After My Beta Rejected Me, I Reclaimed My Alpha Blood

I was born with Alpha blood flowing through my veins, heir to one of the most prestigious packs in the Northeast. Yet here I was, living a lie for the past month, all for what I believed was love.

My name is Charlotte Blackwood, and I had made the decision to hide my true identity when I met Marcus Thompson, Beta of the Silvermoon Pack. I wanted him to love me for who I was, not for my family name or the power it carried.

The full moon hung heavy in the night sky as I slipped away from the pack house. The forest welcomed me with its familiar whispers, branches swaying in the gentle breeze as if beckoning me deeper into its embrace. Once I was far enough, I surrendered to my wolf.

The shift was seamless—bones cracking, muscles stretching, skin giving way to a coat of silvery fur that gleamed under the moonlight. My wolf, Luna, greeted me with a contented rumble.

"We shouldn't be hiding who we are," she whispered in my mind. "We are Alpha. It's in our blood."

"Just a little longer," I promised her as we raced through the trees, feeling the earth beneath our paws. "On our hundredth day, we'll tell him everything."

Luna didn't respond, but I felt her unease. Something about Marcus had always made her restless, though I'd attributed it to our secret. Surely once he knew who I truly was, everything would fall into place.

As dawn broke, I shifted back and returned to the pack house just in time for the morning run. Marcus was already there, his dark hair tousled from sleep, those piercing blue eyes finding mine across the yard.

"You're up early," he noted as I approached, his gaze traveling appreciatively over my form. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Just excited for the run," I lied, offering him a smile.

The pack set off, thirty wolves strong, through the territory. I kept pace easily, my Alpha stamina giving me an edge even when I tried to hold back. Marcus noticed, falling into step beside me.

"You're strong," he murmured, just for me to hear. "Graceful too. Most wolves can't keep up with me."

I felt a flush of pride, both at the compliment and the private moment between us. This was why I'd fallen for him—these quiet acknowledgments, the way he seemed to see something special in me even without knowing my lineage.

Thirty days. That's how long we'd been together, building what I thought was a genuine bond. That evening, we shared dinner in his office, the space intimate with candlelight and the scent of the forest that clung to him.

"You're distracted tonight," Marcus observed, setting down his wine glass.

I reached across the table, my finger lightly tracing the scar that ran along his jaw—a battle mark he wore proudly. "I was just thinking about our hundredth day."

"Oh?" His eyebrow arched with interest. "And what happens then?"

"Then I tell you my family name," I teased, my heart quickening at the thought of finally sharing my truth with him. "And introduce you to my pack."

Something flickered in his eyes—so brief I almost missed it. Then he smiled, capturing my hand and pressing a kiss to my palm. "I look forward to it."

If only I'd recognized the emptiness behind that smile.

That very night, as the moon climbed high once more, Marcus called a gathering in the grand pack hall. I arrived late, confused by the summons, only to find every member of the Silvermoon Pack assembled. The air was thick with anticipation, and all eyes turned to me as I entered.

Marcus stood at the center, his posture rigid, face a mask of cold indifference I'd never seen before.

"Charlotte," he announced, his voice carrying to every corner of the silent hall. "Approach."

Confusion clouded my mind as I moved forward, Luna suddenly alert and anxious within me.

"I, Marcus Thompson, Beta of the Silvermoon Pack, reject you, Charlotte, as my mate."

The words hit me like physical blows. Each syllable tore through me, ripping at the bond I thought we shared. Luna howled in agony inside me, the sound echoing in my mind as my knees threatened to buckle.

Marcus's wolf rumbled in approval as he reached into his pocket and tossed a small pouch at my feet. Coins spilled across the floor—my compensation, my worth in his eyes.

"Pack your belongings and be gone by dawn," he commanded, not a trace of the man I thought I knew in his voice.

And as I stood there, surrounded by the silent judgment of an entire pack, the truth crashed down upon me with devastating clarity: there had never been a mate bond at all.