Rejected Luna, Claimed by the King

Adella POV The Great Hall of the Hyde Pack smelled of roasted venison, stale wine, and the suffocating musk of a hundred wolves posturing for dominance. But to me, it smelled like rejection. I stood in the shadows behind a massive stone pillar, clutching the stem of my empty glass like a lifeline. My dress, a faded grey chiffon that had seen better days, made me invisible among the silks and velvets of the high-ranking she-wolves. "Watch it, wolfless." A passing Omega waiter slammed into my shoulder, sending a splash of red wine cascading down my skirt. He didn't apologize. He didn't even pause. Why would he? In a world governed by the strength of one's beast, I was less than nothing. A genetic defect. A charity case kept around only because my parents had died serving the former Alpha. I bit my lip, fighting the sting of tears. Don't cry. Do not let them see you break. At the head table, Braydon Hyde stood up. The room fell silent instantly. He was handsome in that rugged, golden-boy way that had made my heart race since we were children. He was my best friend. My protector. He had promised me, under the old oak tree just last week, that my lack of a wolf didn't matter to him. "Tonight," Braydon's voice boomed, amplified by his Alpha aura, "marks a new era for our Pack." He turned, extending a hand not to me, but to the woman seated beside him. Katherine Parrish. The daughter of a neighboring Alpha. She was stunning, lethal, and possessed a wolf as vicious as her smile. "I present to you my choice," Braydon announced, his eyes sweeping over the crowd but deliberately avoiding my dark corner. "Witnessed by the Moon Goddess, my future Luna, Katherine Parrish!" The applause was thunderous. It crashed over me like a physical blow. I saw Katherine lean in, whispering something in his ear, and Braydon laughed—a sound that shattered the last fragile hope in my chest. He wasn't just choosing a political alliance; he was erasing me. I couldn't breathe. The air in the hall became too thin, too hot. Turning on my heel, I fled. I ran through the stone corridors, my wine-stained dress clinging to my legs, until I burst into the sanctuary of the Pack Library. I slammed the heavy oak door shut and collapsed against it, sliding down to the cold floor. Here, surrounded by the scent of dust and ancient parchment, I finally let the sob escape my throat. "Pathetic," I whispered to the empty room. "You were a fool to believe him." "Tears are a waste of hydration, little one." The voice was deep, vibrating through the floorboards and straight into my bones. I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs. I looked up. Standing in the shadows of the history section was a man I had only seen in terrifying bedtime stories. Dallas Marshall. The Alpha King. The Lycan. He was massive, his tuxedo straining against shoulders that seemed wide enough to carry the world. But it was his eyes that paralyzed me—pitch black, abyssal, and locked onto me with a predatory intensity that made my skin prickle. The air around him didn't smell like the library anymore. It smelled of a violent thunderstorm and crushed cedar. It was overwhelming. Intoxicating. "King Marshall," I choked out, scrambling to stand. My knees were shaking so hard I nearly fell again. "I... I didn't know you were in here. I'll leave." "Stay." It wasn't a request. It was a command that vibrated in the air, though as a wolfless, I shouldn't have felt the weight of an Alpha's Command. Yet, my feet rooted to the spot. Before I could speak, the muffled sound of Braydon's voice drifted through the door, announcing his engagement feast. The pain in my chest flared again, sharp and agonizing, as if my soul was being torn in half. My legs gave out. I didn't hit the floor. In a blur of movement too fast for human eyes, Dallas was there. His arms, hard as iron, caught me. Zap. The moment his skin brushed my bare arm, a jolt of electricity shot through me. It was violent, hot, and undeniable. I gasped, staring up at him in shock. His pupils blew wide, swallowing the whites of his eyes. A low, guttural growl rumbled in his chest—a sound that was entirely animal. "Take me away," the words left my mouth before I could stop them. It was madness. He was the most dangerous creature on the continent, a man known for slaughtering entire rogue packs. But looking at the door where Braydon was celebrating my destruction, I didn't care. Dallas looked down at me, his expression unreadable, his jaw ticked. "If you leave with me, Adella, there is no coming back. You cross the threshold of my territory, and you belong to the dark." "Good," I whispered, the despair turning into something cold and sharp. "I'm tired of the light." The interior of his matte black Maybach was a different world. Silent. hermetically sealed from the pain of the Hyde estate. We had been driving for twenty minutes. I had found a crystal decanter of whiskey in the center console and drank from it like it was water. The burn in my throat was the only thing distracting me from the phantom electricity still buzzing where he had touched me. I looked at him. He drove with one hand, his profile sharp and cruel against the passing city lights. He was power incarnate. A mountain that Braydon Hyde could never hope to climb. If I wanted to survive—if I wanted to make them pay—I needed a weapon. Or a shield. The alcohol gave me a courage I didn't possess. "Marry me," I blurted out. The car didn't swerve, but the air pressure inside the cabin dropped instantly. Dallas didn't look at me. His grip on the steering wheel tightened until the leather creaked. "You are drunk, Ms. Everett." "I'm desperate," I corrected, my voice slurring slightly. "I'm wolfless. I have no family. Braydon will kick me out by morning to please his new bitch. I need protection. And you... you need something too, don't you? Everyone wants something." He remained silent for the rest of the drive, the tension thick enough to choke on. When the elevator opened directly into his penthouse foyer, I stumbled out, the adrenaline fading into exhaustion. The space was cold, minimalist, and terrifyingly empty. "Wait here." Dallas walked to a large abstract painting on the wall, moved it aside, and opened a hidden safe. He pulled out a single document and a fountain pen. He turned to me, his dark eyes gleaming with something that looked dangerously like triumph. "You asked for marriage," he said, his voice smooth as velvet wrapped around a dagger. He placed the paper on the marble console table. "This is a Binding Protection Contract. It grants you my name, my resources, and my absolute protection." He leaned in, his cedar scent enveloping me, making my head spin. "But in return, Adella, I own you. Your life. Your safety. Your future. It all becomes mine." I looked at the paper. The words swam before my eyes. Binding... Marshall... Wife... I didn't read the fine print. I didn't care about the consequences. I just wanted the pain to stop. I wanted to be untouchable. I grabbed the pen and scrawled my signature. Adella Everett. The moment the ink dried, a wave of dizziness hit me. The room tilted. The last thing I felt was Dallas's arms scooping me up against his hard chest, and the faint sensation of his lips brushing against my forehead as the darkness took me.