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Chasing his Human Mate Novel Cover

Chasing his Human Mate

To protect his crown, Alpha King Evan Collins made a ruthless decision: he rejected Billie Jones, his pregnant, fated human mate. Left shattered and alone, Billie spent five years rebuilding her life. Now, she is a powerful, independent billionaire designer raising their secret son. Drowned in regret, Evan buys his way back into her life, desperate to beg for forgiveness. But the broken girl is gone, and he must face a successful woman who has no interest in his throne.
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Chapter 1

BILLIE’S POV

“Take it,” Ethan said coldly as he slid the envelope across the polished table. I stared at it, frozen.

“Five million dollars? For what, sweetheart?” My voice barely rose above a whisper, trembling with disbelief.

Evan’s gaze was steady, unreadable. “A separation pay,” he said calmly. “Effective today, you are no longer the designer of Collins Fine Jewelry. Once you leave this building, you are gone from this place forever.”

The paper felt impossibly heavy in my hands. I had thought we were moving forward together. I thought he would introduce me to his family. He had promised me a life I had dreamed of for so long.

Just last night we had been in bed, celebrating his business success. He had promised me everything I ever wanted in the world. Marriage, a beautiful life with the man I loved, for the first time in my life. And now he simply handed me this cheque, as if it could erase everything.

The cheque was a cold shock to my chest. I could barely comprehend it, and for a moment my fists tightened instinctively, though I forced myself to stay still.

“Tell me this is some kind of joke,” I murmured, struggling to make sense of it.

“Joke?” His voice was smooth and cold. “Do not be naive, Billie.”

I pressed my hands to my face, my chest tightening. “Evan, you said we were fated mates. You promised to introduce me to your family. Was it all a lie?”

“You are human,” he said evenly. “You cannot be the mate of a werewolf, especially a future Alpha.”

“Cannot be?” I asked him and shook my head.

“Evan, I accepted you even though I knew the truth that you were a werewolf. Because It doesn’t matter at all, right?”

I stared at him, my mind spinning. Everything I thought I knew, everything I believed, felt suddenly distant, like a dream I could no longer reach.

“Leave,” he said as his eyes turned green.

“I do not understand,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

“I used you, Billie,” he said quietly and almost dispassionately. “For pleasure. For business. For money. And now I am done. You are nothing to me.”

“So is it all really a lie? Huh?” I asked him.

“Yes. Billie Jones, I rejected you as my mate so now, leave!”

The cheque remained in my hands. I could not move. I could not speak. My mind was a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief. The ache of betrayal was sharp in my chest.

Then a voice pulled me back from the haze.

“Hey, Billie, are you done? I’m sorry but Mr and Mrs. Boston are waiting for us. I don’t want to be late,” Ethan called, knocking on my office door.

“Alright. I’m done. Wait for me outside,” I responded.

“Okay, I’ll wait,” he said, and I heard his footsteps leaving the doorway.

My God. Six years had passed, yet that voice, that moment, replayed in my mind, making my heart beat faster and threatening to ruin my entire day.

I exhaled slowly, pressing my palms against the edge of the sink as I stared at my reflection. Six years… and somehow, it still felt like yesterday.

“Not today,” I whispered to myself, my voice steadier this time. “You don’t get to ruin this day again, Billie”

I straightened my shoulders, wiping away the faint trace of emotion in my eyes. The woman staring back at me wasn’t the same Billie who once stood frozen, clutching a cheque like it was the price of her worth. No… that version of me was gone.

I walked out of my office, my heels clicking against the marble floor, each step deliberate. Controlled.

Ethan was already by the car, just as patient as ever. When he saw me, his expression softened, not with pity, never pity, but with something warm… something safe.

“Ready?” he asked.

I gave him a small nod. “I'm more than ready.”

And just like always, he opened the door for me. Such a simple gesture… but it never felt small.

The drive was filled with his usual optimism. Ethan had this way of making everything feel possible, like the world wasn’t as heavy as I sometimes made it out to be.

“We’re going to nail this, Billie,” he said with a confident grin. “I can feel it.”

I glanced at him, a faint smile forming. “You always say that.”

“And I’m always right,” he shot back playfully.

I shook my head, but for a moment… I let myself enjoy it. The lightness. The ease.

A few moments later, the car came to a smooth stop in front of the restaurant. Ethan opened the door for me as he always did, his hand steady and reassuring.

The evening air brushed against my skin, crisp and calming. I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, and stepped out, heels clicking against the pavement.

Across the patio, I spotted them, Mr. and Mrs. Boston already seated at a table bathed in warm golden light. They looked up as we approached, smiles forming immediately.

Ethan fell into step beside me. “Ready?” he asked quietly.

I nodded. “Always.”

We reached the table, and introductions began.

“Mr. and Mrs. Boston,” Ethan greeted, extending his hand.

They shook hands politely.

“Richard Boston,” he said.

“Ethan Winston,” Ethan replied smoothly.

“And this is…”

“Billie Jones, Winston Luxury Goods Designer,” I said, stepping forward and offering my hand.

Mr. Boston’s grip was firm, respectful. “A pleasure.”

Mrs. Boston stood, smiling warmly. “I’m Eleanor Boston. We’ve heard quite a bit about you, Ms. Jones.”

I smiled faintly. “I only hope for good things, Mrs. Boston.”

Ethan chuckled softly. “Only the best,” he added.

We all took our seats, menus handed over, and the waiter approached to take our orders.

“I’ll have the filet mignon, medium, please,” Mrs. Boston said.

“The truffle pasta,” I added, glancing at Ethan.

Ethan ordered his grilled salmon, and Mr. Boston chose the ribeye.

As the waiter left, Mr. Boston leaned back slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. “You two seem… perfect together,” he said, his tone teasing. “We almost thought you were in a relationship.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “Oh no, we’re just very good friends.”

Mrs. Boston smiled knowingly. “But surely, Ms. Jones… you must think about it? Ethan seems like a good man. A kind, genuine man. Someone your son could call a father.”

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