Maera thought turning eighteen would mean acceptance, love, and the mate she had always longed for. Instead, her world shatters when Alpha Kael Draven, the most feared Alpha of their generation, rejects her in front of the entire pack, branding her weak and unworthy of bearing his bloodline. Stripped of her dignity and cursed by a wolf who refuses to shift, Maera becomes the pack’s shame. Mocked, abandoned even by her own family, she is cast into exile and left to die. But fate is not so easily silenced. On the brink of death, Maera is saved by Ronan Valeblood, the Lycan King feared across all realms. He should see her as an enemy. Instead, his wolf stirs restlessly around her, and Maera’s dormant power begins to awaken in his presence. Hunted by the Alpha who scorned her and bound by a growing bond with the Lycan who might claim her.
View MoreMaera
"What is going on here?" I barked as soon as I entered the serving room. Today is the full moon event, a ceremony where packs find their fated mate. It's also the day I turned 18, an age I am supposed to find my own mate too.
"How did she get in?" one of the three servers near the prep table says. A platter sits between them, steam curling off roasted meat. One girl holds a tiny vial. The room smells of rosemary and something sharp that does not belong. "Did you not lock the door?"
The second blinks. The third step toward me. "You will keep your mouth shut and take this to your Alpha," she says. "Or we kill you right now and leave before anyone notices."
My wolf presses up under my skin. Not ours, she whispers. Poison. "I am not serving that," I say. "I saw you. I am calling the guards."
I pivot. Fingers clamp my arms. A hand covers my mouth. The vial clicks against porcelain. I kick back and catch a shin. Trays rattle. The door shoves open.
Two guards step in, black uniforms neat. "What is going on," the taller one says.
"She was tampering with the Alpha's portion," the bold one blurts, pointing at me. "We caught her trying to poison him."
I wrench free. "That is a lie. They were the ones—"
"What? Who will be so bold? We'll check," the shorter guard says. He sets a silver spoon against the meat. The metal hisses. A gray stain blooms.
"Wolfsbane," the tall guard says. He looks at me like the decision is made. "Hands."
"I did not. I walked in and saw—"
"Your hands," he repeats. Linen bites into my wrists. The girl with the vial has already tucked it away. My wolf snarls. Fight. I breathe and keep my teeth shut.
"Bring her," the tall guard says. "The Alpha will decide."
They drag me through the back corridor, past shelves and tubs where dishwater slaps. The full moon pulls at my blood. Voices roll in from the great hall. Laughter. Glass. Chairs. My heart is a drum and my hands are bound.
We step into the hall. Lights burn along the beams. Wolves in suits and dresses glance toward the dais. Alpha Kael Draven stands near the head of the table, back half turned. Broad shoulders. Dark hair. A presence like gravity.
His scent hits me. Cold pine, smoke, dark spice. My wolf rises so hard I stumble. Mate, she groans. My mouth goes dry. I move toward him without meaning to.
He turns before the guards speak. His eyes lock on me. Heat crawls up my neck. The guards stop and bow.
"Alpha," the tall one says. "We found her in the serving room with the Alpha's portion. The silver test showed wolfsbane. The servers witnessed her tampering with the food."
"That is not true," I say. "I walked in on them—"
"Silence," the short guard snaps. The room quiets. My pulse pounds. Mate. Mate. Mate, my wolf chants.
Kael's gaze skims my face, my bound wrists, the stained spoon. He looks at the three servers. They stand together. The bold one bows. "Alpha," she says. "We stopped her."
"I tasted the air," I say, forcing a level tone. "They had a vial. Please check them. Check their aprons."
"No one speaks over the Alpha's table," someone hisses.
"I would never harm the pack," I say to Kael. "I would never harm you."
He walks closer. The guards pull me a half step forward. Up close his scent fills my head. He stops an arm's length away and looks down at the spoon, then at me.
"Your name," he says.
"Maera," I whisper.
Something flickers in his eyes. Gone. He turns his face to the room, voice not loud and still heard. "You bring wolfsbane to my table," he says. "You endanger my blood, my guests, my people."
"I did not," I say. I hold my shoulders even though I shake. "I saw them. I called for guards. They got to me first."
The short server makes a sound like a sob and lifts her apron. The pocket is empty. The vial is gone.
The tall guard shows the spoon again. Someone whispers. The story writes itself. Kitchen girl. Desperate. No one looks harder.
Kael moves. His hand connects. Pain explodes across my cheek. The crack snaps the hall still. Copper floods my mouth. I stagger. The guards haul me upright.
“Mate” My wolf growls out.
"Do not let the word mate leave your mouth again," Kael says, voice flat. He is close enough that I can see flecks of gold in his eyes. "Not after you try to poison me."
The word falls from me anyway, weak as breath. "Mate." My wolf reaches for him, helpless and sure. A few people flinch.
