The Alpha Who Rejected His Fated Mate

I waited at the entrance of the Harrison Pack’s territory for three months before I finally caught a glimpse of him.

At first, he wore a hooded jacket, his clothes tattered, worse than mine, and there was a prominent scar running across his right eye. But I recognized him instantly. His scent, though faint, carried the unmistakable trace of rosemary and pine—the same scent I had memorized from our brief encounters in the past.

The night I left the pack’s main house, Healer Ruthie had repeatedly warned me that we were no longer connected to the Harrison Pack. I was never Sebastian’s true mate, and I knew nothing about him. We were just in town looking for relatives, she said.

I understood the gravity of the situation, so I didn’t call out to him. Instead, I followed him quietly until we reached a narrow alley. He suddenly turned around, his claws extending, and froze when he saw it was me.

I blinked at him and smiled. “I knew you weren’t dead.”

Ruthie seemed unable to believe it. Her eyes reddened as she looked him up and down, over and over, before finally kneeling and bowing deeply.

“Alpha Sebastian,” she said, her voice trembling. “You’ve suffered so much.”

His eyes darkened, and he helped her up. “Ruthie, don’t call me that anymore. From now on, I’m just Sebastian Harrison.”

Sebastian Harrison. It took me a year to learn his name, and just as I’d imagined, it suited him perfectly.

That evening, I sat on the steps, gazing at the moon. The sky was hazy, and the moon was barely visible.

“What are you looking at?” Sebastian sat down beside me.

I turned to meet his gaze, and suddenly, the moon seemed clearer. I smiled. “The moon.”

Sebastian pursed his lips, leaning back on his hands. “How did you recognize me today?”

“Your scent,” I said confidently. “It’s unique—rosemary and pine. I could never forget it.”

He was easy to recognize. His eyes held the reflection of the moon and the clouds, and I knew I’d never forget them.

Sebastian paused, raising a hand to cover his eyes. “With this face, I’m sure I could scare children into silence. It’s surprising you could still pick me out.”

He was mocking himself, that scar running across his right eye. I gathered my courage and leaned closer, my fingers brushing the scar. “Does it hurt?”

He looked away, his voice low. “Isn’t it ugly? Aren’t you afraid you’ll have nightmares?”

“It’s not ugly,” I said firmly.

It really wasn’t. He had always been handsome, and now the scar only added to his presence.

I hesitated for a moment, then rolled up my sleeve and showed him my arm. “You don’t need to feel bad about scars. I have them too.”

Before I came to the Harrison Pack, my father, Ahmad, loved to hit me. When he drank too much, when he lost money at the pack’s gambling den, even when my mother, Scarlet, tried to defend me, he would beat me. Using his claws wasn’t uncommon, and my body was covered in scars.

Sebastian’s expression darkened as he stared at the marks on my arm. His face turned so grim it seemed to blend into the shadows.

I quickly pulled my sleeve back down, feeling a little embarrassed. “Don’t worry, these scars aren’t scary…”

I felt awkward.

He was silent for a long time before finally letting out a low chuckle. He leaned closer to me. “You’re the first person in my life who’s told me not to be afraid.”

He untied the pendant from around his neck and pressed it into my hand. “Don’t go back to that place. From now on, you don’t have to be afraid either.”

His warm breath brushed against my skin, and I smiled, realizing what he meant.

Ruthie saw us from the doorway and immediately pulled me aside that night, determined to give me a lesson. She handed me a book with illustrations of figures, her face calm but her voice serious.

“Learn this well,” she said, tapping my head. “Sebastian is the last of his bloodline in the Harrison Pack. Given the current circumstances, you need to work hard and ensure his lineage continues. We can’t let the Harrison name die out.”

I opened the book, and Ruthie began explaining each page. My face burned when I realized what it was about.

So, being a chosen mate meant doing *this*?