Rejected By The Alpha: The Secret White Wolf Queen
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For three years, I was the fated mate of Alpha Damian Blackwood, yet treated as nothing more than a "wolfless" placeholder for his true affection.
On our third anniversary, his precious Omega, Kacie, threw herself down the grand staircase and framed me for attempted murder.
While I lay on the floor with my head cracked open, my Alpha walked right past me, stepping in my pooling blood to scoop up Kacie.
Worse, when a corrupted doctor claimed Kacie was dying, Damian agreed to an ancient, forbidden blood ritual.
He ordered his warriors to hold me down and drain my heart-blood to save her.
He ruthlessly suppressed his Inner Wolf's agonizing howls, willing to let me be bled dry for a woman who was faking it all.
The man the Moon Goddess made for me was sacrificing my life for a scheming Omega's lie.
The ultimate betrayal tore through my soul, and our sacred mate-bond finally withered into ash.
But in that absolute, suffocating despair, a dormant, ancient power within my bloodline suddenly snapped awake.
I broke free, marched to the ritual altar, and ripped off Kacie's bandages to expose her perfectly unblemished skin to the entire room.
Watching Damian's glowing eyes widen in absolute horror, I stood tall.
"I, Celine Moon, reject you, Damian Blackwood, as my mate."
Leaving him collapsing from the agonizing backlash of the severed bond, I walked away to reclaim my true identity as the sole White Wolf heir of the Silver Crescent Pack.
Rejected By The Alpha: The Secret White Wolf Queen Chapter 1
Celine POV
I stood before the heavy oak doors of the Alpha's Quarters, my fingers trembling against the cold wood. Today was our third Mating Anniversary. I wore a delicate silk nightgown, foolishly hoping my natural scent—moonlight jasmine—might finally pierce the ice around Damian Blackwood's heart and remind him of the Moon Goddess's decree.
I knocked. When the door swung open, the suffocating scent of pine and leather before a storm hit me. Damian stood there, towering and rigid.
"What is it, Celine?" his voice was devoid of any warmth.
Before I could utter a word about our anniversary, a figure stepped out from the shadows behind him. Kacie. An Omega. She was wearing Damian's oversized dress shirt, her own scent entirely masked by the heavy, territorial musk of my Alpha.
"Oh, hi Celine," Kacie purred, leaning against Damian's arm as if she were the true Luna of this Pack.
My breath hitched. "Damian... it's our Mating Anniversary."
For a fraction of a second, Damian's jaw clenched. His eyes flashed a dangerous, glowing gold—his Inner Wolf fighting him, roaring *Mine!* at the sight of me. But he ruthlessly forced the beast down.
"I am aware," Damian said coldly, stepping slightly in front of Kacie to shield her. "I'll have my assistant wire a generous sum to your account tomorrow. Buy yourself some jewelry. And watch your tone around Kacie; she needs a peaceful environment."
He was reducing our sacred mate-bond to a financial transaction. The humiliation tore through my soul like a silver blade. I turned on my heel and walked away, feeling the fragile thread between us fraying to the breaking point.
When I returned to the Luna's Suite, the vast, empty bed felt like a mockery. I barely had a moment to process the ache in my chest before the door burst open. Kacie marched in without knocking.
"You're just a placeholder, you know," she sneered, dropping her innocent act entirely. "I was dying from that rogue attack three years ago. Damian only accepted a pathetic *wolfless* like you to keep the Pack stable while I recovered. I'm healed now. It's time for the substitute to step down."
Anger flared in my veins. "I am his Fated Mate, chosen by the Moon Goddess," I fired back, standing tall despite my lack of a wolf. "You are nothing but a scheming Omega coveting a throne that will never belong to you."
Her eyes narrowed, flashing with pure malice. "We'll see about that. Let's see who the Alpha chooses when his fragile little Omega is in danger."
Before I could react, Kacie lunged forward, grabbing my wrist with surprising strength. She dragged me out into the hallway, right to the edge of the Grand Staircase.
