The Rejected Alpha and His Human Mate
"Mate!" He growled, grabbing her by the waist as he leaned in to sniff her neck.
Her mouth hung open in shock and her eyes bulged as he swiftly dodged a spear sent their way, carrying her along with him, his nose still on her neck.
Who was this stranger? And how could he cling onto her this way in the middle of a battle? Wasn't he afraid of death?
On the clanging of the iron spear against the floor, her eyes went even wider as the red veins in them began to get visible.
Wait a minute!
She raised her right knee into his groin just then and he let out a loud groan before letting go of her.
On seeing his face, an angry snarl formed on her lips and she drew her gun, disgust filling up her entire being.
This was the face of their worst enemy, the face of the man she was meant to kill, the face of a known lunatic.
How dare he cling unto her that way with his wet snot on her neck?
"Mate?" He moaned softly as he put his hands up in the air, his piercing eyes never leaving her face.
Mate? Was he out of his ducking mind? Was he ... like possessed by an animal spirit or something?
'Shoot on sight.' The words of her commander rang in her ears, startling her.
*****
He is the all powerful Alpha of the wolves, dangerous, bloodthirsty and the archenemy of the humans but what happens when the moon goodness curses his fate by mating him to a human?
Would he lose his infamous reputation for her sake or go through eternal suffering by letting her go?
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Chapter 1
"Mate!" He growled, grabbing her by the waist as he leaned in to sniff her neck.
Her mouth hung open in shock and her eyes bulged as he swiftly dodged a spear sent their way, carrying her along with him, his nose still on her neck.
Who was this stranger? And how could he cling onto her this way in the middle of a battle? Wasn't he afraid of death?
On the clanging of the iron spear against the floor, her eyes went even wider as the red veins in them began to get visible.
Wait a minute!
She raised her right knee into his groin just then and he let out a loud groan before letting go of her.
On seeing his face, an angry snarl formed on her lips and she drew her gun, disgust filling up her entire being.
This was the face of their worst enemy, the face of the man she was meant to kill, the face of a known lunatic.
How dare he cling unto her that way with his wet snot on her neck?
"Mate?" He moaned softly as he put his hands up in the air, his piercing eyes never leaving her face.
Mate? Was he out of his ducking mind? Was he ... like possessed by an animal spirit or something?
'Shoot on sight.' The words of her commander rang in her ears, startling her.
Nodding at the command, she held the gun to his face, an angry snarl forming on her lips as she aimed to shoot only to feel a weakening in her knees.
"You can't do that to me." He whispered enough for her to hear amidst the ongoing clashes around them.
Her eyes blinked and in a flash, her gun slipped from her hand and she fell to the floor, a rippling tingle washing through her.
"Mate!" He growled, catching her before she could hit the floor.
"Let...go of ...me." She hissed.
What was wrong with her?
What was this strange feeling?
Why the hell was she panting?
Why did she...
She let out a moan the moment his bare skin made contact with the skin of her neck.
Clamping her mouth shut, her neck reddened the moment her now blurry eyes caught the raise in his brows.
"You feel it too, don't you?"
"Number 389!" Her commander's harsh voice rang into her skull making her jerk in his arms but she fell lax again.
"What the fuck...are you doing to me?" She hissed through her teeth, hatred beginning to burn through her eyes as she panted hard at the tingling sensation of their skin touching.
"Me too Human, me too...what the fuck have you done to me?" He asked almost gently, leaning in closer, his eyes locked in on hers like she was the only thing he could afford to look at even as blood splattered on them from dying comrades.
"NUMBER 389! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!? YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE SHOOTING HIM DOWN AND NOT PLAYING A DANG ROMANCE SCENE!"
She winced, her eyes shutting close at the loud voice in her head.
"What?" He asked, his voice concerned.
Forcing saliva down her dry throat, she bit down on her tongue till she tasted a metallic tang.
Just when she was about shaking out whatever spell the terrorist had cast on her, she helplessly watched him reach for the device in her ear and yanked it off.
"Ther..."
He didn't get the chance to finish his word because she had sent her fist flying into his face before rolling out of his hold.
Panting hard, she struggled to her feet, stumbling to stand erect, her eyes never leaving him even as he blinked up at her, a smirk gracing his lips.
"Blessed be the moon goddess. At least you aren't a weak one." He bared his now reddening teeth, blood leaking from his nose as he stood gracefully to his feet.
"Back off!" She yelled towards his direction repeatedly shaking her head to rid herself of the tingles speedily running through her veins and into her head..
"How could I when you belong to me? To us." He tucked his hands into his pocket, his green eyes focusing solely on her.
"You are insane!"
"Now only because of you." He raised a brow and spat out the clump of blood in his mouth.
She felt her body begin to shake...from hatred, anger...then her brow knitted in confusion...
She could feel her heart melting for him, he suddenly looked so manly in his pose, so handsome that his deadly eyes only made her thighs clap themselves together.
What was this...this sudden blooming feeling she had for the enemy of their country?
No!
She began to vigorously shake her head as her eyes widened in realization.
"No need to deny the feeling Mate. I know you love us already."
No!
She shook her head even faster as she backed away, scrambling to force her mind to think straight.
This wasn't love, no! It was...lust!
Lust!
How the hell could she lust after a stranger!?
Not just a stranger, but her enemy, the insane terrorist she should be hunting down?
How could she lust after him when her comrades were continuously falling to their death at the mercy of his followers?
"Come on." He cooed, casually sidestepping to dodge a dagger thrown his way.
