After My Mate Rejected Me, The Lycan King Claimed Me

The storm outside my window mirrored the tempest in my heart as I huddled in my small room at the far end of the pack house. Lightning flashed, illuminating the sparse furnishings—a bed, a dresser, and a small desk where I kept my journals. The thunder that followed seemed to shake the very foundations of my existence.

Then his voice cut through my mind like a blade.

*Isabel.* Deacon's mind-link hit me with the force of a physical blow. *Come to the Master Suite. Now.*

I flinched, my wolf whimpering inside me. Once majestic and silver-white, she had faded to a dull gray shadow over years of neglect and abuse. *What does he want?* she asked, her voice faint in my consciousness.

"I don't know," I whispered aloud, pressing my fingers to my temples. "But we have no choice."

*Bring wolfsbane tea,* his voice continued, cold and commanding. *The contraceptive blend. You know which one.*

My stomach twisted with nausea. The contraceptive blend—the one that would prevent any chance of his mistress conceiving his heir.

*He's with her, isn't he?* My wolf's voice was bitter.

"Yes," I whispered, rising from my bed on shaky legs. "And he wants me to serve them."

I moved to my small kitchenette, where I kept herbs for healing—and for preventing pregnancy. My hands trembled as I measured the dried wolfsbane, adding moonflower and sage to the mixture. The scent was acrid, burning my nostrils as I brewed it.

*Hurry up,* Deacon's impatient voice sliced through my mind again. *We're waiting.*

The storm intensified as I made my way through the darkened corridors of the pack house. Rain lashed against the windows, and thunder crashed overhead. No one else seemed to be around—everyone else was wise enough to stay in their rooms during one of Deacon's "private" nights.

When I reached the Master Suite, I hesitated, the pot of tea growing cold in my hands. I could hear them through the door—Aylin's false moans and Deacon's grunts of pleasure.

"Enter," he commanded, his Alpha tone forcing my hand to the doorknob.

I pushed the door open just enough to step inside, keeping my eyes downcast as protocol demanded. But Aylin had other ideas.

"Come in, Luna," she purred, deliberately opening the door wider, standing there completely naked, her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. "Are you here to change our sheets? They're quite soiled."

I kept my gaze fixed on the floor, setting the pot of tea on a side table. "Alpha, I've brought what you requested."

"Good," Deacon said dismissively, waving his hand at me like I was nothing more than a servant. "You can go now."

Later that afternoon, I found myself in the pack's infirmary, organizing supplies as I often did to escape the oppressive atmosphere of the main house. The scent of antiseptic and herbs was comforting—a small reminder of the healing I'd once been capable of before my wolf began to fade.

"Isabel!" Dr. Elena's voice called out. "Could you help me with something?"

Before I could answer, a commotion erupted at the entrance to the infirmary. Aylin appeared at the top of the stairs, one hand on her barely-visible bump, the other clutching the railing.

"Help!" she cried dramatically. "The baby! Someone help me!"

Then she let go of the railing and threw herself down the stairs, landing in a crumpled heap at the bottom.

"What have you done?" she shrieked, pointing at me as pack members gathered around. "She pushed me! She tried to kill Deacon's heir!"

"I didn't touch her," I protested, but it was too late.

Deacon appeared in the doorway, his face contorted with rage. "What happened here?"

"She attacked me," Aylin sobbed, clinging to him. "She said she wouldn't let any child replace her position as Luna."

"That's not true!" I cried, but Deacon's hand struck my cheek with such force that I stumbled backward.

"You will be confined to your quarters until I decide what to do with you," he snarled, his Alpha aura pressing down on me like a physical weight.

Back in my room, I collapsed onto my bed, coughing up blood as the toxic mate bond continued to deteriorate my organs. My wolf lay curled in a tight ball in my consciousness, barely breathing.

*We're dying,* she whispered. *The bond is killing us.*

"I know," I murmured, wiping blood from my lips.

With trembling hands, I reached for my hidden phone and dialed a number I knew by heart.

"Uncle Thomas," I whispered when he answered. "It's time. Prepare the Fail-Safe Clause."

"The contract?" His voice was grave. "Isabel, are you certain?"

"Yes," I said firmly, feeling something stir within me—not hope, not yet, but perhaps its distant cousin: determination. "Once the mate bond is officially severed, I want everything that was once mine returned to me."

Including my life.