All Chapters of His Rejected Mate, His Contract Wife: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

95 Chapters

The Alpha’s Rejection

The pen in Amora’s hand trembled violently. It wasn’t just nerves; it was her wolf, whimpering in the back of her mind, sensing the impending severing of their bond. Five years. Five years of being a "Stand-in Luna." Three years reduced to a single signature on a pack-legalized decree of separation. Across from her, Duncan Alonso, Alpha of the Silver Crescent Pack, didn't even look up. His sandalwood scent, so soft, usually calmed her. Today, it felt like poison. "Sign it," he commanded. His Alpha tone vibrated in the air, forcing her fingers to tighten around the pen against her will. "Duncan..." she finally managed, her voice cracking. "Did you ever feel it? Even for a second? The bond?" For a second…just one…he looked up. Those piercing grey eyes, flecked with the silver of his lineage, met hers. Once, she had believed those eyes could soften for her. She thought that even if she wasn't his "Fated Mate," a chosen bond could be just as strong. "Even for a heartbeat?" she whi

Scent of a Secret

Amora stepped out of the examination room with the envelope clutched tightly in her hand. Too tight. Inside that paper was the evidence of a True Alpha heir—a child that, by pack law, Duncan could take from her the moment it drew its first breath. Her inner wolf, usually a quiet, submissive creature, was curled in a protective ball deep in her chest, snarling at anyone who walked too close. She needed to leave. The clinic’s sterile scent of antiseptic filled her lungs and was making her head spin. One step. If she just reached the elevator, if she could just leave, she would figure it all out later. She took another step. Then another. And then she stopped. The air in the hallway didn't just change; it polarized. A wave of pure, unadulterated Alpha Authority washed over her, making her knees want to buckle by instinct. Duncan Alonso . He was standing at the far end of the hallway, a predator in a charcoal suit. Even in a human setting, he radiated a lethality that ma

Ghost of a Luna

Duncan didn't sleep that night. The penthouse lights stayed on until dawn, but the modern luxury felt like a cage. The chocolate torte sat on the coffee table, its scent of sugar and cocoa now masked by something that made Duncan’s inner wolf pace the perimeter of the room. It was the scent of Amora’s departure. He prowled the living room, his heightened senses dialled to a maddening frequency. Every time he caught a lingering trace of her lavender scent, his wolf let out a low, mourning growl that vibrated in his chest. He’d replayed the clinic exchange a thousand times. The way she stood her ground. The way her scent had flared with that strange, intoxicating power. The returned five million, the dead phone number, the full closet. Each detail sharpened the unease in his chest into something he couldn't ignore. By six a.m., he was already dressed. No tie, sleeves rolled up to reveal the dark ink of his pack tattoos. He drank his coffee black, but it tasted like a

Shadows of the Past

Amora watched him for a heartbeat, the reality of his presence finally breaking through her shock. Before her mind could even process how he had found her, her wolf, exhausted and mourning surrendered. She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in the damp wool of his jacket. "Oscar," she sobbed. Oscar froze for a split second, his breath hitching, before his large, steady hands came up to wrap around her, pulling her close. He smelled of rain, cedarwood, and the raw, untamed earth—vastly different from the cold indifference of Duncan . In Oscar ’s arms, the heavy pressure of Duncan ’s lingering Alpha Command finally began to dissipate. When she pulled back, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she really looked at him. The boy she remembered—the lean, scruffy youth with dusty knees—was gone. In his place stood a man who radiated a quiet, terrifyingly formidable power. Oscar hadn't just 'done well'. He had built Wayne Industries, a sustainable timber em

The Silver Lining

"More pancakes, Amora? That Alpha pup is going to need every calorie to fuel those growth spurts. You’re eating for a future King now!" Susan Wayne, Oscar’s older sister and the pack’s lead healer, beamed as she slid another stack of golden-brown pancakes onto Amora’s plate. Susan was a whirlwind of earthy energy, bright-eyed, steady, and completely unimpressed by the stiff, high-society protocols Amora had lived under for years. To the Wayne Pack, Amara wasn't a billionaire’s discarded wife; she was a protected female carrying a sacred weight. Amora felt a lump in her throat as she looked around the sun-drenched kitchen. The air here didn't smell of ozone and cold marble; it smelled of home. "Thank you, Jess. It’s just... I’m not used to being looked after like this. In the city, I was expected to be invisible." Oscar walked in, his presence immediately grounding the room. He wore a simple flannel shirt, but the sheer breadth of his shoulders and the controlled grace of his m