Her eyes widened when he pushed his hand out to grab the weapon mid-air.
They were right!!
Not only was he insane, he was also a cult leader!
"Come on, Sweet." He took a slow step towards her again, his piercing gaze turning dangerous.
Swallowing, she let a growl escape her lips as she lunged towards him, her fist out in the air.
"HOW DARE YOU DRUG ME!?"
Casually hoisting his hands forward, he caught her midair with a belly deep chuckle as he spoke into her ear.
"Me? Drug you?"
"Unhand me this instant!" She was almost screaming with hysteria but he casually trapped her legs in-between his.
"What you feel right now is the process of being mine... you were born to be mine."
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9.6
Areli was the hardest-working medic in the Blackridge Clan, but her efforts only earned her the title of a useless burden.
Her supposed lover, Eugene, and her senior mentor, Gloria, lured her to the edge of the deadly Blackwind Cliff and shoved her straight into the abyss.
She miraculously survived the freefall, only to return and find Gloria standing before the entire clan, wearing a mask of fake sorrow.
"Look! The traitor is back! She eloped with wild males!" Gloria shrieked.
Eugene stepped up, looking heartbroken, and publicly accused her of betraying his love.
The crowd erupted, raining hisses and boos upon her, completely ignoring the horrific, life-threatening bruises that covered her battered body.
They blindly believed the lies, treating her like garbage while Gloria secretly plotted to poison her water and destroy her completely.
Areli felt a chilling sense of betrayal. How could the man who claimed to love her watch her fall with such cold eyes?
To make matters worse, her modern biochemist instincts revealed a terrifying truth: she was unexpectedly pregnant with the child of a savage Warlord she had encountered in the wild.
In this brutal, primitive world, showing any weakness was an absolute death sentence.
But she wasn't going to cower or run away.
Refusing the Warlord's offer to simply rescue her, Areli calmly placed a highly toxic herb on her drying rack and left her tent flap open.
The bait was set. Now, she just had to wait for the screams.
9.5
Alina was the eldest daughter of the prestigious Padilla family, but everyone mocked her as a defective dud who couldn't cast a single spell.
The moment she woke up, her father and younger sister Karina barged into her room, demanding she sign a transfer agreement to the Aethelgard Order-the most brutal faction on the continent.
It wasn't just a transfer; it was a legal disownment. In her past life, Alina didn't realize Karina was also reborn. She had dropped to her knees and begged to stay. Her reward? Her magic was violently drained from her veins by her own family. Her fiancé drove a blade through her chest, and her sister stood over her bleeding body, smiling. She had ruined her hands making potions for them, only to be discarded like trash.
The phantom pain of her chest being ripped open still burned behind her ribs. Looking at the hypocritical family waiting for her tears, she felt nothing but exhausting disgust. Why should she ever be their stepping stone again?
"For the honor of the family, you leave today."
Her father sneered as she calmly bit her thumb and pressed her bloody fingerprint onto the contract. This time, Alina didn't cry. She packed a single bag and walked out the door, heading straight for the deadly Aethelgard Order to show them what a true monster looked like.
7.8
The moment I saw my husband massaging his dead brother's pregnant mistress's feet, I knew my marriage was over.
He moved her into our home under the guise of "family duty," forcing me to watch as he prioritized her comfort over our vows.
The final betrayal came when she stole and deliberately broke my mother's priceless necklace.
When I slapped her for the desecration, my husband struck me across the face to defend her.
He had violated a sacred honor code by putting his hands on the daughter of another Don-an act of war.
I looked him in the eye and swore on my mother's grave that I would bring a bloody revenge upon his entire family.
Then I made one phone call to my father, and the demolition of his empire began.
9.6
My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend.
From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down."
That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny.
But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded.
I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said."
Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off."
My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers.
I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal.
Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing.
As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury.
In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho."
How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me?
Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault?
Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred?
I would not be his victim.
Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done.
I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties.
This was not an escape; this was my rebirth.
Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.
9.0
Once a pampered princess, Alaina now clutched a deactivated American Express card, staring out at Central Park. Her family’s fortune was gone, her life, over.
Her family's Hamptons estate, a four-generation legacy, was seized by Dyer Capital. The name hit her: Hardin Dyer, the poor boy she’d once scorned, had returned.
Hardin marched in, serving a divorce agreement. He'd orchestrated her family's downfall for revenge, giving her 24 hours to vacate his property. Penniless, her father faced prison, needing $50 million. Her mother forced her to beg Hardin, who sneered, offering the money for her body. Alaina ripped up the contract.
Hours later, her father had a heart attack. Desperate, she became "Lexi," a club girl enduring humiliation. In the Viper Room, Hardin's lackeys demanded she lick whiskey off his shoe for $10,000. Hardin watched. Outside, her brother Ashton's hand was threatened for a $3 million debt. Spirit shattered, Alaina returned, knelt on broken glass, offering to sign. But Hardin declared her family "dead," offering $10 million for her body, commanding her to use her mouth.
In a furious act of defiance, Alaina threw whiskey in his face, snatched the check, and fled. Yet, when he finally took her, a searing, foreign pain and blood on the sheets revealed a shocking truth: he had never touched her three years ago. Why had he let her believe such a monstrous lie?
7.6
I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me.
But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest.
The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me.
They didn't.
Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her.
They let me burn to keep her warm.
When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages.
That was the moment Elena Vitiello died.
I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York.
By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring.
"You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them.
"Burn for it."