Abandoned Alpha Mate After His First Love Came Back

Half an hour later, I returned to the small cottage that was mine at Blackwood Manor.

My communicator buzzed with a message from Damine just as I walked in.

"I'm busy right now. Whatever document you had me sign wouldn't be to my disadvantage, so I won't look at it."

I gave a small, bitter smile and tossed the communicator onto the bearskin sofa.

He wouldn't look. His mind was completely on comforting Sofia. Why would he care about a document that would set me completely free?

Just like he never truly cared that this bond mark on my neck didn't just signify the honor of being Luna—it was supposed to represent a mate's love.

The blood moon arrived, and the Alpha's mark made my unbearable. But my mate, who should have been with me, was with another woman. With each surge of blood moon energy, the mark felt like a hot iron being pressed into my flesh again, or like countless cold needles piercing along my veins toward my heart.

The familiar burning pain and icy coldness spread from my neck. I curled up on the cold floor, unconsciously clawing and tearing at the bearskin blanket.

Sweat soaked my hair, sticking to my forehead, making me feel cold.

I knew this was a normal reaction to the bond under the blood moon. An Alpha's presence could greatly ease this pain.

Usually, no matter how busy he was, Damine would stay by my side, releasing his Alpha aura that smelled of pine and snow, enveloping me and driving away the torment of our soul bond.

But this time, the small cottage was empty.

The pain came in waves, and in the brief moments between them, I clearly sensed something else through that damned, unbreakable mate bond—I could vaguely feel his state.

No concern, no anxiety. Only a fluctuation of... complex emotions born from a long-awaited reunion.

He was with Sofia. At this moment, when I needed him most and he should have been fulfilling his mate duties.

This realization pierced me more sharply than the bond mark's pain.

Every time before, when he'd abandon me for Sofia, I'd make excuses for him—pack business, he was the Alpha, he had responsibilities...

But this time, in the very real pain he had given me but was ignoring, all those excuses seemed so pale and ridiculous.

So a bond is a connection between two, but the pain is only mine to bear.

When another sharp cramp shot through my neck, I stopped the futile calling of his name in my mind, hoping he'd sense my pain and come back.

I just gritted my teeth, bore it, and waited for the wave to pass. And in its aftermath, I could clearly feel a part of me that had always burned for him slowly cooling, hardening, until it became like a stone forgotten in the depths of winter.

I no longer needed his comfort.

Or rather, I finally understood I had never truly had it.

The cold rain lasted a full day and night, finally stopping the next evening as the pain finally subsided.

Outside the window, the rain-washed forest glistened with a deep green.

I stayed in my cottage and logged into the pack's internal network platform, beginning to silently delete all the posts I'd carefully shared about life with Damine after our bonding.

Photos from joint hunting celebrations, small symbolic gifts exchanged during holidays, even a photo of the rare berries he'd picked for me on a return trip from border patrols... they had all been treasures I'd cherished.

After deleting the last post, I logged out and immediately saw Sofia's latest update.

A nine-photo grid. The background looked like a private yacht on a lake. She lay lazily on a deck chair, each angle carefully composed.

In one shot, she deliberately revealed a masculine hand with distinct bone structure resting on her waist. On the inner wrist was a unique old scar shaped like claw marks—a mark from Damine.

I knew that was Damine's hand, and I knew Sofia was doing this on purpose.

But looking at these photos now, I felt nothing. Not even a stir. I just found it a bit boring.

I turned off the communicator and went to the kitchen to fix myself a simple salad.

I had just placed my dinner on the heavy wooden table when the cottage door suddenly opened. Damine walked in, bringing a chill from outside with him.

He carried a wooden box carved from dark wood, bearing the Stormfang Pack crest.

"You don't have a sweet tooth," I said, looking at what he held. It was pack-made honey cake, usually only made by elders skilled in its craft for important celebrations.

Damine approached, his gaze landing on my salad. His brow furrowed slightly. "Today's your birthday, and this is all you're having?"

I froze.

Birthday.

In my fuzzy childhood memories, my human father had never celebrated my birthday.

When I was four or five, he and my stepmother drove me to the edge of our territory's forbidden forest and left me. All I remembered was the woman's cold words through the closing car window: "This little wolf belongs where she belongs."

A kind old Omega named Martha from the pack found and took me in. She gave me the name "Sylvia" and made me a member of Stormfang Pack. She declared the day she found me as my birthday and celebrated it every year.

Until I was fifteen, when Martha died protecting me during a conflict with rogue wolves.

After that, no one remembered my birthday.

