Rejected Luna, Crowned by the Strongest Alpha

Caelan built a fire beneath a shelf of black rock. He roasted a rabbit, changed his bandage without complaint, and slept on the far side of the flames with his back against a tree. He had offered to take me to his pack, but he had not named it.

"A small pack?" I asked.

One corner of his mouth lifted. "Not especially."

"Do they collect disgraced princesses?"

"Only the stubborn ones."

I should have laughed. Instead, I remembered Selena taking Darius's hand.

At dawn, I told Caelan I was going north to Frostveil, my mother's birth pack. I had not seen my grandparents since I was eight, when my mother died after a sudden illness. My father had called them dangerous separatists and forbidden every letter.

"They may not want me," I said, fastening my torn cloak. "But I have to let them know what happened."

"Then we go north."

"I go north. You go wherever you came from."

Caelan stood. Even injured, he was nearly a head taller than me. "Rogues hunt these woods. Ashborne patrols will report your location. Silvercrest riders may be ordered to drag you back if your existence becomes inconvenient."

"That is not your problem."

"It became my problem when I woke beside you."

Rage flared through my humiliation. "Stop saying that as if it was a vow. I don't remember giving you permission. I don't remember choosing anything. Every mark on my body feels like evidence against me."

He went still.

"You're right," he said. "I won't use that night to claim anything from you. Not gratitude. Not forgiveness. Not a bond. But I will make sure you reach Frostveil alive. You can hate me from a safe distance."

His answer stole the fight from me.

We traveled along abandoned mining paths to avoid pack roads. Snow began before noon. Caelan gave me the drier half of his cloak and pretended not to shiver. When my boots split on ice, he wrapped my feet with strips torn from his shirt.

He did not flirt. He did not demand conversation. His gentleness made me more suspicious than cruelty would have.

Near dusk, I smelled the rogues.

Rot, old blood, and hunger.

Three gray wolves appeared between the pines. Their leader shifted into a scarred man wearing stolen Ashborne leather.

"The fallen princess," he said. "There's already a reward for you. Alive if possible."

My father's messenger had reached farther than I thought.

Caelan stepped in front of me. "Get away."

The rogue laughed. "One wounded wolf against three?"

Caelan's power rolled through the clearing.

It was not the rough threat of a common fighter. It was an Alpha command, deep enough to make the snow tremble from the branches. The rogue's smile vanished.

Then they attacked.

Caelan shifted in a burst of dark fur and muscle. His wolf was enormous—larger than Darius's, larger than any I had seen in Silvercrest. He struck the first rogue so hard the body hit a tree. The others circled, forcing him to protect his injured side.

I shifted and joined him.

My white wolf had been weakened by rejection, but she was still royal-blooded. I tore into the second rogue's hind leg before he could reach Caelan. He spun and caught my shoulder with his claws.

Pain exploded through me.

Caelan killed him.

The third rogue fled. Caelan started after him, then stopped when I collapsed.

He shifted back and dropped beside me. "Elara. Look at me."

"I'm fine."

"That is a terrible lie."

He cleaned the wound while I bit down on a leather strap. His hands were steady, but his face had gone pale. When I noticed new blood at his ribs, I pushed him away and opened his bandage.

The original wound was not a clean knife cut. Black veins spread from it.

"Silver poison," I said.

"A trace."

"A trace can stop your wolf from healing."

I dug through my mother's old travel pouch and found dried starleaf. My grandmother had taught me to use it before. I chewed the bitter leaves, pressed them into his wound, and rebound it.

Caelan watched me. "You saved me."

"You saved me first. We're even."

"Not remotely."

The storm trapped us in a hunter's cabin that night. There was one narrow bed, one blanket, and a broken hearth. I tried to sleep on the floor.

Cold seeped into my bones. Rejection pain returned in waves, squeezing my chest until breathing hurt. My wolf paced inside me, frantic and wounded.

Caelan knelt several feet away. "Your temperature is dropping."

"I can feel that."

"Skin warmth will help. Nothing more. You set the rules."

I wanted to refuse. Then another spasm bent me double.

"Over the clothes," I said. "And if I tell you to move—"

"I move."

He lay behind me on the bed and wrapped one arm around my waist. Heat poured from him. The instant his chest touched my back, my wolf stopped pacing.

Mate.

The word was not spoken aloud, but it struck through me.

I jerked away. Caelan released me immediately.

"You felt it," I said.

His silence confirmed it.

"How long?"

"Since I woke in the lodge."

"And you said nothing?"

"You had just lost everything. Telling you your wolf was tied to the stranger in your bed would have been another kind of cruelty."

I stared at him in the dark. Moonlight sharpened the planes of his face. He was painfully handsome, but it was the restraint in him that frightened me most. Darius had spoken of honor constantly. Caelan simply practiced it when no one was watching.

"A true mate bond cannot be created by a drug," he said. "Whatever happened that night did not make this."

"Then why don't I trust it?"

"Because everyone you trusted betrayed you."

The truth landed without force, and that made it hurt more.

I lay down again, leaving space between us. Minutes later, the cold dragged me backward until my spine touched his chest. He did not close his arms until I whispered, "You can."

His hand settled over my ribs, careful of every bruise.

I dreamed of my mother's voice singing beneath a white moon. I woke before dawn with my fingers tangled in Caelan's shirt and his face buried against my hair.

For one soft, dangerous moment, I felt safe.

Then an arrow shattered the cabin window.

Caelan rolled over me as silver-tipped bolts struck the bed.

Outside, a rider shouted, "By order of Alpha King Garrick, bring the princess back before she reaches Frostveil!"

My father had not merely disowned me.

He was trying to stop me from reaching out to my grandparents.