The Rejection of Fate: The High Alpha’s Chosen Mate

Solenn

I feel like death.

The doorbell rings. The sound slices through my skull. I jolt and bury my face into the pillow, cringing as the noise echoes in my ears.

I grunt, hauling my heavy limbs out of bed. My head spins. I plant a hand against the wall to steady the room. As soon as I lift my foot, my stomach lurches. I slap a hand over my mouth and stumble toward the basin in the corner.

I vomit until my throat burns. I stare at the mess, panting. I haven't eaten in a day, yet my body still finds things to purge.

The bell rings again. I let out a sharp, jagged scream of frustration. I snatch my white fuzzy blanket, wrapping it tight around my shoulders like a shield. I shove my feet into slippers and limp toward the door.

It rings a third time just as I hit the hallway. A scowl carves itself into my face. I storm down the stairs. Most people would have taken the hint and left.

I stop at the mirror by the door and freeze. My jaw drops. I look like a corpse from a low-budget horror flick. I frantically rake my fingers through my matted hair, but it’s a lost cause.

The bell rings again.

"Screw it," I mutter.

I force a fake, plastic smile onto my face and throw the door open. A boy stands there. He blinks, his expression shifting from impatient to slightly terrified.

'You could have put a bra on,' Eva grumbles in my head.

'You could have stopped me from puking,' I snap back.

"Uh, is this the Thorne residence?" he asks. He stays a safe distance back.

"Yes. Who are you looking for?"

I don't know him. I know every wolf my age in this pack, but his face is new.

"I'm looking for Beta Thorne," he stammers.

"My dad. He’s in meetings all morning." I wiggle my toes in my slippers, trying to bleed off the nervous energy humming in my gut.

"You're the future Beta?" He looks me up and down. "You don't really look like one."

I stare at him, dead-eyed. My nose is too stuffed to catch his scent. "And what is a Beta supposed to look like?"

I’m too exhausted for a witty comeback. I just want him gone.

"Just saying," he shrugs. "Anyway, tell your dad the sixty wolves from the Baxter pack are here for the convention."

"I'll tell him. But you'll probably see him before I do." I take a step back into the cool shadows of the house. "What’s your name?"

He grins and holds out a hand. I stay still.

"I’m sick. You don't want this," I say, punctuating the warning with a wet sniffle.

"Finn. Beta of the Baxter pack." He chuckles and nods. "I'll let your father know we met."

I watch him walk away before I bolt the door shut. The house is silent. I must be home alone, or someone would have dragged me out of bed by now.

I catch my reflection again.

"Jesus Christ," I whisper. My skin looks gray.

'All that money you spend on skincare and you still look like that,' Eva sneers.

'For a literal soul-bond, you’re a real bitch today,' I retort.

I head back up the stairs. My blanket slips, dragging on the carpet. I growl, snatching it up and clutching it to my chest. I carry the basin to the bathroom to wash it out. I can't handle the smell of sick lingering in my room.

My ponytail has given up. I pull the elastic out and let my hair hang limp around my face. I slide under the duvet and let out a long, shaky sigh. I hug my favorite pillow and drift off.

An hour later, a roar shatters my sleep.

"Solenn!"

Heavy work boots thud against the wooden stairs. My dad. Mom is going to kill him for scuffing the wood.

"Yes?" I shout back. I roll onto my side, watching the door.

He knocks hard enough to rattle the frame. "Can I come in?"

"Yes."

He tramples inside, nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush. He looks frantic.

"Yes, dad?" I ask. I keep my voice flat, praying he doesn't stay long.

Dad looks like hell. He’s tired and overworked, but he’s here. That’s just how he is. If he isn’t taking me for a walk, he’s dragging me to the shooting range to spend time together.

"The Luna wants you," he says. His massive frame makes my bedroom furniture look like dollhouse pieces.

"Why?" I groan. I shove my face back into the pillow. "I'm dying, Dad."

"She wants help with a cake. Or something like that." He looks down at me, his hands clasped. He actually looks a little sorry for me.

"I’m still sick." I sit up just enough to offer him my forehead. "Check."

