Rejected by the Lycan Prince

The mark on my neck burned like molten silver, pulsing with each frantic beat of my heart. Through the haze of overwhelming sensation, I became dimly aware of the ballroom around us—hundreds of eyes watching, whispers starting to ripple through the crowd like wildfire.

Vance's hand was still wrapped around my wrist, his grip tight enough to bruise. But something in his storm-gray eyes had changed. The primal intensity from moments before was rapidly being replaced by something colder, more calculating. I watched in growing horror as disgust flickered across his perfect features.

"No," he whispered, so quietly only I could hear. His voice carried a note of panic that sent ice through my veins. "This can't be happening."

He released my wrist so abruptly I stumbled backward, my hand flying to the burning mark on my neck. The spot where his teeth had pierced my skin throbbed with an alien heat that seemed to spread through my entire body like poison.

"Your Highness?" Alpha Blackwood's voice cut through the stunned silence, carefully neutral but edged with concern. "Is everything alright?"

Vance straightened to his full, imposing height, and I watched in real-time as his expression transformed into a mask of royal indifference. The man who had whispered "mine" against my throat was gone, replaced by someone who looked at me like I was something distasteful he'd stepped in.

"Everything is perfectly fine," Vance announced, his voice carrying clearly across the ballroom. The commanding tone made several lower-ranked wolves automatically bow their heads in submission. "Though I'm afraid there's been a... misunderstanding."

My legs felt weak beneath me. The mark on my neck pulsed with each word he spoke, as if the bond was trying to pull me toward him even as his rejection carved hollow spaces in my chest.

"You see," he continued, his storm-gray eyes fixed on mine with cruel precision, "the Moon Goddess seems to have made an error. An omega mate—" he practically spat the word "—is a weakness I cannot afford."

Gasps echoed through the ballroom. I felt every stare like a physical weight, pressing down on me until I could barely breathe. The champagne stains on his suit seemed to mock me, evidence of my clumsiness that had started this nightmare.

"Your Highness," someone whispered from the crowd, "surely you don't mean—"

"I mean exactly what I said." Vance's voice cut like a blade through the murmurs. He took a deliberate step away from me, the distance between us feeling like a chasm. "She is beneath my station. Beneath any station that matters."

The words hit me like physical blows. Each syllable carved deeper into the hollow space in my chest where something vital was being torn away. The mark on my neck burned hotter, as if protesting his rejection even as he spoke it.

Vance raised his voice, ensuring every person in the ballroom could hear him clearly. "I, Prince Vance Cunningham, heir to the Lycan throne, reject you—" his eyes found mine again, and for just a moment, I thought I saw something like regret flash through them "—Bella Rivera, wolfless omega of the Moonveil Pack, as my mate."

The ancient words of rejection hit me like lightning. Pain exploded through my body, starting from the mark on my neck and radiating outward like fire in my veins. I doubled over, gasping, as something fundamental inside me began to tear apart.

The mate bond—that electric connection I'd felt for all of thirty seconds—shredded like tissue paper. But instead of a clean break, it felt like someone was ripping my soul in half with rusty claws. My wolfless nature meant I couldn't howl my agony the way other wolves would. Instead, a broken whimper escaped my lips.

"The bond is severed," Vance declared coldly, though I noticed his hands were clenched into fists at his sides. "Let this serve as a reminder that the royal bloodline will not be weakened by... inferior connections."

The ballroom erupted in whispers and shocked murmurs. Through the haze of pain, I heard fragments: "...wolfless omega..." "...what was he thinking..." "...political disaster..."

I pressed my hand harder against the mark on my neck, trying to stop the burning, but it only seemed to make the pain worse. My vision blurred as tears I refused to shed stung my eyes. I would not cry in front of these people. I would not give them that satisfaction.

With what little dignity I had left, I straightened my spine and met Vance's cold gaze one last time. The storm-gray eyes that had looked at me with such intensity now held nothing but dismissal.

"Understood, Your Highness," I managed to whisper, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my own heart.

Then I turned and walked away, each step sending fresh waves of agony through my body as the fractured bond protested the distance. Behind me, conversations resumed in hushed, scandalized tones, but I kept walking.

I had to get out of here before I collapsed.