Rejected by Alpha Mate

Three days after Victoria's dramatic arrival, I stood in the dimly lit ritual chamber beneath the pack house, my heart hammering against my ribs. The room smelled of sage and something metallic—blood. My blood, soon enough.

"Luna Sophia," Healer Corvus's voice slithered through the room as he arranged crystal bowls in a precise circle. "What an honor for you to serve the pack this way."

I forced myself to stand taller, though exhaustion weighed on my shoulders like a physical burden. Since that night in Alexander's office, he had barely spoken to me, spending every waking moment at Victoria's bedside.

"Healer Corvus," I said, keeping my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. "What exactly is wrong with Victoria?"

He glanced up, his eyes calculating beneath bushy brows. "A rare condition that weakens the wolf spirit. I've only seen it twice before." He straightened, brushing invisible dust from his ritual robes. "Only blood from a pure Alpha lineage can save her. And you, my dear Luna, have the purest lineage in the territory."

The door swung open, and Alexander entered with Victoria leaning against him. Her auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders, and despite her supposed weakness, her eyes gleamed with something that made my skin crawl when they landed on me.

"My Luna," Alexander said, the title sounding hollow on his lips. "Victoria's condition is deteriorating. The weekly donations must begin immediately."

*Donations*. Such a sanitized word for what was about to happen.

"Of course, Alpha," I replied automatically, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.

Lyra stirred anxiously within me. *This is wrong,* she growled. *We should not bleed for her.*

I silenced my wolf as Victoria was positioned in the center of the ritual circle, her pale form draped in white silk that made her look ethereal, almost saintly. The contrast to her calculating eyes was jarring.

"Kneel before her," Corvus instructed, pointing to a stone slab that would place my neck at the perfect height for—

I swallowed hard, forcing down the panic rising in my throat. For Alexander, I reminded myself. To prove my loyalty. To silence the whispers that I wasn't worthy of being Luna.

I knelt, the cold stone biting through the thin fabric of my ritual gown. Victoria's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes as she leaned forward.

"Thank you for your sacrifice," she whispered, her breath hot against my ear. "I'm sure Alexander appreciates your... cooperation."

Before I could respond, Corvus began the incantation, his voice rising and falling in an ancient rhythm. The air thickened with power, pressing against my skin like an invisible weight.

"Now," he commanded.

Victoria's fangs extended, gleaming in the candlelight, and then sank deep into my neck.

Pain exploded through me, white-hot and blinding. This wasn't a gentle bite—it was savage, designed to tear and wound. I bit back a scream as I felt my blood, my strength, my very essence being drained away.

Lyra howled in protest within me, her silver form thrashing against the violation. *Stop this! She takes too much!*

I gripped the edges of the stone slab, my knuckles turning white as Victoria drank deeply. Through the haze of pain, I caught Alexander watching, his expression unreadable.

"Enough," Corvus finally said, and Victoria withdrew, her lips stained crimson with my blood.

I slumped forward, catching myself on trembling arms as the room spun around me. My wolf whimpered, weakened and wounded.

"You did well," Alexander said, but he wasn't looking at me—his eyes were fixed on Victoria, whose cheeks now had a healthy flush.

"I feel stronger already," she purred, reaching for his hand.

One week later, I returned to the ritual chamber, still weak from the first donation. The wound on my neck had barely healed, leaving an angry red mark that I covered with high collars and scarves.

*We cannot do this again,* Lyra warned as I descended the stairs. *She will destroy us both.*

"We have no choice," I whispered aloud. "He needs me to do this."

But as Victoria's fangs tore into my flesh a second time, and my strength ebbed away like the tide, I felt Lyra's presence growing fainter within me. A cold realization washed over me as darkness crowded the edges of my vision.

This wasn't healing. This was destruction, one drop of blood at a time.

And somewhere in the deepening shadows of my mind, I wondered if that had been the plan all along.