His lip curls. He lifts his head so all can see his mouth form the next words, ritual-clean and merciless. "I, Alpha Kael Draven, reject you, Maera of Winterridge, as my mate and as Luna of this pack."
The world hollows. Sound drains. Then the meaning slams in.
"Accept," he says. No anger. Just instruction. "Accept now, or your punishment will be worse."
My wolf claws inside, howling, pleading. Do not. Fight. She is young and strong and scared. I wish I could put her somewhere safe.
"Alpha, please," I try once more. "They set me up. Check the drains, the bins, their hands. There will be residue. Smell the vial. I did not do this."
Kael does not blink. "Accept," he repeats.
People stand on their toes. Somewhere a glass chimes. I understand nothing I say will turn this. The room prefers a clear story. The Alpha has spoken like a verdict.
My wolf makes one last small hope of a sound. Mate, she says, soft. I shut my eyes.
"I accept," I say. The words scrape. "I, Maera of Winterridge, accept the rejection of Alpha Kael Draven."
Pain comes like a pull on every cord that holds me. My chest seizes. Something tears. It starts low, hands grabbing at my ribs, then rips up and through. I gasp and the sound hits the ceiling and falls back. My knees fold. The guards let me go enough that I do not smash my face. The floor is stone, cool through thin soles. I curl around the pain because that is the only position that makes sense.
Voices blur. My wolf tries to lunge, then whines, then goes still.
I try to breathe. My lungs work like bellows full of nails. Heat rushes over my skin. I grip the linen at my wrists and it cuts deeper.
MaeraThe cold comes first, a hard edge that steals heat from my bones. I keep moving because stopping feels like surrender, and surrender is what they wanted when they cut me loose at the pack boundary. My feet drag. The cloak they threw over me is soaked and heavy; the ropes chafe where they rubbed my wrists. Every step sends a pulse of pain through the lash lines along my belly.On the third night the rogues find me.I hear them before I see them …low voices, the scrape of leather, the muted clink of metal, like rain on a roof. Torchlight threads through the trees, slow and hungry. They move like a thing that has learned how to look for weakness. My throat tightens. I flatten myself against a mound of roots, hair stuck damp to my forehead, and try to make myself as small as the soil.“Look,” one of them says, and his voice is a hook. “A pretty scrap left by the pack. Could fetch a coin.”“Or two,” another says. Their laughter is loose. It tastes like the inside of a wound.I hold m
MaeraThe stone bites my knees. The hall smells of smoke and boiled stew and the sharp copper of fear. The guards press me down; their grip is steady. Around us the pack watches, faces a blur. No one meets mine.A man steps forward with the whip. Silver is braided through the leather and it flashes in the lamplight. Someone near the back hisses the word cursed, and it spreads like flame. Cursed. Witch. Traitor. The sound scrapes deeper than the rope at my wrists.“Let the pack see the truth,” Kael says. He stands above me like a winter cloud. His voice is calm and final.The whip comes down.The first lash burns across my stomach. Heat blooms so bright it knocks the air out of me. I see stars. Pain knives through muscle and bone, sharp and honest. A metallic tang sits on my tongue. I cough, taste iron and cold, and a tear slips from the corner of my eye.They strike again. Each hit narrows the world to leather and silver and the hands that wield it. I force my eyes toward the crowd, h
MaeraKael’s voice cuts the hall clean. “Where is her family? Before I give my final verdict, let them step forward.”Cold licks my knees where they press into the stone. The guards hold my shoulders like clamps. I turn, searching the rows of faces, desperate for the one place that should still be mine.I find them in the torchlight. My father’s shoulders are square, jaw locked. My mother twists her apron strings until they bite her fingers. Liora stands beside the boy who claimed her an hour ago, her braid neat, her eyes wide. His hand sits firm at her waist, already protective, already claiming. Banners hang still. Smoke threads the air. The hall doors yawn open to the night, letting in the cold breath of the forest. Torches spit and pop. Far off, festival drums thud like a pulse. The baker still dusted with flour stands near the midwife; both keep their eyes on the dais, pretending not to see me kneeling.“Father,” I call. My voice shakes, but it carries. “Mother. Liora.”My father
Maera"What is going on here?" I barked as soon as I entered the serving room. Today is the full moon event, a ceremony where packs find their fated mate. It's also the day I turned 18, an age I am supposed to find my own mate too."How did she get in?" one of the three servers near the prep table says. A platter sits between them, steam curling off roasted meat. One girl holds a tiny vial. The room smells of rosemary and something sharp that does not belong. "Did you not lock the door?"The second blinks. The third step toward me. "You will keep your mouth shut and take this to your Alpha," she says. "Or we kill you right now and leave before anyone notices."My wolf presses up under my skin. Not ours, she whispers. Poison. "I am not serving that," I say. "I saw you. I am calling the guards."I pivot. Fingers clamp my arms. A hand covers my mouth. The vial clicks against porcelain. I kick back and catch a shin. Trays rattle. The door shoves open.Two guards step in, black uniforms ne
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