I Reborn to Reject My Pureblood Lord

I woke up back on the night Rhys’s Blood Tide Frenzy hit. 

This time, I wouldn’t offer my blood to calm him. Instead, I sent an urgent Message Crystal to Seraphina—his precious white moonlight.

In my past life, I saw Rhys’s Blood Tide spiraled out of control, threatening to tear his body apart. 

In my past life, when he commanded me to call Seraphina, I had let my pathetic, unrequited love blind me. 

I offered my own body as the cure, desperately weaving the Origin Blood Seal with him. 

Not long after, I fell pregnant with his half-blood child.

He had no choice but to plan our wedding. On the big day, Seraphina was ambushed by blood hunters. 

She sent ninety-nine distress blood signals, yet he was tied up with wedding duties and never saw a single one.

After his beloved nearly died, he laid every ounce of blame on me.

When I went into labor, he locked me away in the Blood Dungeon. He drained every drop of my Origin Blood in a ritual meant to resurrect Seraphina, leaving me and our unborn baby to die in agony.

As my life slipped away, his words echoed in my ears: I’d ruined his one true love, and both me and the child deserved to perish.

When I opened my eyes again, I was right back to that night.

1

"Maren... Call Seraphina! Now!"

A familiar violent roar slammed into my eardrums. 

I gasped, my back hitting the cold floorboards. The copper scent of blood filled the room. 

I was astonished to find that I had somehow returned to the night when Rhys went into heat in his past life.

Now, Rhys Rookwood, the untouchable pure-blood Lord of the North, was on his knees. 

The Blood Tide Frenzy had hit him. It was the century curse of the pure-bloods—a localized hell of physical agony and primal urges. 

If he didn't form an Origin Blood Seal with a highly compatible mate within seventy-two hours, his own power would tear him apart from the inside out.

"Maren! Are you deaf?!" Rhys snarled, his claws gouging deep scars into the mahogany floor. 

His towering frame lunged toward me, the sheer force of his chaotic aura suffocating me. 

This time, I didn't step forward to hold him. 

I scrambled backward, my movements sharp and devoid of any hesitation. 

Snatching the Blood-Message Crystal from the bedside table, I crushed it perfectly, channeling a burst of magic into it.

"Hold on, Rhys," my voice was eerily steady. "I am contacting Seraphina right now. She will be here shortly."

Rhys froze for a fraction of a second, his crimson eyes flashing with a flicker of confusion, but a violent spasm of pain ripped his attention away. 

I turned on my heel, walked out of his private chambers, and firmly shut the doors behind me. 

Less than twenty minutes later, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed up the spiral staircase. Seraphina arrived. 

She tensed the moment she saw me, but upon noticing my perfectly intact clothes, she let out a visible sigh of relief and simply threw me a condescending glare before brushing past me and locking herself inside his chamber.

Almost immediately, the violent sound of silk being shredded pierced the silence of the hallway. 

"Ah... no! Rhys, wait—" Seraphina’s voice trembled. "You're tearing it... Ah! You're too rough, My Lord... please..."

Rhys clearly had no patience for her delicate act. The heavy thud of bodies crashing against the furniture echoed out, instantly followed by the wet, feverish sounds of skin slapping against skin and uncontrollable, steamy moans.

Hearing them completely entangled in that chaotic heat, a genuine wave of relief washed over me. 

I didn't linger another second, turning on my heel and walking straight back to my own room.

The heavy scent of metallic blood and sweet incense clung to the grand dining hall the following dawn. 

When I pushed open the doors, the morning light hit the long obsidian table. 

Rhys sat at the head, looking immaculate. The chaotic beast from last night was gone. Beside him sat Seraphina, her pale neck and exposed collarbone littered with dark purple love bites and deep, savage teeth marks—the blatant aftermath of their frenzied night. 

"Maren. Sit," Rhys commanded. 

I pulled out a chair at the far end of the table, keeping my distance. 

I had lived in this castle. My father, his loyal Guard Captain, died protecting him. 

Rhys took me in out of obligation, but never gave me an official title, leaving my status in the castle awkwardly ambiguous all these years.

Rhys swirled the crimson liquid in his silver chalice, his sharp eyes locking onto me. 

"Seraphina and I have formed the Origin Blood Seal," Rhys announced, his tone flat, dropping the bomb he expected would shatter me. "I will be announcing our marriage to the council today. She will be the official Lady of Rookwood Castle."

He paused, his jaw tightening slightly. "You will behave. I don't want you causing any trouble or making her uncomfortable. Do you understand?"

I looked up from my empty porcelain plate. "Understood. Congratulations, My Lord. I wish you and Lady Seraphina a long, prosperous eternity."

My voice was as calm as a frozen lake. Not a single tremor. 

Rhys’s hand stiffened around his chalice. His brow furrowed in deep displeasure. 

He didn't like this. He was accustomed to my desperate, yearning looks, my silent jealousy. 

Sensing the shift in his mood, Seraphina immediately leaned closer to him, her lower lip trembling slightly. 

"Rhys..." she whispered, her voice fragile enough to break. "She looks so cold. Did I do something wrong? If my presence makes your ward unhappy, perhaps... perhaps I should return to my clan. I don't want to ruin the harmony of your home."

"Nonsense," Rhys snapped, his protective instincts flaring instantly. His cold, furious gaze pinned me to my seat. 

"Maren! Have you forgotten every piece of etiquette I taught you these years? Look at her when you speak! Your father died a hero, but he clearly failed to teach you basic respect for your superiors."

The mention of my father made my blood run ice-cold, but I forced my muscles to relax. 

"Apologize to Seraphina," Rhys ordered, his voice laced with absolute authority. "And serve her the morning wine. Now."

I stood up slowly. No anger. No tears. Just cold, mechanical compliance. 

I walked over to the silver carafe, picked it up, and moved to Seraphina's side. 

"My deepest apologies, Lady Seraphina," I said smoothly, tilting the carafe to pour the thick, crimson liquid into her glass. "Please forgive my lack of manners."

Seraphina offered me a sickeningly sweet, victorious smile. "It's alright, Maren. I know it must be hard for someone of your... background... to adjust to pure-blood customs."

Let them marry, I thought, turning my back on the Lord and his precious bride. Let the wedding of the century begin.