He presses a palm to my skin and recoils after a second. "Goddess, Solenn. You’re burning up. Maybe hit the clinic first."

"Exactly. And Luna Stella is pregnant. I shouldn’t be anywhere near her." I collapse back into my mountain of pillows, hoping that settles it.

"You’re twenty-three," he says, his brow furrowing. "Quit making excuses. If you don't want to go, just say so."

I sit bolt upright. "I don’t want to bake a cake with Luna Stella."

He shrugs, unbothered. "Too bad. I already told her you’d be there. Shower and move. She’s waiting at the Alpha house."

He smirks and turns to leave. I hear his heavy work boots thumping against the floorboards as he heads for the stairs. I smirk back, reaching out with my mind.

'Mom, Dad is wearing his work boots on your new carpets.'

I feel her instant spike of fury through the bond. She just spent a fortune on those rugs.

"Asher!" my mother screams from somewhere downstairs.

I hear my father curse. His footsteps stop dead halfway down the flight. I giggle, pushing the blankets off. The room spins. I wait for the world to stop tilting before I stand.

I wobble into the bathroom and catch my reflection. I look hideous. I reach over and flick the shower on. While the water warms up, I strip and shove my hair into a shower cap. I don’t have the energy to wash it again.

I lean against the cold tiles while I brush my teeth. I stare at the walls, wondering if some new art would make this place feel less bleak. I spit, rinse, and step into the steam.

The water is scalding. My body can't decide if it’s freezing or boiling, but the heat feels right. I stay in there too long, letting the steam clear my head.

'Better,' Eva whispers. She’s finally quiet.

I can breathe a little easier, even if my nose is still a mess. I dry off, slather on moisturizer, and put way too much effort into my skincare. I need to look alive.

I pull on a pair of ripped jeans and a black sleeveless shirt with shoulder pads. It’s an old one of my mom’s. It makes me feel sharper. I tie my curls back, snap on a belt, and shove my feet into flat boots.

Twelve earrings. One bracelet. My phone. I grab my bag, but it’s heavy. I find a research book inside and toss it onto my bed. I’ll air the room out later while I work for the Alpha.

I head down the stairs, white-knuckling the railing.

"I'm out, Dad!" I yell.

The kitchen door swings open. Dad pokes his head out. He has a smear of red lipstick on the corner of his mouth. I raise an eye-brow. I’m not touching that.

"I told the doctor you’re coming," he warns. "Actually go, Solenn."

"Tell Mom goodbye. I assume she’s... busy." I shudder.

They’ve been obsessed with each other since they were fifteen. It’s sweet, sure, but I’ve almost walked in on them defiling half the rooms in this house. Including my office.

I crack my neck, grab my keys, and step outside. The breeze hits my bare arms, making me shiver. I start walking left, then curse and spin around. The clinic is the other way.

It’s a short walk. The white colonial building looms ahead. I walk inside and hit the bell on the desk.

"Hey, Solenn," the secretary says, flashing a smile.

I try to smile back while she looks down at her list.

"You're with Elias today. Go on up, he’s free," the girl says with a grin.

"Thanks, Cross." I give her a tired wave and start the climb.

The clinic is small and quiet. People usually head to the pack hospital for the big stuff, leaving this place for check-ups and sick kids. I reach the top of the stairs and sink into a chair. My body feels like lead.

The door clicks open. Elias pokes his head out and smiles. "Solenn. Come on in."

I haul myself up. Every bone in my body protests the movement.

"I have a cold. Or the flu. My dad is losing his mind as usual," I say, dropping into the patient chair.

Elias chuckles. He pulls a thermometer from a drawer. "The Beta just cares. Can't fault him for that. What are the symptoms?"

"Fever. Migraine. I can't keep anything down," I mutter, rubbing my aching temples.

"Any chance you're pregnant?"

I snort. "My celibacy streak says absolutely not."

He grins and moves in with the penlight. He checks my throat and then wraps the blood pressure cuff around my arm. I hate the way it squeezes, but Elias is thorough. He used to tutor me in math. He’s the reason I went from a failing grade to an A in a month. He doesn't miss details.

