My Dream Mate Hates Me

Sage’s POV

A loud, sharp knock pounded against my door, jolting me awake.

I shot up, mind still tangled in the haze of sleep, blinking against the dim morning light.

Another knock—no, a pounding.

“Get up. Training starts in fifteen minutes,” a gruff voice called from outside.

Training.

Right.

I scrambled out of bed, my heart still heavy from the events of yesterday. My body ached from tension, but I ignored it, dragging myself toward my bags.

Fifteen minutes? That wasn’t nearly enough time.

I brushed my hair, threw on black pants, a tank top, and boots—barely tugging the last lace tight when the door swung open. A warrior stood there, his face carved from stone.

“Move.”

I bit down on the urge to snarl at him and stepped into the hall, falling into line with the other trainees being herded through the castle.

The corridors were silent—the wrong kind of silence. Not peaceful, but tense. You could taste unease in the air, sharp and metallic. Wolves moved quietly, some bleary-eyed, some alert. The faint scent of sweat and steel drifted through the halls.

But I barely noticed any of it.

I was still trying to shake the hollow feeling in my chest.

For the first time in my life… I hadn’t dreamt of him.

---

When we stepped outside, the air changed.

The training grounds were massive—built for war.

A sprawling field stretched before me, lined with wooden dummies, sparring rings, and brutal obstacle courses. Target posts stood like sentinels for ranged attacks, and racks of weapons gleamed under the rising sun—knives, swords, axes, bows.

The dirt beneath my boots was hard-packed, scarred from years of battles. This wasn’t a place for discipline or technique. This was where soldiers were forged.

And now, I was expected to become one of them.

A pawn in Ronan’s army.

A growl built in my throat, but I swallowed it down.

I wasn’t weak.

And I wouldn’t let Ronan see me break.

I glanced around. The group was a mix of warriors and Betas—men and women of all sizes and ranks. Some were seasoned, others young. A few faces were familiar—heirs to well-known packs, skilled fighters.

And then there were the stares.

The whispers.

I didn’t have to guess what they were saying.

They’d seen what happened yesterday.

They knew who I was—the Alpha’s daughter foolish enough to claim the King as her mate. The same one he’d humiliated before every leader in the realm.

My jaw tightened, but I kept my face blank.

Let them whisper.

I wasn’t here to make friends.

---

Then—silence.

A wave of it spread across the grounds like a ripple of instinct.

Ronan had arrived.

His presence was… undeniable.

He walked with the confidence of a predator, every step heavy with authority. Wolves stiffened automatically—some standing taller, others lowering their eyes.

He wasn’t dressed like a king today. He wore black combat gear, his sleeves rolled to the elbows, revealing muscular forearms lined with faint scars.

A warrior.

A leader.

A killer.

His golden eyes swept over the crowd, cold and assessing. Then they landed on me.

The tension was instant.

A faint, dangerous smirk curved his mouth as he strode forward, stopping a few steps away.

“Look at all of you,” Ronan drawled, voice deep and commanding. “Abandoned by your packs. Left behind to fend for yourselves.”

His gaze lingered on mine as he added, almost lazily, “Some of you… unwanted.”

My stomach knotted.

He was testing me.

Waiting for me to look away. To bow.

I lifted my chin instead, meeting his stare head-on.

I wouldn’t flinch.

I wouldn’t bow.

His smirk didn’t fade. If anything, it deepened—something like dark amusement flickering in his eyes before he turned away.

“You’re here because I allow it,” he said to the group. “And you will train because I demand it. If you can’t keep up, you won’t last.” His tone sharpened. “Make no mistake—this isn’t a favor. You are here because I don’t trust any of you.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, low and uneasy.

“Now,” Ronan continued, voice like steel, “show me which of you deserve to stay.”

And with that, the drills began.

---

It started simple—warm-ups, endurance, basic sparring forms. Some struggled, others kept pace.

I excelled.

I’d been training since I could walk. My father had raised me to lead, to fight, to survive. I knew how to hold my ground.

Push-ups, sprints, stance drills—I didn’t falter once. A few warriors gave me grudging looks of respect. The Alpha’s daughter wasn’t so fragile after all.

Ronan, however, seemed unimpressed.

He stood at a distance, arms crossed, silent, his gaze flicking over each of us like a hawk’s.

And when his eyes found me, I felt it. That weight. That silent pressure.

But I didn’t let it break me.

They paired us off for sparring. My opponent was a broad, smug male from another pack. He looked at me and grinned like he’d already won.

His mistake.

The instant the match started, I dropped him.

I used speed instead of brute strength, dodging his heavy swings before twisting his arm and slamming him into the dirt.

The thud echoed.

Murmurs spread through the crowd.

Ronan said nothing.

I glanced at him anyway. Still nothing. No approval. No irritation. Just the same cold indifference.

It shouldn’t have stung. But it did.

The drills continued.

The sun climbed higher, sweat dripped down my back, and still, I kept pushing. Keep fighting.

And then—

A voice.

Loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Why even bother try to impress him? The King doesn’t want a mate, especially a little girl who embarrassed herself in front of everyone."

Silence.

My entire body tensed.

I turned slowly, my heartbeat steady, dangerous.

A warrior stood a few feet away, smirking. His arms were crossed, and his gaze was full of mockery.

He had been at the meeting.

He had heard everything.

The other trainees stiffened, watching, waiting.

I stepped forward, tilting my head slightly. My voice was smooth, quiet—but it cut through the air like a knife.

"Say that again."

The smirk faltered.

I took another step. "Go on. Repeat yourself."

A flicker of hesitation crossed his face.

My wolf itched beneath my skin, waiting.

Lucian was watching.

Everyone was watching.

And I had never been one to back down from a fight.

Not now.

Not ever.