Rejected By The Alpha; Mate Born Wolf-less

The first time I saw her, I wanted her gone.

It wasn't the casual dismissal I offered the humans who cluttered my city. It was an instinctive, bone-deep rejection the way an Alpha reacts to a glitch in the natural order.

I stood at the floor-to-ceiling glass wall of my penthouse office, the glittering skyline of Crescent City spread out like a map of my own making. Forty floors below, the city pulsed like a restless organism-headlights bleeding into neon, millions of heartbeats thrumming in the dark.

This city belonged to me.

Publicly, I was Adrian Blackwood: the billionaire prodigy of Blackwood Holdings. Tech, real estate, energy-I owned the infrastructure of the human world. But beneath the tailored Italian suit and the cold corporate mask, I was something far more primal.

I was the Alpha of the Blackwood Pack. And in this city, every wolf answered to my soul.

Except one.

I didn't even know her name yet, but the moment she had stepped into the packhouse lobby earlier that evening, my wolf had snarled. Now, hours later, he was still pacing the cage of my ribs, claws scraping against my self-control.

Something is wrong, he growled, his voice a low vibration in my skull.

"I know," I muttered, my own reflection staring back at me-eyes flashing a brief, predatory gold before I forced them back to grey.

A sharp knock broke the tension. "Enter."

The door swung open, and Marcus, my Beta, stepped in. We had been raised together, trained to be the sword and the shield of the Blackwood line. He was usually unshakable, but tonight, his brow was furrowed with a rare unease.

"The girl," he said, skipping the formalities.

I didn't turn around. "What about her?"

"She's here for the job. The administrative assistant opening at the firm."

I turned then, my brows drawing together. "You're telling me the girl who walked into our sanctuary earlier... is a human applicant?"

Marcus shifted, his boots creaking on the hardwood. "That's the strange part. She isn't human."

My wolf went dead still. A predator locking onto a scent.

"Explain," I commanded, the Alpha's weight settling into my voice.

Marcus sighed, running a hand through his cropped hair. "She smells like a wolf. The musk, the pine, the ancient hum of the blood-it's all there. But there's no spirit, Adrian. There's no shift. She's... empty."

The silence in the room thickened until it was suffocating.

"Impossible," I snapped. "You're describing a rogue or a human with a drop of heritage. There is no such thing as a wolfless wolf."

"I thought so too," Marcus countered. "But she's here. And she was personally recommended by the board."

That stopped me. The board was comprised of the pack elders-men who valued tradition above all else. They wouldn't hire a human to clean the floors, let alone recommend a freak of nature to my inner circle.

"Bring her in," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous level.

"You want to meet her here? Now?"

"I want to know why a broken girl thinks she can survive in my world."

When the door closed, I waited. My wolf stirred again, a strange, frantic energy buzzing beneath my skin. Mine, he whispered, a low, confusing sound that I swiped away like a pestering insect.

Impossible. The Moon Goddess would never pair an Alpha with a defect. It would be an insult to my bloodline.

A soft, steady knock.

"Come in."

The door opened slowly, and Lena Hart stepped into my world.

The air in the office changed instantly. She wasn't dressed for a billion-dollar interview. She wore dark jeans, a cream sweater that looked soft to the touch, and worn leather boots. Her black hair fell in waves, framing a face that was hauntingly symmetrical.

But it was her eyes that caught me. They weren't submissive. They didn't hit the floor in the presence of a King. They were dark, steady, and entirely unafraid.

I sat behind my desk, letting the silence stretch, using the full weight of my Alpha aura to try and crush her composure. She didn't flinch. She just stood there, smelling of rain and something sweet-like honeysuckle in a graveyard.

"Name," I barked.

"Lena," she said. Her voice was like silk over gravel-soft, but with an edge. "Lena Hart."

Mate, my wolf whimpered. I slammed a mental door on him.

"You're aware that Blackwood Holdings isn't a typical corporation," I said, leaning forward. "We operate under... specific instincts."

"I gathered that," she replied. Her lips twitched-not quite a smile, but a ghost of one.

"Then tell me," I said, my voice turning icy. "Why someone without a wolf thinks she has any business being in this building."

The words were meant to draw blood. Most wolfless-the Omegas of the bottom tier-lived in shame, hidden away or discarded.

Lena didn't recoil. If anything, she stood taller. "I need a job, Mr. Blackwood. And the board seems to think I'm the only one capable of handling your... temperament."

I studied her. Up close, I felt the "wrongness" Marcus had mentioned. I could sense the wolf-blood in her veins-it sang to mine-but there was no second heartbeat. No beast behind the eyes. It was like looking at a beautiful, high-powered engine with no spark to start it.

"Do you know what you are?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

"I do."

"Say it."

Her jaw tightened, the first sign of emotion she'd shown. "I'm wolfless."