Warded Gates

The bedsheets of the guest wing were cooler and softer than anything Amora had felt in the Alonso mansion, but her sleep was far from peaceful. She woke with a gasp, her hand reflexively flying to her stomach. For a terrifying second, she thought she was back in the penthouse, waiting for the heavy, sandalwood scent of Duncan to fill the room like an approaching storm. His presence had always felt like a pressurized chamber, always commanding, sharp, and biting. But as her lungs expanded, she realized the air was different here. Above all, there was an aura. It was massive, a golden weight that seemed to wrap around the entire estate like a thick wool blanket. It didn't sting her skin or make her wolf want to cower in a corner. Instead, it felt like a sturdy wall built to keep the wind out. This was the Wayne Pack’s protection—Oscar’s power. A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. "Amora? It’s Susan. May I come in?" "Yes, please," Amora called out, sitting up and pu

The Alpha’s Bargain

The high-pitched buzz of the drone made its way to Amora’s ears. Amora stood frozen on the porch of the Wayne manor, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. That silver machine wasn't just a piece of technology; it was Duncan’s eyes. It was a cold reminder that no matter how many miles she put between herself and the city, the shadow of the Alonso empire was long and reaching. “He’s going to see me,” Amora whispered, her voice trembling. “If that camera locks onto my face, he’ll have a legal reason to breach the borders. He’ll say I’m his property.” Oscar didn't answer immediately. He stepped off the porch and onto the grass, his movements slow and deliberate. He didn't reach for a gun or a radio. Instead, he reached down and picked up a smooth, jagged stone from the gravel path. The drone dipped low, pivoting its red lens toward the house. It was less than fifty yards away now, hovering with a smug, mechanical stability. “Property is a word the Alonso family uses

Wants to Play Protector

Meanwhile, Duncan Alonso stood in the center of the master bedroom, his chest heaving, his charcoal shirt discarded on the floor. His hands were curled into white-knuckled fists. One heavy chair had been hurled against the floor-to-ceiling window, spider-webbing the reinforced glass. The pillows had been ripped from the bed, and the vanity table, one Amora had used every morning for five years, was swept clean. Bottles of expensive perfume and creams lay shattered on the floor. He was looking for something. Just Anything. He needed a scent. A scrap of fabric. A forgotten hairpin. Anything that carried the lingering essence of the woman who had walked out of his life forty-eight hours ago. His inner wolf was pacing behind his ribs, a restless, snarling shadow. It was clawing at his insides, demanding to know why the duty was gone. "Where did you go, Amora?" he growled, his voice a low, jagged rasp. He kicked a discarded jewelry box across the room. It was empty. She hadn't

My Dearest Daughter

The morning sun over Norwood Green was different from the city. In the Silver Crescent territory, the sun always felt like a spotlight, harsh and demanding. Here, it felt like a warm hand on Amora’s shoulder. Amora stood in front of the old corner building, her hands on her hips. She wore a pair of faded denim overalls and a simple white t-shirt, her hair tied back in a messy bun. Behind her, a team of Wayne pack builders were already at work, the sounds of hammers and saws filling the air. “You don't have to be out here in the dust, Amora,” Oscar said, walking up beside her. He looked effortlessly powerful in a dark grey work shirt, his sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms covered in light dust. “I hired the best crew in the valley. They know what they’re doing.” Amora smiled, and for the first time in five years, the smile reached her eyes. “I know they do, Oscar. But I need this. My wolf… she’s restless. She wants to build something that belongs to us.” It was true. E

That First Customer

That smell of freshly ground coffee and sweet sugar drifted out into the crisp morning atmosphere of Norwood Green. The glass windows of the newly renovated bakery were spotless, reflecting the golden sunlight of a new day. Above the entrance, the freshly painted wooden sign swung gently in the breeze: ‘Amora’s Hearth.’ Amora stood behind the polished marble counter, smoothing down the front of her clean white apron. Her hands were still slightly dusted with flour, and her heart was beating with a mixture of excitement and sheer nerves. This was the soft opening. There were no special invitations, no media reporters, and no flashy cameras like the events she used to host for the Alonso family. It was just her, her recipes, and the small town community. "Stop pacing, Amora. You’re going to wear a hole in my new hardwood floors," a deep voice chuckled from the corner. Amora looked up to see Oscar sitting at a small two-person table near the back. He was dressed casually in a dark f

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