Rejected at the Mating Rite, Claimed by the Alpha Heir

It wasn't until the mating talk began, until I entered his circle and met Vesper Briar, that I started to feel it.

This relationship had been one-sided from the very beginning.

My plan was simple: after the ceremony, if he was willing to keep his distance from Vesper, I'd come clean about everything. Then I'd have my father secure him a rank within the pack and build him into something.

Clearly, I'd been blind.

I wrenched free of the hands pinning my shoulders, spun around, grabbed Vesper's collar with both fists, and ripped it apart.

The fabric tore instantly.

Two buttons popped off her blouse, exposing the camisole underneath.

I looked at the terror on Vesper's face and let myself smile. "You wanted a party, right? I hope every single day of your life is this much fun."

She shrieked and lunged for my face with her nails. I blocked her arm, snatched the cake platter off the table, and swung it wildly. Nobody dared come closer.

"This mating is off!"

I turned to leave.

A rush of air behind me, and Garrick's open hand cracked across my face.

The force knocked me sideways. My vision went black in waves.

Images flickered through the dizziness, one after another.

Three years ago, Garrick owed gambling debts. The collectors showed up at our den, pounding on the door. He hid in the back room, too scared to make a sound. Not a growl. Not a single flash of amber in his eyes. Nothing.

I was the one who stood in the doorway alone. They slapped me across the face over a dozen times before I finally got them to leave. I could have shifted. Could have let them scent what I really was. But I stayed human for him, and I took it.

When he came out, his eyes were red. He dropped to his knees and said he'd spend his whole life making it up to me. Swore he'd kill himself trying to be good to me.

And for a long time after that, he kept his word.

Up every morning to make me porridge. Working overtime until midnight but still rushing back to our den so we could eat together.

Now, over a degrading dominance trial, he'd hit me hard enough to send me reeling.

A searing pain tore through my right ear. Something warm trickled down the ear canal. Deep inside me, my wolf went silent. Not a whimper, not a snarl. Just silence, as if the blow had stunned her too.

My eardrums had always been thin. The pack healer had warned me that another impact could rupture them.

I reached up and touched my ear. My fingertips came back red.

Garrick jabbed a finger in my face.

"Didn't I warn you? Today you do whatever Vesper says. And instead you humiliate me in front of all these people?"

Several pairs of hands shoved me by the shoulders, pushing me toward the bench at the edge of the lawn. The stink of strange wolves pressed in from every direction, wet pine and trampled soil and sweat. None of it was mine. None of it was safe.

Someone's hand slid across my waist. Another arm reached around from behind and squeezed the inside of my thigh.

I struggled to stand, but a kick caught the side of my knee and I collapsed onto the ground.

One of the groomsmen crouched in front of me, grinning, holding his communicator inches from my face for a close-up.

I turned my head to dodge it. A hand clamped down on the back of my skull and held me still.

Vesper finally looked satisfied. She stood off to the side, arms crossed. "See? That's more like it. It's not a dominance trial if nobody's having a good time."

She glanced down at me and added, "But honestly, Lyra, what's your problem? It's all in good fun. Why'd you have to go and hit someone? You ripped my shirt, and it wasn't cheap."

Garrick walked over and draped his arm across her shoulders, his voice so gentle he sounded like a different person. "Come on, let me take you inside to change."

Vesper shook her head, the corner of her mouth curling. "No need to go through the trouble. Doesn't Lyra have a backup ceremony gown?"

"I'll just wear that. It's not like I care whether it's a mating gown or not. It's just clothes. What's the big deal?"

"Absolutely not."

I gripped the bench and pulled myself to my feet. Blood was still seeping from my ear.

"Nobody touches that dress."

Every wolf knows what a mating gown means to a she-wolf on her claiming night. I'd spent over a moon cycle on that gown, personally overseeing a master seamstress in Rosemont as she hand-stitched every detail to my specifications. Threaded into the lace along the hem were thin lines of moonsilver, my own design, a pattern drawn from the old Nightfang crest that no one in Thornridge Hollow would have recognized.

Something shifted across Garrick's face, like he'd just remembered that. His eyes went slightly unfocused.