All Chapters of Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King: Chapter 241 - Chapter 250

AshThe wine bottle is empty and Tara’s cheeks are glowing like she’s been kissed by the sun. She’s blinking slowly, caught between tipsy and overwhelmed, and I decide that’s our cue.I stand without preamble, smiling suavely at our companions. "We should be heading out," I say with a smile that toes the line between polite and possessive. "My sister isn’t used to these late nights."Tara’s eyes go wide, the perfect doe-in-headlights look, and I almost laugh. The table protests in a flurry of disappointed sighs and offers of more drinks. One man in particular looks personally offended that she’s leaving before he’s managed to charm the dress off her.She waves a hand, pink in the face. "I’m just not much of a drinker," she says apologetically, which is technically true, though I’d categorize her performance tonight as impressively reckless."We may stop by again tomorrow," I offer smoothly. I make sure to catch the eye of the man who’s been lurking at the edge of the crowd. He’s the q

TaraAmber smells like wealth and cigars, and I feel like a walking accident waiting to happen.I step into the lounge on Ash’s arm, wearing the red dress that hugs me in all the right places and exposes every ounce of self-doubt I possess. My heels click against the floor like gunshots. Heads turn. Ash smiles like he owns the place. I try not to trip."Chin up," he murmurs, guiding me further into the lounge. "You’re a queen, remember?""I feel like a cautionary tale." He chuckles low, the sound curling around my spine. “A very sexy cautionary tale.” I jab him in the ribs with my elbow. “Don’t make me spill out of this thing.”Ash orders another bottle of ridiculously expensive wineand leads us to the same table as last night. Already, I can feel eyes on me. "Showtime," Ash whispers, topping off my glass.I glance around the room, trying to find the man from last night—the one who watched me like he was memorizing every freckle. It doesn’t take long. He’s seated at the bar this time,

AshThe streets smell like stale beer, piss, and cheap cigarettes. Fitting, really. This city wears its decay like a second skin. Worn thin in places, rotting in others. And I’m walking straight through its guts, trying to chase ghosts.The note’s still in my pocket. Crumpled now, but the words ring as loud as ever. He knows. I don’t like being watched. I like it even less when the person watching knows exactly who I am.Don’t even get me started on Tara. She's making this harder than it has to be, with her sharp wit, easy laughter and those big eyes that look at me like I’m not a monster. Like I could be more than who I am. It’s dangerously distracting.I find the people I’m looking for near the river, where the city hides its’ disrepute. There’s a makeshift fire burning in a metal drum and a few bundled-up figures huddled around it, trying to ward off the chill.I keep my hands where they can see them as I approach. Nobody around here trusts clean boots and a straight spine.“Ev

TaraI pace the narrow motel room like a caged animal. The carpet is stained and threadbare, the air too dry, the silence too loud. Ash lounges on the bed like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like he didn’t just try to send me home like I’m some fragile thing he has to protect.I bite the inside of my cheek, hard. “You think because I’m not some blade-wielding she-wolf, I’m incapable of deciding what risks I’m willing to take?” Ash lifts an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You’re pissed.”“Brilliant deduction, Sherlock.” He sighs and swings his legs off the bed, sitting up. “Tara, I didn’t mean-”“I know exactly what you meant,” I cut him off before he can say something else that’ll make my blood boil. “You think I need protection. That I’m too weak and fragile to handle this. Poor little broken Tara can’t stand up for herself.”“I think you’re not thinking clearly,” he says calmly, “And that scares me.” I cross my arms and stare him down. “You’re scared? You. The

Ash Redgrave’s words echo in my skull like a bell that won’t stop ringing.I’ve always had a thing for devilish men, and magic.Things that aren’t what they appear to be.It’s not just flirtation. It’s not even just calculated manipulation. There’s weight and intent behind her words. The insinuation is far too specific, but how can she possibly know about me?I scan the crowd while keeping my face in a carefully practiced mask of amused disinterest. My pulse is doing its own thing entirely. Climbing steadily as paranoia sinks its claws into my back.No one should know. Certainly no human should know. Scarlett. Hilda. Arlo. They were the only ones there when I… when Astaroth died and Ash was born. When the power bled out of me like smoke in the wind. And they didn’t tell anyone but a tight circle of friends who value secrecy the way I value whiskey.There’s no way this Redgrave woman should even have an inkling. Unless someone talks or something darker is unfolding right und