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Rejected By The Alpha: The Starlet's Return
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Rejected By The Alpha: The Starlet's Return Novel Cover

Rejected By The Alpha: The Starlet's Return

On my eighteenth birthday, as my bones broke and reshaped for my First Shift, I looked up at Autry from the cold marble floor. The Alpha. My guardian. And as the moon decided, my Fated Mate. I reached a trembling hand toward him, desperate for the bond to settle the agony tearing me apart. Instead, he recoiled. "I reject you," he spat, his voice devoid of emotion. Beside him, his Beta mistress smirked, wearing a diamond bought with his pack's debt. He didn't reject me because I was unfaithful; he broke our soul bond because I was a "charity-case Omega" with no political value. He threw a check onto the floor, letting it land in a pool of my own sweat, and gave me one hour to get out. But exile wasn't enough for them. To ensure I couldn't return, they framed me. While I was bleeding out at the border, they released doctored photos accusing me of sleeping with Rogues, destroying my reputation just to save his poll numbers with the council. I watched a livestream of them bulldozing my mother's rose garden, laughing as they erased my existence. He thought I would die in the wild. He thought the rejection had killed my wolf. Five years later, I stepped out of a limousine in front of his corporate tower. I wasn't the scrawny orphan anymore. I was J.B., the face of Vogue, carrying the awakened power of the rare White Wolf bloodline. Autry rushed to meet me, eyes glowing gold, thinking he could simply snap his fingers and get his mate back. He didn't notice the massive sapphire ring on my finger. Or the Alpha of the European Silver Mist Pack standing behind me, ready to tear his throat out if he took one more step.
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Chapter 3

Jayme POV:

Three days later, I was in France.

My old agent, Sarah—a human oblivious to wolves—found me a gig. Indie film, lavender fields of Provence. Far enough from the Blood Moon that I could breathe without my lungs aching.

I was unpacking in a cramped hotel room when my new burner phone rang. Blocked number.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?"

The voice was a bucket of ice water. Autry.

"Why are you calling?"

"I asked a question, Jayme!" His voice deepened into the Alpha Command . It used to make my knees buckle. Tell me where you are!

I waited for the compulsion.

Nothing.

The rejection had severed the neurological hook. His voice was just... loud.

"I don't have to answer you," I smiled. "You have no power here."

"Jayme, listen," he sounded panicked. "The council is asking questions. They know you're gone. I need you to sign some NDAs. Just come back for a day."

"Send them to my lawyer," I said. "Oh wait, you fired him. Goodbye, Mr. Villarreal."

I hung up and snapped the SIM card in half.

Downstairs, the crew was gathering.

"Ah, the mysterious beauty!"

A man walked toward me. Tall, messy blonde hair, ocean eyes. T-shirt and jeans, but he moved with the lazy confidence of a predator.

"I'm Kenan," he extended a hand. "Director."

I shook it.

Zap.

Static electricity, warm and pleasant, jumped between us.

And then the scent hit me.

Pine needles. Sea salt. Old parchment.

It was a balm to my frayed nerves. My wolf stirred from her coma, lifting her head to purr.

"I'm Jayme," I breathed.

Kenan held my hand too long. His pupils dilated. He was a wolf. A strong one.

"You have sad eyes, Jayme," he said softly. "Perfect for this role."

We went to the fields. Work was a distraction. Until the wind changed.

Thwup-thwup-thwup.

A sleek black helicopter crested the ridge, bearing the Blood Moon logo. It landed, flattening the lavender.

Autry stepped out. Dark suit, sunglasses, holding red roses like a grim reaper with a guilty conscience.

He ignored the shouting crew and locked onto me.

"Jayme!" he yelled over the rotors. "Get in the chopper. We're going home."

Continue to next part

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