THE MATE SHE REJECTED

THE NEXT DAY, THE PALACE

Mr. Blackwood wiped the last streak of water from the marble hallway floor, his joints aching slightly from the long day's work.

He wrung out the cloth and folded it neatly, ready to leave when he heard footsteps approach. A guard in uniform stood a few feet away, his expression unreadable.

"The Beta wants to see you," the guard said curtly.

Mr. Blackwood raised his brows slightly but said nothing. He only nodded and followed. They walked in silence through twisting corridors until they stopped at a heavy oak door. The guard pushed it open.

Inside, a few ministers sat alongside the Beta, who lounged in an ornate chair near the hearth. Flames crackled behind him, casting a flickering light over the richly adorned room. Mr. Blackwood stepped inside and bowed low, respectfully.

The Beta smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Ah, Blackwood. Word gets around, you know. I've heard you're doing excellent work here at the palace."

"Thank you, sir," Mr. Blackwood said, eyes still on the floor.

"How about a reward?" the Beta continued, his voice light but laced with something darker.

Mr. Blackwood straightened slightly, still holding himself with calm dignity. "I don't think I need a reward, my lord. I'm just doing my job." he said.

The Beta chuckled and rose from his seat. His boots clicked softly against the marble as he approached. He rested a hand on Mr. Blackwood's shoulder. It felt heavy.

"I could change your life, you know," the Beta said quietly.

"Just a word to the Alpha, and everything could be different for you. A house of your own, a place in court. You've served long and loyally, haven't you?"

"I appreciate the offer, truly," Mr. Blackwood said, carefully stepping back. "But I like my life as it is. Simple, honest. Please, my lord, what is it you want from me?"

The Beta's smile faded slightly, replaced by something more calculating. He motioned to a nearby guard, who stepped forward carrying a polished wooden box. The lid was lifted to reveal rows of gleaming gold coins.

"I want your mouth sealed, Blackwood," the Beta said. "You can do that, can't you? No questions. No talk. No ears where they shouldn't be."

Mr. Blackwood stared at the box for a moment before shifting his gaze back to the Beta.

"I'm not interested in palace affairs, sir. I'm only here to work. That's all I've ever done. Please, let me keep doing my job."

He bowed again, deeply, then turned and walked toward the door, he didn't accept the box.

Behind him, a cruel smile curled across the Beta's face. He didn't speak until Mr. Blackwood was gone.

"Told you," Minister Therold said with a bitter sneer. "They're growing wings. The Alpha's gone soft. He should've listened when we warned him."

The Beta turned his eyes to the gold, then slammed the lid shut with a sharp clack. "He should've taken the gold. Played the fool. But now, whatever happens next... he's brought it on himself."

He turned, his cloak sweeping behind him as he stormed out of the room. The ministers followed.

---

NIGHTTIME

"Where are you going?" Sage asked, stepping into Lysander's room just as he finished buttoning up his black shirt.

Lysander glanced at him through the mirror. "Heard there's another party tonight. For the princess."

Sage leaned against the doorframe, brows furrowed. "And you're going?"

Lysander nodded, grabbing a jacket from the bed. "Yeah."

Sage blinked at him, clearly surprised. "You're kidding."

"Nope."

Sage didn't move. He just stood there, arms crossed, watching Lysander like he was trying to piece together a puzzle that suddenly stopped making sense.

Lysander sighed, turning to face him. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I don't know... It's just-" Sage tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "You've been acting strange since yesterday. Like... distant. Distracted. Did something happen? Did you... find your mate?" he asked.

"What? Hell no." Lysander said a little too quickly, waving a hand as if to dismiss the idea entirely.

Sage didn't look convinced. "You sure? 'Cause it's either that or you've suddenly developed a thing for the princess."

"I just wanted to get out, that's all," Lysander muttered, pulling on his jacket. "You told me to stop sulking and hang out more. That's what I'm doing. You coming?" He asked.

Sage shook his head. "Can't. Gotta babysit Zane. Mom's off doing one of her 'urgent errands' again." he said.

Lysander offered a tight smile. "Alright. Have fun, then."

"You too," Sage replied, still watching him with suspicion as he left.

---

The club pulsed with music and lights. Bodies swayed to the rhythm, laughter mixing with the heavy beat of the bass. Lysander stepped in and felt the energy wash over him like a wave. But none of it mattered. He wasn't here for the party.

He sat down at the edge of the room, fingers drumming nervously against his thigh. Minutes passed before it hit him, soft and intoxicating. Her scent. A unique blend of lavender and the first snow of winter.

Magnus stirred immediately.

"She's close."

Lysander stood, following the scent through the crowd. Every step brought him closer, his heart pounding with anticipation. He reached a hallway leading away from the main room, stopping in front of a closed door where her scent lingered thickest.