"I’ll give you something for the head," he says, scribbling on a pad. "But the fever just needs to break. The Alpha’s kids had this last week. You were training them, right?"

"I was." I give him a rueful look. "I thought I’d dodge the bullet. Guess I’m not that lucky."

I stand up carefully. He holds the door for me. "I’ll have the meds dropped at your place by tonight."

"Thanks, Doc."

I head back down. I have to see the Luna now. Everyone else is tied up with the Alpha Convention. My dad, the Gamma, the Alpha—they’re all buried in meetings.

I nod to Cross on the way out and step into the light. The sun is out, but the wind bites at my skin. I shiver, pulling my coat tighter. The Alpha’s house is only a few minutes away.

I actually like the walk. I’ve spent too many days hunched over a desk doing paperwork. My pack is a bit strange; the Alpha family lives in their own house instead of the packhouse. I’m pretty sure Luna Stella made that happen. She’s quiet and stays out of the spotlight. That works for my mom, though. She loves being the one to greet the pack and handle the social side of things.

Stella is on her fourth pregnancy in five years. I suppose she’s too busy being a mother to be a public figure. Visitors always ask why the Alpha doesn't live in the main house. I usually just tell them the Luna wants a quiet place for the kids.

I reach the front door and knock hard. I take a step back, waiting.

The door swings open. Alpha stands there, a genuine smile breaking across his face.

"Hello, Solenn. What brings you here?" Martel asks. He sounds confused.

"Apparently your Luna is looking for me," I say, giving him a quick, respectful bow.

"Oh, she’s actually at the packhouse. I'm heading that way now. I'll walk you." He steps back inside to grab his coat.

When he joins me outside, he shivers and glares at the gray sky. "Winter is really here, isn't it?"

'He never talks to us this much,' Eva groans. 'What are we supposed to do for the next sixty seconds?'

"Yeah," I say, forced and awkward. "It was icy this morning. I already miss summer."

"Me too. Ryker won't stop talking about Santa. He has a list of demands longer than my arm." Martel grumbles, shaking his head as we start walking.

"That’s rough. But Halloween is first." I can’t help the small laugh at his expense.

"Don't remind me. They just want the sugar. I’m convinced their life goal is to bankrupt me with dental bills." He runs a hand through his hair, picking up the pace.

"They’re good kids, Martel. You’re doing fine."

He sighs. "I’m an old dad. I hear them talking about how fun their friends' dads are. Stella and I didn't find each other until I was thirty-eight. Sometimes I feel like I'm failing."

'Why is he getting so deep?' Eva whimpers. 'Do we say something?'

I block her out. "Ryker stopped a boy from bullying a girl at practice the other day. He gave him a lecture that would make a Beta proud. You're doing a great job. Trust me."

I reach the packhouse and hold the door open for him.

"She’s in the kitchen. I think the kids are in there too," he says.

"Good luck with the convention," I call out, turning toward the back of the house.

"Thanks, Solenn. Good luck with the cake."

I push the kitchen door open and stop dead. My eyes go wide. "Wow."

Flour is everywhere. It’s on the floor, the walls, and the kids. Luna Stella is standing in the middle of the wreckage, crying.

"We had an accident," she whispers.

"I can see that." I grab a broom.

I sweep in silence. Stella wipes down the counters, her face flushed with embarrassment. The kids are huddled in chairs, mesmerized by an iPad to keep them out of the crossfire.

"Did your father mention the conference?" Stella asks.

"Hard to miss. I can't believe how many Alphas showed up." I start measuring out fresh flour.

"Martel did a great job organizing it," she says, pulling eggs from the fridge.

We work fast. The tension in the room settles as the batter comes together. I lean down to slide the pans into the oven, the heat hitting my face.

A low, guttural growl rips through the kitchen. It vibrates in my chest.

"Mine," a voice snarls.

I stand up slowly. Stella looks terrified, her face drained of all color. I don't think. I just move, stepping firmly between my Luna and the man standing in the doorway.

Stella lets out an ear-piercing shriek. Footsteps thunder toward us from every hallway in the house.

'I don't understand,' Eva says, her voice sharp and predatory. 'But I'm ready.'

We protect the Luna. No matter what.