"Damian! Celine is trying to kill me!" she shrieked, her voice echoing through the Pack House with terrifying desperation.
Then, she threw herself backward.
Her grip on my arm was like a vice. The momentum yanked me forward, and the world spun into a blur of dark wood and agonizing pain. We tumbled down the steep steps. My head slammed brutally against the sharp edge of a wooden tread.
We hit the polished floor at the bottom. Pain exploded in my skull, blinding and absolute. Warm blood instantly pooled beneath me, soaking into my midnight-black hair. Because I was wolfless, I didn't have the accelerated healing of a true werewolf. I could feel my life slipping away.
Heavy, frantic footsteps thundered down the stairs. Damian.
Through my half-open, blurring eyes, I saw him. My Fated Mate. He didn't even pause as his heavy boots splashed through the puddle of my blood. He walked right past me, dropping to his knees to scoop up Kacie, who was whimpering flawlessly in his arms.
He didn't look back. He carried her away, leaving me bleeding out on the cold floor. The darkness rushed in to claim me.
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Rejected By The Alpha: The Secret White Wolf Queen of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5Chapter 6 Ch. 6
Chapter 7 Ch. 7
Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
New Release Novels
8.3
I was the long-lost Donovan heiress, finally brought home after a childhood in foster care. My parents adored me, my husband cherished me, and the woman who tried to ruin my life, Kiera Reese, was locked away in a mental facility. I was safe. I was loved.
On my birthday, I decided to surprise my husband, Ivan, at his office. But he wasn't there.
I found him at a private art gallery across town. He was with Kiera.
She wasn't in a facility. She was radiant, laughing as she stood beside my husband and their five-year-old son. I watched through the glass as Ivan kissed her, a familiar, loving gesture he’d used with me just that morning.
I crept closer and overheard them. My birthday wish to go to the amusement park had been denied because he’d already promised the entire park to their son—whose birthday was the same day as mine.
"She’s so grateful to have a family, she’d believe anything we tell her," Ivan said, his voice laced with a cruelty that stole my breath. "It's almost sad."
My entire reality—my loving parents who funded this secret life, my devoted husband—was a five-year lie. I was just the fool they kept on stage.
My phone buzzed. It was a text from Ivan, sent while he stood with his real family.
"Just got out of the meeting. So exhausting. I miss you."
The casual lie was the final blow. They thought I was a pathetic, grateful orphan they could control.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were.
7.2
Four years ago, Madelynn accepted money from Caiden's family and vanished. She thought it was for the best-he would remain the untouchable heir while she faced her tough life alone.
When they met again, Caiden humiliated her in public, yet appeared when she was cornered by a difficult client, pulling her back into his life.
He forced her to stay as his lover, using her mother's medical bills as leverage, whispering, "What you owe me... you'll repay the same way."
Madelynn believed he despised her. Only after the accident, when he ran toward her before the explosion, did she understand-he never let go.
9.3
Chandler was the secret wife of Avery Osborn, a powerful media heir who kept their marriage hidden to avoid the scandal of her illegitimate birth.
After catching him openly flirting with a rival at a gala, Avery mocked her low status and told her she was nothing without his money.
Instead of crying, Chandler immediately signed a zero-payout divorce agreement, left her wedding ring on his glass table, and walked out.
To numb the pain of her shattered life, she went to a notorious underground club.
Drugged by a bartender, she lost her mind and ended up having a wild night with a handsome stranger she mistook for a high-end male escort.
Panicking the next morning, Chandler transferred her entire life savings of $50,000 to the man to buy his silence, then fled to her corporate job.
But at the afternoon executive meeting, her blood ran cold.
The man she had paid off was standing at the head of the boardroom table. He wasn't a gigolo. He was Brennan George, the ruthless new COO of her company.
Cornering her in the women's restroom, Brennan held up a printed copy of her $50,000 wire transfer.
"Wiring a massive sum of cash to your direct superior after a night together is classified as commercial bribery and solicitation," he whispered dangerously.
Chandler was terrified, realizing she had handed him the exact evidence needed to destroy her career and sue her into bankruptcy.
