered to read.Then she went down to the basement.Her things were dry. She folded them with the kind of care that only makes sense when you own so little that every piece matters. She made up her mattress with the clean sheet and lay down in the dark, listening to the pack house settle above her.Laughter drifted down from an upper floor. A door closed somewhere. Music thumped faintly through walls thick enough to turn it into something alm
last updateLast Updated : 2026-07-09
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The Lake
Trishelle's POVThe kitchen garden existed somewhere between maintained and abandoned.It stretched along the eastern wall of the pack house, a long strip that caught morning sun and afternoon shade. The herbs thrived, but the vegetable beds at the far end had gone to hell where bindweed crept in from the tree line. Trishelle had been fighting that bindweed for two years now. A slow, quiet war nobody noticed and nobody gave a shit about. She pulled the pale wiry stems out of the dirt whenever she found ten spare minutes, because if she didn't, the stuff would choke out the tomatoes and runner beans. Then she'd have a whole new problem.She was on her knees between the bean rows on a Tuesday afternoon when she realized something strange.She had the grounds to herself.That was rare enough to register. She ran through what it might mean before she trusted it. Training had ended for the day. The afternoon duties had scattered the pack across the buildings and outbuildings that made up B
last updateLast Updated : 2026-07-09
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What the Wolf Wants
James's POVHe hadn't meant to end up at the lake.He'd been walking the eastern boundary, something he did whenever the mood struck him, a habit inherited from his father. Not out of sentiment. It just worked. Walking your own borders taught you things no report or Marcus briefing ever could. Whether the scent markers held. Where the undergrowth grew too thick to see through. Whether someone had shifted a boundary stone.He'd been half focused on a stretch of fence line on the north side where the posts were rotting, already planning to send a crew out that week, when the scent slammed into him.He'd never catalogued this one before. Or maybe he had, buried under other things, the way one note in a chord disappears until you hear it stripped bare and realize it had been there all along. Something warm and clean, riding just under the smell of lake water. Something moving through the trees on the afternoon breeze with a slow, unhurried quality that stopped him cold.He stood still on
last updateLast Updated : 2026-07-09
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Cookies and Denim
POV: JamesRosie had been the daughter of some abandoned Omega who'd wandered too close to Bloodmoon's borders once, human enough in scent that the pack let her stay and put her to work in the kitchen. That skill with an oven kept her fed and housed for the rest of her life. Turned out she'd passed every bit of it down to Trishelle, since Rosie herself never had kids of her own. Maybe that's why she poured so much into the girl instead. All that pent-up mothering with nowhere else to go.She's the one who patched Trash up after the compost heap. The one who actually gave a damn.Rosie had been tall too, he remembered now. Tall like his warriors despite never once shifting in her life, with a sense of smell sharper than most full wolves. He could still picture her hunched over the big stone ovens, flour dusting her forearms, humming some tune nobody else seemed to know. That settled it. Those were Rosie's old clothes Trish wore, cut for a different kind of tall, baggy in all the wrong
last updateLast Updated : 2026-08-07
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Breathing Room
POV: TrishelleTrishelle dragged herself down the basement stairs, bone tired in the way that came from days that never let up. James had backed off, at least. No more shadows in the garden, no more footsteps outside the shed. Whatever twisted thing had crawled into him seemed to have burned itself out, and she sure as hell wasn't going to poke at it and find out why. She'd learned a long time ago that peace in this house came in scraps, little windows that slammed shut as fast as they cracked open. The only smart move was to climb through while she still could.She shook out her thin blanket, and the old irritation came roaring back anyway. The fabric smelled like the basement, damp stone and dust, and she wrinkled her nose before spreading it over the mattress.Bark at me to bake cookies in a rush, vanish for a day, then strut back in reeking of sex and God knows how many she-wolves, and have the balls to demand a fresh batch like I've got an endless supply hiding up my sleeve.Good
last updateLast Updated : 2026-08-07
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Waiting on the Crescent Moon
POV: JamesThe crescent moon hung thin over Bloodmoon territory, just enough light to take the edge off the dark without killing it completely. James had done his homework this time. Two weeks of quiet questions, careful ones, had confirmed what he needed to know. Trishelle came to the lake on crescent moon nights. Every time. Like clockwork.He'd made sure her day stayed easy so she'd have no excuse to skip it, and he'd pulled every patrol from the area until he said otherwise. Pack security, he told himself. Nothing more than that. The lie sat wrong in his chest even as he thought it. Whatever this was—curiosity, obsession, something he wasn't ready to put a name to—he wanted it to himself. No interruptions.He crouched behind a wide tree near the shoreline, damp earth soaking through his pants, the mineral smell of the lake curling toward him on the night air.This is insane. I'm the Alpha of this pack and I'm hiding in the bushes like a damn pervert.Still, he stayed. Some part of
last updateLast Updated : 2026-08-07
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A Pack on Edge
POV: The PackSomething had happened to the Alpha of Bloodmoon pack. Everyone felt it, the way one feels a storm coming before the sky even changes color, a pressure in the air that settled over the pack house and refused to lift.He moped around like a kicked dog. He sighed like the world had personally handed him its problems to carry, shoulders bowed under some invisible weight he refused to name. He skipped training more than he showed up, choosing instead to brood alone somewhere nobody dared follow, disappearing for hours at a stretch and returning with the same hollow look in his eyes. Even his closest warriors kept their distance, trading uneasy looks whenever his name came up, like saying it too loud might call down whatever darkness had wrapped itself around him. A few of the younger wolves whispered that he'd been cursed. The older ones just shook their heads and said nothing, which somehow felt worse. Nobody knew exactly what had shifted in the last few days. Just that it
last updateLast Updated : 2026-08-07
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