All Chapters of THE WORST REJECTION EVER.: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The silence in the room is so thick I could cut it with the fork I used earlier. I'm still bathed in this ridiculous silver light making me glow like a streetlamp. My inner wolf is running in circles, wagging her tail and sniffing the air, drunk on the smell of ozone and pine rolling off the man on the altar.It’s him! He’s ours! my wolf shrieks, practically drooling.Shut up, he’s looking at us like we’re a cockroach infestation, I snap back.Alistair drops his crystal glass. It shatters against the marble altar, but nobody cares. His gaze drags down from my hair to the scuffed boots peeking out from under my dress. He clenches his fists. A venomous whispering starts to spread through the silk dresses and expensive suits in the crowd."It must be a magic glitch," a high-pitched, condescending voice says near me. It’s Camila, the official "fiancée," glaring at me through narrowed eyes. "That woman smells like an alleyway and deep-fryer grease."Alistair doesn't answer immediately. He

Alistair shoves me away, far less violently this time, calculating the distance so he doesn't trigger the invisible force again. He jumps to his feet, brushing the glass and caviar off his ruined suit. His chest rises and falls at a dangerous pace. He runs a hand through his perfect hair, messing it up. Losing control is clearly his worst nightmare."Julian!" he barks, searching for his head of security in the crowd.A tall man with scars on his neck and a grey tactical suit shoves his way to the front."Sir.""Take her to the holding cells in the east wing basement," Alistair orders, pointing at me while refusing to look me in the face. "Chain her to the silver wall. Put a double guard on her. Nobody goes in or out until I figure out how to break the cheap magic trick this woman just cast on me."Julian nods, unhooking a pair of heavy steel handcuffs from his belt. He takes two steps toward me.My wolf lets out a mental cackle. I don't even bother putting my guard up. I dust off my h

The steam has already turned the bathroom into a sauna. I finish my business, flush, and step over to the sink to wash my hands. Alistair is still under the spray of water.Suddenly, I hear him grunt. It isn't a growl aimed at me. It's an internal protest."Shut up," Alistair mutters, slamming a closed fist against the glass wall.I raise an eyebrow, picking up his black-bristled toothbrush."I didn't say anything, rich boy. I'm busy deciding whether to use your organic mint toothpaste or let my fangs rot.""I'm not talking to you," he growls again, jerking his head sharply to the left like he's arguing with someone invisible. "I'm talking to this insufferable furball in my head."My wolf lets out a mental giggle. His wolf is mocking him.Alistair rubs his face beneath the silk blindfold. His inner wolf, who clearly has way more energy and less shame than he does, is pushing against his mental barriers. Wolves don't understand human modesty. To his beast, hiding from his fated mate be

Sleep swallows me like a dark pit. My human consciousness, full of debt, sarcasm, and defense mechanisms, powers down.That's when she wakes up.In the blackness of my mind, my wolf opens one golden eye. She stretches lazily, shaking out her fur. Finally. Took her forever to shut up, the beast murmurs, grabbing the steering wheel of my body.In the real world, my human eyes stay closed, but my body responds to a much more primal command. The wolf hates the cold AC. She hates the edge of the bed. And above all else, she hates being away from her mate.Through the magic bond, my wolf catches a signal. An energetic vibration from the other side of the massive mattress. Alistair’s wolf just took the wheel, too. The Alpha's hyperactive, playful beast has waited hours for this exact moment, crushed under his human's neurotic self-control.Hello? my wolf howls mentally, twitching her nose.HELLO! Alistair's wolf replies with the energy of a locked-up puppy. It's cold. The human is boring. Co

Moving in sync when you absolutely hate the person next to you is an extreme sport. Navigating to the penthouse's massive open-concept living area takes us five minutes of stumbling, muttered insults, and complaints about my stride length versus his.The place is disgustingly elegant. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline, white leather furniture that screams don't stain me, and a kitchen featuring a black marble island so shiny I can see my own disastrous reflection in it. Before leaving the bedroom, I grabbed the first piece of clothing I saw lying in his closet to fight off the freezing AC. It’s a heavy black silk robe with Alistair's initials embroidered in silver on the pocket. It swallows me like a tent, dragging across the floor, but it is ridiculously comfortable.Alistair sets his laptop up on the glass dining table. He’s wearing a perfectly ironed white button-down shirt and a navy blue tie. From the waist down, he’s still rocking the grey sweatpants and bare