My Alpha Rejected Me for His Delicate Mistress

The weight of every stare pressed against my skin as I walked through the pack grounds. Some eyes held pity, others curiosity, and a few—mostly Zoey's new entourage—gleamed with malicious satisfaction.

"Leaving so soon, Victoria?" A voice dripping with false sweetness called out. I didn't need to turn to know it was Tiffany, one of Zoey's newly appointed shadows. "I thought you'd at least stay for the celebration."

I kept my gaze forward, spine straight, chin lifted. My wolf, Victoria, whimpered inside me.

*Don't let them see us break.*

"I heard the Lycan King requested you specifically," another voice added. "Must be desperate if he's taking our rejects."

A ripple of laughter followed. I quickened my pace, my suitcase rolling behind me on the gravel path. The physical pain of the broken bond throbbed with each step, but I refused to show weakness.

At the edge of pack territory, a sleek black SUV waited. Two figures stood beside it—Lycan emissaries, their posture radiating authority without effort.

"Miss Greene," the taller one said, stepping forward. "We've been instructed to escort you to the Lycan Kingdom."

I nodded, unable to trust my voice. The border line—a simple white marker in the ground—separated my past from an uncertain future.

"I need to do this properly," I said, setting down my suitcase.

The emissaries exchanged glances but said nothing as I knelt by the marker. Placing my palm flat against the cool earth, I closed my eyes.

"I, Victoria Greene, formally renounce all ties to the Silverclaw Pack," I whispered, feeling the pack link snap like a thread pulled too tight. The sudden emptiness was staggering—for seconds, I was rogue, untethered to any protection.

Then I stood and stepped across the line. The moment my foot touched Lycan soil, a strange warmth spread through me.

"Welcome to Lycan territory," the emissary said, producing a small silver disk. "This is a temporary protection mark. It will ensure your safety until you reach the palace."

I extended my arm without hesitation. The disk adhered to my skin with a gentle heat, forming a crescent moon symbol that pulsed once before settling into my flesh.

---

The Lycan Palace rose from the forest like something from another world—ancient stone towers blending seamlessly with modern glass structures. Unlike the rustic simplicity of Silverclaw's pack house, this place radiated power and history.

"King Eithan awaits you in the main hall," my escort said as we entered through massive doors of polished wood and silver.

The hall was cavernous, lit by shafts of sunlight from high windows. At the far end stood a man whose presence commanded the space without effort.

Eithan Palmer. The Lycan King.

I'd expected someone like Liam—all posturing and dominance. Instead, Eithan stood with quiet confidence, his silver-streaked dark hair falling to his shoulders, his powerful frame draped in simple but elegant clothes.

When I reached him, he did something unexpected—he bowed his head slightly.

"Victoria Greene," he said, his voice deep and controlled. "I welcome you to my territory."

Then he extended his hand. I took it cautiously, expecting the crushing grip of an Alpha trying to establish dominance.

Instead, his touch was warm and steady. And then his aura washed over me—ancient, powerful, unmistakably Lycan.

I gasped as the pain of my broken bond seemed to recede, numbed by his presence like a balm to an open wound.

"Your quarters have been prepared," he said, releasing my hand. "You'll find them comfortable, I hope."

"Quarters?" I echoed. "Not a cell?"

A hint of amusement touched his lips. "You're a diplomat, Victoria, not a prisoner. You'll be treated accordingly."

---

Meanwhile, back at Silverclaw...

Zoey stood at the head of the morning pack meeting, her blonde hair perfectly styled, her expression a mask of innocence. But when Elder Morris asked about the week's food distribution schedule, her smile faltered.

"I... I'm still learning about those details," she stammered, her eyes widening with practiced vulnerability.

"Those details?" Elder Morris pressed. "Food distribution is basic Luna responsibility. How can you not know?"

Zoey's lower lip trembled as tears welled in her eyes. "I'm trying my best," she whispered.

Liam's growl cut through the room. "Enough! My Luna doesn't need your questioning."

The elder bowed his head submissively, but not before I caught the flash of concern in his eyes.

Later that night, in the Alpha suite that should have been mine, Liam pulled Zoey close. His wolf should have surged forward, eager to claim what was his.

Instead, the beast recoiled, howling in disgust within him.

"No," his wolf snarled. "Not her. Never her."

Liam pushed Zoey away, his body suddenly drenched in cold sweat. His skin felt too tight, his bones aching with a fever that came from nowhere.

"What's wrong?" Zoey asked, reaching for him again.

"Nothing," he lied, wrapping his arms around himself as shivers racked his frame. "Just tired."

But his wolf knew better. This was just the beginning of mate sickness—the price of rejecting what the Moon Goddess had chosen for him.