Rejected Mate, Rising Alpha

When I got back to the pack house, Vanessa was already bustling in the kitchen, preparing dinner. Mathias, my mate and the Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack, had given her the access code to our private quarters, allowing her to come and go as she pleased. I changed the code daily just to maintain some semblance of control, but today I hadn’t bothered. It didn’t matter how often I reset it—Mathias would always hand it over to Vanessa again. Constantly switching the code wasn’t a solution, so I let it slide this time.

"Lucia, you’re back! Dinner’s almost ready," Vanessa called out, her voice dripping with false cheerfulness. She acted as if she were the Luna of the pack, not me. Two years ago, she and Mathias had crossed paths during a pack celebration. I’d heard he’d overindulged in the ceremonial wine, and she’d stepped in, brewing some herbal concoction to soothe his hangover. Mathias had been so moved by her care that he’d declared her his "adopted sister" without even consulting me. Just brought her home one day and announced it to the pack as if it were nothing.

"Mm-hmm," I answered curtly, barely acknowledging her as I slipped into the bedroom to change out of my day clothes. Mathias followed closely behind, his presence as commanding as ever. Even in private, his Alpha aura was impossible to ignore.

"Why do you keep giving Vanessa the cold shoulder? She’s here cooking for us," he said, his voice tinged with frustration.

“Should I roll out the red carpet for her?” I shot back, fixing him with a glare that could freeze the moon itself. His eyes flickered with concern, but he avoided my gaze. Instead, he pulled me into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around me as if to soothe the tension between us.

"I’m sorry, alright? I know Vanessa isn’t your favorite person. I won’t ask her over anymore," he murmured, his tone softening. "Let me make it up to you tonight, okay? Let’s sleep together."

We’d been mates for six years, but we hadn’t shared a bed in almost a year. He’d suggested separate sleeping arrangements, claiming he tossed and turned too much and didn’t want to disturb my rest. I knew the real reason—it was so he could mind-link with Vanessa every night without interruption. I hadn’t called him out on it, simply accepting his explanation. But for the past year, we’d lived like strangers under the same roof.

This was the first time he’d proposed sharing a bed again.

"I’m not feeling well," I said firmly, leaving no room for negotiation. His expression darkened, but he didn’t argue. I brushed past him and walked out of the room, my heart heavy with the weight of the unspoken truth between us.