Rejected by My Alpha, Forced to Serve His Mistress

The invitation came on thick cream cardstock, embossed with the Ashwood crest. A joint-pack banquet. Six packs attending. Black-tie. I read it twice, set it on my dresser, and waited.

Cullen appeared in my doorway that evening without knocking. He never knocked anymore.

"You'll attend tomorrow night," he said. Not a question. His eyes tracked over me like I was furniture he was considering moving. "Zuri will make her entrance as honored guest. You'll kneel on the red carpet and hold her train during the walk."

I looked at him. He looked back, waiting for the reaction he always wanted and never got. My wolf stirred—that low rumble I'd been feeling more often lately, like something waking up after a long sleep.

"Understood," I said.

His jaw tightened. He wanted me to fight. To cry. To beg him not to make me do it. Instead I stood there, calm, my hands folded in front of me like I was receiving instructions about table settings.

"Good," he said finally, and left.

I waited until his footsteps faded down the hall. Then I pulled out the ledger, opened to a fresh page, and wrote: *Public humiliation. Red carpet. Six packs as witnesses. Price to be determined at point of delivery.*

I closed the book and went to bed. Through the bond I felt him with Zuri—smug, satisfied, already celebrating tomorrow's victory. I pressed my thumb against the mark on my neck until the feeling passed.

---

The Ashwood estate glittered like something out of a fairy tale. Torches lined the drive, their flames snapping in the night wind. Wolves in formal dress moved through the grand entrance in clusters, their voices carrying across the stone courtyard. I recognized Alphas from three neighboring territories, their Lunas on their arms, all of them pausing to greet each other with the careful politeness that pack politics required.

I arrived separately from Cullen and Zuri. No one commented on it. By now, everyone knew.

The red carpet stretched from the main doors down the wide front steps, flanked by torches and watched by at least two hundred wolves. I walked to the base of the steps and waited. The crowd's conversation didn't stop, but it quieted—that particular hush that meant people were watching without wanting to be seen watching.

Zuri appeared at the top of the steps in a gown the color of fresh blood, its train pooling behind her like spilled wine. The fabric shimmered as she moved, catching the torchlight. She looked down at me and smiled.

I sank to my knees.

The crowd went silent.

I kept my spine straight, my hands steady as I gathered the heavy silk train and lifted it clear of the steps. Zuri descended slowly, dragging out every second, her heels clicking on stone. I could feel the weight of two hundred pairs of eyes on the back of my neck. Somewhere in the crowd, Cullen watched. I didn't look for him.

Zuri reached the bottom step. I rose smoothly, the train still in my hands, and began to walk behind her. Three steps. Four. The crowd parted to let us through.

Then Zuri stopped.

She turned, fast, and her hand cracked across my face hard enough that my head snapped to the side. The sound echoed off the stone walls like a gunshot.

Pain bloomed hot across my cheekbone. I tasted copper. My lip had split—I felt the blood well up, warm and wet, trickling toward my chin.

I did not move.

Zuri stood there, breathing hard, her hand still raised, waiting for me to react. To cry. To lunge at her. The crowd held its breath.

I straightened slowly. Let the blood run. Looked past Zuri to where Cullen stood frozen near the entrance, his face caught somewhere between shock and fury—not at her, at me, because I still wasn't giving him what he wanted.

I spoke quietly. Clearly. Pitched for every enhanced ear in that courtyard.

"Five hundred thousand dollars wired to the Silverpine legal trust by midnight, or I accept the rejection tonight—and your Blood Heir Covenant dies with it."

The silence shattered. Murmurs rippled through the crowd like wind through grass. I watched Cullen's face go white, then red. His aura flared—hot, furious, humiliated—and then guttered like a candle in a draft.

He pulled out his phone.

I stood there, blood still wet on my chin, and waited. Zuri's hand dropped. She looked at Cullen, then at me, confusion cracking through her triumphant expression. Around us, wolves whispered behind their hands. An Alpha from the Ashwood pack tilted his head, watching Cullen with the kind of interest a predator shows when it smells weakness.

Cullen's fingers moved across the screen. Tap. Tap. Tap.

My phone buzzed in my clutch.

I pulled it out, checked the notification. Wire transfer received. Five hundred thousand dollars. Timestamp: 9:47 PM.

I looked up at Cullen. He stared back at me, his jaw so tight I could see the muscle jumping beneath his skin. His aura flickered again—weaker this time, unstable, like a fire running out of fuel.

I slipped my phone back into my clutch, turned, and walked into the banquet hall.

Behind me, the crowd exploded into whispers.

---

Dinner was venison and roasted vegetables, served on gold-rimmed plates. I sat at Cullen's right hand, silent and immaculate, the line of dried blood still faintly visible at the corner of my mouth. I had not wiped it away. Every time a guest's gaze flicked to my lip, I felt Cullen's fury spike through the bond.

I had turned my own blood into a ledger entry he could not erase.

Zuri sat on his left, her earlier confidence crumbling into sullen silence. She picked at her food and drank too much wine. Across the table, the Ashwood Alpha's Luna watched me with something that might have been respect or might have been pity. I couldn't tell. I didn't care.

Dessert was chocolate mousse. I ate mine slowly, savoring every bite.

---

The drive back to Ironveil was silent for exactly four minutes. Then Zuri started screaming.

"You humiliated me!" Her voice cracked, shrill and furious. "You paid her! In front of everyone, you paid her like she's—like she's—"

"Shut up," Cullen snapped.

"Don't tell me to shut up! You made me look like a fool! She slapped me and you gave her half a million dollars!"

"I said shut up!"

I watched the dark road through the window. Trees blurred past, black shapes against a blacker sky. My cheek throbbed. My lip stung. Through the bond I felt Cullen's rage—hot, jagged, impotent—and underneath it, something new.

Fear.

I pressed my thumb against the mark and smiled.