The Fiancé Who Rejected Me, And The Two Men Fate Gave Instead

Seven days before my wedding, I walked in on my best friend wearing my wedding dress.

My fiancé's hands were already undoing the buttons.

...

"Sienna, I need you to do something for me."

Adrian Rourke, Alpha of the Silver Hollow Pack and the man I was marrying in a week, sounded tired on the phone. Rushed.

"Anything," I said. "What's wrong?"

"The scent blockers. The prescription ones in my study drawer. Bring them to the Laurel Hotel, room 1408."

I frowned at the half-folded seating charts on my table. "Scent blockers? Since when do you take those?"

"Council meetings. Rival Alphas. I don't want them reading my moods." A pause. "Just bring them, Sienna."

"Have you eaten? You sound exhausted."

"Sienna."

"Okay, okay. I'm coming."

He hung up before I could say I loved him.

I didn't think about it. I grabbed the little white box from his drawer. Then I packed the short ribs I'd braised all afternoon, the ones he always said tasted like home, and drove across the city with the container warm on my lap.

The elevator was slow. I hummed the song we'd picked for our first dance.

Room 1408 wasn't locked. The door rested against the latch, open an inch.

I heard laughter first. Soft and breathless. A woman's.

My hand stopped on the handle.

"Careful," the woman giggled. "If you rip it, she'll notice."

"She won't notice anything," Adrian said. "She never does."

I pushed the door open.

Ivory silk. Hand-sewn pearls along the neckline. Three months of fittings. Every pearl was mine.

And Callie Mercer was wearing them.

Callie. My best friend since we were eight. My maid of honor. The girl who'd held my hair back at sixteen and cried at my engagement party.

She was pressed against the window, the dress slipping off one shoulder, and Adrian's mouth was on her neck.

The container of short ribs hit the carpet.

Callie screamed. Adrian turned, and for one second, just one, I saw something cross his face.

It wasn't guilt.

It was annoyance.

"Sienna." He straightened his shirt. "You're early."

I laughed. I actually laughed, high and strange, like it belonged to someone else.

"Early," I repeated. "I'm *early*?"

"Sienna, oh my God." Callie clutched the bodice to her chest. "This isn't what it looks like. I was just trying it on, and—"

"With his tongue down your throat?"

She flinched. Adrian didn't.

He held out his hand. "Did you bring the pills?"

I stared at his open palm. Then down at the white box crushed in my fist.

Scent blockers.

Not for council meetings. Not for rival Alphas.

So I wouldn't smell her on him.

"How long?" My voice came out flat.

"Give me the box, Sienna."

"How long, Adrian?"

His jaw worked, side to side. "We'll talk at home."

I threw the box at his chest. It bounced off and rolled under the bed.

"Keep it," I said. "You'll need the whole thing."

I didn't remember the elevator. I didn't remember the drive.

I remembered the pain.

It started an hour after I got home. A low burn under my ribs, right where the mate bond sat. I'd felt it pulse before when Adrian was angry or hurt or far away.

This was different.

This was him touching her.

Every brush of his skin against hers dragged through the bond like barbed wire. I curled up on the kitchen floor with my cheek against the cold tile and dug my nails into my palms until they bled.

I called him. It rang four times.

"What." His voice was rough. Breathing hard.

"Stop." I could barely get it out. "Adrian, please. I can feel it. I can feel everything."

Silence. Then a rustle of sheets.

"Who is it?" Callie's voice, close to the phone. Sleepy. Smug.

"Adrian, it hurts." My throat closed up. "Please. Whatever you're doing, just stop. Just for tonight."

"You're being dramatic," he said. "Go to sleep, Sienna."

"I'm your *mate*—"

The line went dead.

I called again. Straight to voicemail.

The next wave hit so hard I bit my tongue. Copper filled my mouth. I didn't cry. That was the strange part. My eyes stayed dry and burning, like my body had forgotten how.

Someone pounded on the front door.

"Sienna! Open up!"

Noah Kessler. Adrian's Beta, his second-in-command. The only person in the pack who still called me by my full name when he was worried.

I didn't move. The lock clicked anyway. He'd always had a key for emergencies.

"Jesus." He dropped to his knees beside me. "Jesus Christ, Sienna."

"How did you know?"

"I felt the bond spike through the pack link. Half the pack probably did." He slid an arm under my shoulders and pulled me up against the cabinets. His hands were careful, like I might shatter. "Where's Adrian?"

I said nothing.

Noah's eyes went still. Then cold.

"Where is he, Sienna?"

"Laurel Hotel." I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. A red streak. "With Callie."

He didn't look surprised.

I should have noticed that. I didn't.

He went to the sink, wet a dish towel, and pressed it to my lip. His hand shook a little.

"Breathe," he said. "In through your nose. Ride it out."

"It's not his fault."

Noah's grip tightened on the towel.

"It's the wedding," I kept going. The words tumbled out too fast. "The stress. The council's been on him for months about the merger, and Callie's been around so much helping with the planning, and he's been so tired. People make mistakes when they're tired, right? It was probably just one time. Just tonight."

"Sienna."

"He's going to apologize tomorrow. He'll feel terrible. You know how he gets when he feels guilty, he goes quiet for days, and then he—"

"Sienna, stop."

I stopped.

Noah sat back on his heels. He opened his mouth. Closed it. A muscle jumped in his cheek.

Whatever he wanted to say, I watched him swallow it down.

"What?" I whispered.

"Nothing."

"Noah. What?"

He looked at the floor. At the blood drying on my palms. At the photo of Adrian and me on the fridge, taken the night he proposed.

"You should rest," he said finally. "I'll stay on the couch."

"You know something."

"I know you're in pain and you need sleep."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one I've got tonight."

Another wave tore through me. I gasped and folded over, and Noah caught me before my head hit the cabinet.

He held on. He didn't say anything else.

But over his shoulder, I saw his phone light up on the counter.

A message. From Adrian.

*Keep her quiet until the wedding. She can't find out about the last two years.*