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Home / Werewolf / Rejected and Reclaimed: The Alpha's Second Bond / Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

All Chapters of Rejected and Reclaimed: The Alpha's Second Bond : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

29 Chapters

Eleven

Damon’s POVThe coronation had ended in a roar of pack approval that still echoed in my ears.Valentina stood beside me on the raised platform at the front of the hall, crimson gown clinging to her like blood on steel. The chosen mark on her neck—my bite—was still raw and proud, the skin around it flushed from the fresh claim. She looked like power personified, chin high, eyes glittering with triumph.Elder Mara’s voice rang out one last time:“Luna Valentina Blackthorn, chosen and sealed. Long may she reign beside her Alpha.”The pack howled—deep, unified, hungry.I felt the surge of their loyalty through the pack bond.Solid.Strong.Mine.My father nodded once from the elder seats—silent approval.Cade clapped me on the shoulder hard enough to bruise, grinning like he’d just won a lifetime of bets.It was done.She was Luna.No more whispers.No more doubts.No more weak links.We left the hall to thunderous cheers.The moment the heavy doors closed behind us, Val turned.Her mouth

Twelve

Damon’s POVThe guards dragged her in.She looked even smaller than I remembered—thin wrists swallowed by iron cuffs, silver-streaked hair hanging in greasy tangles, the black blindfold tied so tightly it left red marks on her temples. Chains clinked with every shuffling step. She smelled of damp stone, old herbs, and the faint copper of blood that never quite washes off.They forced her to her knees in the center of the war room.Val sat to my right, legs crossed, chin propped on her hand, watching like she was at a show.My father stood near the wall—arms folded, jaw locked. He hated this. Hated that I’d pulled her out of the dungeon he’d kept her in for years, trying (and failing) to force her to weave protection spells around the pack borders.I didn’t care what he thought.Four warriors were lying in the infirmary like corpses that still breathed.I needed something—anything—to make sense of it.I leaned forward, elbows on the oak table.“Speak.”The witch tilted her blindfolded

Thirteen

Elara’s POVSunlight woke me—clean, bright, almost aggressive.It poured through floor-to-ceiling black-framed windows that stretched the entire length of one wall, turning the room into a box of light.No heavy drapes.No dusty curtains.Just thin motorized gray sheers that were half-open, letting the morning flood in without apology.I blinked against it.The bed was enormous—low platform, no visible headboard, just a thick mattress wrapped in crisp white cotton percale sheets and a charcoal-gray cashmere duvet folded once at the foot.A single matte-black nightstand floated on each side: one held a wireless charging pad and a glass of water with a thin slice of lemon already floating in it; the other had a tiny matte-black vase with three perfect white orchids, petals so flawless they looked fake.The floor was wide-plank matte black oak—smooth, warm under my bare feet, heated from underneath.The walls were charcoal microcement with faint metallic veining that shimmered when the l

Fourteen

Elara’s POVThe honey cake sat heavy on my tongue—too sweet, too rich, too much like something I wasn’t supposed to have.I swallowed the last bite anyway, then stared at the empty plate, the crumbs, the little silver fork, the matte-black tray that probably cost more than everything I owned back in Silver Moon.I couldn’t just leave it there.That felt wrong.So I stood up, knees still shaky, and picked up the tray.The room was so quiet I could hear my own breathing.I walked barefoot across the heated black oak floor, past the floating console, past the backlit onyx wall that glowed soft emerald, and out into the hallway.The corridor was wide, walls the same charcoal microcement with faint metallic threads that caught the recessed lighting like liquid silver.No carpet.No clutter.Just clean lines, matte-black doors, and the faint scent of eucalyptus and cedar from hidden diffusers.I followed the smell of food.Down one flight of floating stairs (glass railings, black metal trea

Fifteen

Elara’s POVThe SUV smelled like new leather and Amara’s vanilla perfume.I sat in the passenger seat clutching the black card like it might bite me.Amara drove with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping the music—something upbeat and poppy I’d never heard before.She sang along off-key on purpose, making me almost smile despite myself.“Ready to be spoiled rotten?” she asked, glancing over with a grin.I stared out the window at the passing trees.“I still think this is a bad idea.”She laughed.“Too late. We’re already on the highway. And I’m not turning back until you have at least one bag that makes you feel like a queen.”I looked down at the card again.Matte black.No numbers.No name.Just the Nightshade pack emblem embossed in subtle silver.“He really gave you this?” I asked for the third time.“Yup. And he said—and I quote—‘Make sure she gets whatever she wants. No budget.’”I swallowed.“I’ve never had a budget. I’ve never had money.”Amara’s smile softened.“Then toda

