Rejecting The Alpha Who Hid Our Bond

Sophia POV:

The clatter and steam of the kitchen died the moment Gideon walked in, replaced by a silence so profound it felt like a physical weight.

His presence was a heavy weight that pressed down on all of us.

He walked straight to my serving station, his face a mask of cold stone.

I did not look into his eyes.

I picked up a large spoon and with a single, graceless motion, dumped a pile of plain, boiled tubers onto his plate.

I pushed the plate toward him without a word.

Gideon stared at the bland vegetables.

A low, dangerous growl rumbled from deep within his chest, the sound vibrating against the silver platters.

My hands shook slightly, but I kept my chin high.

He took the plate and walked away, completely silent.

Three days passed exactly like this.

I gave him standard portions, no herbs, no premium meat.

He came every day, eating the plain food as if my months of special care had never existed.

On the fourth day, the kitchen was a chaotic mess of hungry wolves.

A massive Warrior shoved his way to the front of my line.

"Give me the roasted meat, Omega," the Warrior demanded, slamming his fist on the wooden counter.

"You must wait in line," I said, my voice steady. "That is the pack rule."

"I am a Warrior! You are dirt!" he snarled, baring his sharp teeth at me.

Before I could speak, the air in the room grew freezing cold.

"Step back."

The voice was low, but it carried the terrifying weight of the Alpha's Command.

It was an ancient power in his blood that forced lower wolves to submit completely.

The Warrior choked, his knees buckling under the invisible pressure.

He whimpered, tucking his head down, and scrambled to the back of the line.

Gideon stepped up to my counter.

I filled his plate with the standard ration and held it out.

As he took the silver platter, his large, rough fingers brushed against mine.

A violent, crackling energy shot up my arm, a sensation so sharp and bright it stole the breath from my lungs.

It was the Electric Touch, the undeniable physical reaction between true mates.

Gideon froze.

He stared deeply into my eyes for one long second, his gaze wild and searching.

Then he turned and walked away.

That night, Eliza dragged me to the courtyard for the full moon bonfire.

"You need to get out of that kitchen," Eliza insisted, handing me a wooden cup of ale.

The flames reached high into the dark sky, illuminating the ancient castle walls.

I stood near the edge of the crowd, watching the high-ranking wolves dance.

My breath caught in my throat.

Across the fire, Lady Victoria was smiling up at Gideon.

She whispered something in his ear, and he nodded.

They turned and walked away together, disappearing into the shadows of the rose maze.

I dropped my cup.

The ale spilled over the cobblestones.

"Let's go back," I told Eliza, my voice trembling.

"Sophia, you have to face reality," Eliza said softly, her eyes full of pity. "The Alpha needs a strong Luna to bear strong pups. He will choose a noble."

I returned to my small room in the servant's tower.

I took all the rare herbs I had saved for Gideon and boiled them into a thick soup.

I gave the entire pot to Eliza the next morning.

I was done.

Later that day, Victoria glided into the kitchen.

She wore a rich velvet dress, looking completely out of place among the soot and grease. She was holding an empty silver tray, clearly here to retrieve a special order.

"Omega," Victoria called out, her tone dripping with arrogance.

I wiped my hands on a towel and faced her.

"How may I help you, My Lady?" I asked flatly.

"I am just curious about the Alpha's meals," Victoria smiled smoothly. "He told me last night that your portions are always very generous."

The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood erect, and the feeling in my fingertips, which had just registered the rough texture of the towel, vanished completely, replaced by a nauseating hum that seemed to vibrate behind my eyes.

He had noticed.

He knew exactly what I was doing for him.

And he used my silent devotion as a casual topic of conversation with the woman he intended to marry.

His silence had wounded me. His words, used so carelessly, cut deeper still.