Until these past three years as Damine's bonded mate. He always remembered.

No matter how busy pack affairs got, he would always show up with this honey cake on this day.

Last year, a patrol team had encountered a beast attack. He led the response team himself, returning with dark bloodstains on his tactical gear, yet he didn't forget to bring this wooden box.

And it wasn't just that.

Every time I had to cross the dangerous forbidden forest for Luna duties, he would always be waiting in advance on the watchtower at the territory's edge.

On stormy nights—the kind that made all wolves instinctively alert, a primal fear of nature's power—if he was by my side, he would always sense my unease. He would hold me with his arms that smelled of pine and cold snow, using his Alpha aura to drive away the terrifying thunder outside...

I had thought these small gestures of care might hold feelings beyond the bond. I thought maybe he had fallen in love with me too.

Until last month, our bonding anniversary.

According to ancient werewolf tradition, the Alpha is supposed to exchange a token woven from their own fur with their mate on this day to strengthen their bond.

I had carefully collected his rare jet-black shed fur half a month in advance and woven it into a pendant.

But Damine told me on the day of the ceremony, "The patrol found numerous silver traps left by poachers. I need to handle this personally. The ceremony will be postponed."

I waited in our cottage until the moon reached its peak, holding the black fur pendant in my hands.

Finally, Lidia sent a message asking me to bring her a jacket to "The Howl" bar at the edge of the forbidden forest. She said she'd left her cloak there.

I found Lidia's cloak in the noisy bar filled with young wolves' chatter, but I also saw a scene in a corner.

Sofia was drunk, practically draped all over Damine. Her nails were dug deep into his tactical uniform, clinging to him like he was her last lifeline.

"Damine! You can't only be good to her... I know I was wrong back then, I shouldn't have run away before the bonding ceremony... give me another chance, please?"

Damine's expression was stormy. He tried to pull her away, but his movements were restrained, careful not to hurt her.

"Sofia! I've told you, I have a bonded mate now!"

"So what if you do?" Sofia sobbed, clinging tighter and pressing her cheek to his chest. "You clearly still have feelings for me! Last time I was being chased by that crazed beast in the forest, wasn't it you who came first? You're good to Sylvia just because you're the Alpha, you're her mate, you have to fulfill your responsibilities, you need a stable bond to strengthen your power! Isn't that right?"

I saw Damine's body stiffen. His fingers trying to push her away trembled—a hesitation and doubt I'd never seen from him.

The next second, he seemed to completely give up, sighing with a sound of near-resignation. "Sofia... what do you want me to do with you?"

At that moment, the bag I was holding containing the fur pendant dropped to the floor.

The black fur spilled from the open bag, mixing with the wood chips and dust on the bar floor.

Images flashed through my mind.

Three years ago at the rushed blood moon bonding ceremony, his hot fingertips leaving the mark on my neck; the wild berries he occasionally brought back for me from hunts or patrols; the steady heartbeat I felt against his chest on stormy nights...

These moments I had treasured, replayed endlessly, suddenly lost all their luster, becoming pale and worthless.

I understood. All of Damine's "kindness" toward me was nothing more than routine for an Alpha toward his "bonded mate" while his fated mate was temporarily away.

It was a rule of Stormfang Pack, a shackle of his Alpha status, forcing him to act this way.

I looked at the honey cake in the wooden box, my heart perfectly calm, without a single ripple.

Damine lit the special candles, the faint light reflecting in his amber eyes, unusually gentle. "Sylvia," his voice was deeper than usual, "make a wish. Like you always do."

I nodded, about to do as he said, when the encrypted communicator he carried suddenly buzzed urgently.

He glanced at the screen, his expression changing instantly, even his breathing quickening—that was Sofia's exclusive emergency contact indicator.

He answered immediately, Sofia's terrified, tearful voice came through clearly in the quiet cottage: "Damine... I'm in the human town on the edge of the forbidden forest... there are pothers with silver weapons blocking my path... I'm so scared..."

Damine stood up in a rush, moving so quickly he disturbed the air.

He grabbed his heavy tactical coat from the back of a chair, not even looking at me. Just leaving the words "Sylvia, I'll be back" before he strode out the door.

The wooden door slammed shut behind him, the extinguishing gust putting out the candles on the cake. No one seemed to care.

The cottage was dark, the cold candles the only light source, now extinguished.

I sat with my hands on my knees, silent in the darkness for a long time.

Then, I just said in a soft but clear voice, as if speaking to the air and to myself, my birthday wish at twenty-four:

"New year, Sylvia. Stop loving Damine Blackwood."