Sixteen

Lucian’s POVThe war room smelled of black coffee and cedar smoke.I stood at the head of the long matte-black table, sleeves rolled to my elbows, staring at the digital map projected across the wall.Red markers blinked along the western border—three new patrol routes we’d added overnight after the scouts reported strange movement from rogue wolves.Nothing aggressive yet.Just watching.I hated watching.Watching meant waiting.Waiting meant thinking.And thinking meant her.Elara.Still upstairs in the suite I’d ordered Selene to prepare—the one with the floor-to-ceiling windows, the heated floors, the backlit onyx wall that glowed like trapped moonlight.I hadn’t stepped foot in that wing since I carried her in.Hadn’t even walked past the door.Every instinct screamed at me to go up there.To sit in that armchair again.To watch her sleep, or read, or breathe—just exist in the same air as her.But she’d said don’t come near me.So I stayed away.I stayed down here, drowning in pa

Seventeen

Elara’s POVThe shopping bags were everywhere.Piled on the low gray sofa, spilling across the floating console, one even balanced on the black-marble coffee table like it was too expensive to touch the floor.I stood in the middle of the room in nothing but the softest black lace bra and panties I’d ever worn, staring at the mirror.The girl looking back at me wasn’t me.She wore a simple cream cashmere sweater that hugged her body like it had been knitted just for her.Dark-wash jeans that made her legs look longer.A thin silver chain with the tiny crescent moon pendant resting right in the hollow of her throat.Her hair was brushed, her face clean, her eyes… brighter than they’d been in years.I looked expensive.I looked like someone who belonged in this room with the heated floors and the backlit onyx wall and the infinity pool glowing soft blue outside the window.I looked like a liar.My hands shook as I touched the sweater.The fabric was so soft it felt illegal.Back in Silv

Eighteen

Elara’s POVA few days had passed, and the suite no longer felt like a beautiful cage.It felt like a beautiful prison.The windows still glowed with that perfect infinity pool view.The heated floors still warmed my feet.The backlit onyx wall still turned the room emerald and gold every time the sun hit it.But the newness had worn off.The clothes in the wardrobe were mine now — I’d worn most of them at least once — but I kept reaching for the same charcoal joggers and ivory thermal top.Safe.Comfortable.Invisible.I was tired of being cooped up.Tired of staring at the same four walls.Tired of waiting for… something.Amara came every day — coffee, pastries, gossip, stories about Gideon being a giant goofball who once tripped over his own boots trying to impress her.She was the only person I really talked to.The only person who made me laugh, even if it was small and rusty.But even Amara couldn’t fill the quiet hours.I spent most of them pacing.Sitting by the window.Touchi

Nineteen

Elara’s POVThe suite felt too quiet again.The backlit onyx wall was glowing soft emerald, the infinity pool outside was sparkling like someone had sprinkled diamonds on the water, and my new phone sat on the coffee table staring at me like it knew I was too scared to touch it.Three days.Three days since I’d walked into Lucian’s cabin office.Three days since he’d said I want you like it was the most obvious thing in the world.Three days since I’d run back to this room, locked the door, and cried into the cashmere pillow because I didn’t know what to do with someone looking at me like I was worth something.I hadn’t seen him since.Not once.He really was giving me space.And I hated how much I noticed the emptiness.A knock — light, familiar, three quick taps.Amara.I opened the door before I could overthink it.She stood there in ripped jeans, a cropped hoodie that said “Gideon’s Problem” in glittery letters and the biggest grin I’d ever seen.“Emergency evacuation,” she announ

Twenty

Lucian’s POVThe cabin office felt like a damn cage today.I was leaning against the edge of the desk, arms crossed, staring at the patrol log Gideon had just tossed down like it owed him rent money.“Three more rogues on the east ridge,” he said, pacing like he was trying to wear a hole in the floor. “Same three scents. No attack. No crossing. Just… circling. Again. Like they’re waiting for us to fuck up so they can say ‘told you so’.”I flipped the page without really reading it.“Same pattern as yesterday?”“Worse. They’re inching closer each time. Not enough to trip the alarms, but enough that our scouts are starting to twitch. They’re testing us, Lucian. Seeing how far they can push before we snap.”I tossed the log back on the desk.“Add another fireteam to the night shift. Overlap the patrols. I want constant eyes on that ridge. No gaps.”Gideon nodded, but he didn’t leave.He stopped pacing, planted both hands on the desk, and looked at me like he was about to say something I

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