Just as he raised his hand to knock, the door swung open.

Astra stood there, eyes wide, but not with surprise. Almost like she'd been expecting him.

Before he could speak, she grabbed his arm and yanked him inside. The door slammed behind them.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped, keeping her voice low but sharp.

"My wolf-Magnus. He wouldn't stop. He needed to see you," Lysander said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down. She was breathtaking, dressed in deep red, her hair tumbling down her shoulders like fire.

Astra crossed her arms. "You can't just come looking for me like this, Lysander. If someone saw you-"

"Are you ashamed of me?" he cut in, lifting his gaze to hers. His voice was quiet, almost broken.

Her lips parted, but no words came at first. Finally, she exhaled.

"No. It's not that. I'm just... not ready. Not yet. I need time, and I need you to stay away until I am." she said.

Lysander swallowed hard. He'd been so excited, so hopeful. His mate. His other half. But instead of warmth, all he felt was a cold, heavy silence stretching between them.

"Okay," he whispered, eyes cast downward as he watch her leave.

---

Lysander stepped back into the glowing haze of the club, the bass from the music vibrating through his chest. The lights were dim, but not enough to hide what his eyes immediately caught, Astra, she wasn't alone, her hand laced tightly with Kieran's. The sight punched the air from his lungs.

She was smiling.

That smile he wish were for him.

The pain came fast, sharp and cold.

"He can't be holding our mate," Magnus growled inside his head, his voice deep and thunderous. "She's ours."

Lysander gritted his teeth, but he couldn't look away. Kieran raised a crystal glass of wine, his voice booming across the crowd.

"To the Princess! Eighteen years strong, and tonight-her first transformation!"

The crowd erupted with a chorus of, "Cheers!" followed by the clinking of glasses and the sweet chime of laughter. Hands clapped, feet stomped, and then came the final blow: Kieran pulled Astra into a hug-and kissed her.

Not just a peck. It was a possessive, triumphant kiss. Like he'd won.

The guests whooped and cheered, oblivious to the storm brewing in Lysander's chest.

"No. Not my mate. No!" Magnus roared, thrashing against the mental walls Lysander barely held together. His wolf was losing control.

Suddenly, Lysander's eyes glowed an eerie, blazing blue. His vision tunneled in on Kieran and Astra. He didn't remember crossing the room. He didn't feel the people brushing past. All he knew was rage.

With a snarl, he tore through the crowd and grabbed Kieran's shoulder, yanking him away from Astra. His fist flew before Kieran could even react. The punch landed square on his jaw, sending him stumbling back into a stunned silence.

Gasps rippled through the crowd like a wave.

"Stay away from my mate!" Magnus' voice, thick with alpha fury, boomed from Lysander's mouth.

The murmurs started instantly.

"Did he say mate?"

"The princess? Is he insane?"

"How dare he claim her! He should be executed!"

"Must be drunk..."

Kieran stood slowly, wiping the blood from his lip, a cold smirk dancing on his face.

"You just made the biggest mistake of your life." he said.

He launched forward with a snarl, and the tables turned fast. Lysander fought back, but Kieran was faster, stronger, and trained. Soon, Lysander was on the ground, blood pouring from his nose as Kieran landed blow after blow. The crowd, hungry for chaos, began cheering like it was a show.

"Teach him a lesson, Kieran!"

"Put him in his place!"

Through swollen eyes, Lysander saw Astra's face. For a moment, he thought she looked concerned-just a flicker-but then it hardened.

"Stop! Kieran, stop!" she yelled, stepping forward as Lysander's head lolled to the side, blood staining the floor beneath him.

Kieran hesitated, breathing hard, before releasing him and rising to his feet.

Lysander groaned and tried to push himself up, but Astra's voice cut through the noise like a whip.

"What did I tell you just minutes ago?" she snapped, her voice trembling with fury.

"I said I wanted to keep it a secret! But you-you told everyone! Do you have any idea what you've done?" She yelled at him.

"He was touching you," Lysander croaked, wiping blood from his lip.

"So what? He's my boyfriend!" she shouted. "And you... You're nothing but a weak mate-one I will never accept."

Her words struck deeper than Kieran's fists.

"What...what are you saying?" he asked, barely holding himself upright.

"I don't need you. I don't want you." Her voice cracked, and then she spat the words like venom.

"I, Astra Wynter, reject you, Lysander Blackwood, as my mate!"

The club fell silent. Someone gasped. Another covered their mouth in disbelief.

Lysander stared at her, staggered by the pain no blade could ever inflict.

Astra turned and walked away, her back straight, shoulders set-unshaken.

The crowd parted for her, but their eyes snapped back to him, cold and judging.

He didn't wait for the guards to drag him out or for the whispers to grow louder.

He turned, heart shattered, and ran from the club, the night swallowing him whole.