"Marry me," Brennan demanded coldly. "It's the only way to make this HR problem disappear."
8.0
Finley's stepfather gave her a sickening ultimatum: marry her predatory stepbrother Shane tonight, or he would throw her fragile mother out on the street.
To escape this hell, she used a matchmaking agency and hastily married a complete stranger. Garrison Strickland claimed to be an ordinary data analyst making $95,000 a year, driving a beat-up Honda Civic, and needing a wife in name only. They got their marriage license at City Hall that very afternoon.
But when Finley returned home to pack her bags and threw the certificate on the table, her family just laughed. Dozier ordered Shane to drag her into the bedroom to "teach her a lesson" and trap her forever.
"Come on, little sister," Shane crooned, lunging at her. "Don't fight it."
Finley's own mother just stared at the floor, blaming Finley for ruining the family, watching blindly as Shane cornered her.
Terrified and desperate, Finley smashed an ashtray over Shane's head and frantically dialed her new husband's number. Shane snatched the phone, mocking the "imaginary husband" before the line went dead. Finley felt a bottomless despair. Garrison was just a normal guy; he would never risk his life against her violent family. She was completely on her own, waiting for the end.
Suddenly, deafening bangs echoed through the house, and Garrison stepped into the living room radiating a cold, terrifying fury. This supposedly "frugal data analyst" effortlessly snapped Shane's wrist, leveled a ruthless death threat that made Dozier tremble, and whisked Finley away in a waiting Bentley. Looking at the powerful man beside her, Finley's heart raced: just who exactly had she married today?
8.3
On the night of my career-defining art exhibition, I stood completely alone. My husband, Dante Sovrano, the most feared man in Chicago, had promised he wouldn’t miss it for the world. Instead, he was on the evening news.
He was shielding another woman—his ruthless business partner—from a downpour, letting his own thousand-dollar suit get soaked just to protect her. The headline flashed below them, calling their new alliance a "power move" that would reshape the city.
The guests at my gallery immediately began to whisper. Their pitying looks turned my greatest triumph into a public spectacle of humiliation. Then his text arrived, a cold, final confirmation of my place in his life: “Something came up. Isabella needed me. You understand. Business.”
For four years, I had been his possession. A quiet, artistic wife kept in a gilded cage on the top floor of his skyscraper. I poured all my loneliness and heartbreak onto my canvases, but he never truly saw my art. He never truly saw me. He just saw another one of his assets.
My heart didn't break that night. It turned to ice. He hadn't just neglected me; he had erased me.
So the next morning, I walked into his office and handed him a stack of gallery contracts.
He barely glanced up, annoyed at the interruption to his empire-building. He snatched the pen and signed on the line I’d marked.
He didn’t know the page tucked directly underneath was our divorce decree.
He had just signed away his wife like she was nothing more than an invoice for art supplies.
9.0
Isolde woke up in a freezing, ruined stone house with a splitting headache and only five percent of her life signs remaining.
Before she could even process the mechanical system voice in her head, a flood of violent memories slammed into her.
She had transmigrated into the body of a cruel noblewoman who mercilessly tortured her beastmen husbands with a barbed whip.
And right now, she was lying in a pool of her own blood, having been shoved against the stone floor by one of them.
Outside the rickety door, her husbands were coldly discussing her death.
"Just go in and finish her. One stab, and we're free."
"If she hit her head and died on her own, then it's an accident. We walk out of here as free males."
To test if she was faking her sudden amnesia, the snake beastman Dangelo even ground his heavy military boot into her injured hand, waiting for her to snap so he could legally end her.
She was poisoned, freezing, and entirely at the mercy of the men who deeply despised her.
She was bearing the deadly consequences of a monster she never was, with a red system warning of imminent death flashing in her mind.
But they didn't know the new Isolde had awakened a survival system and Life Magic.
She swore a blood oath to the Beast God to buy herself three months of time.
Then, she turned her sights to the dying wolf beastman chained in the shed, deciding to pull him back from hell to become her very first shield.
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