Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by the Lycan King

Two years ago, at the Mating Ceremony, my fated mate, Alpha Jason, rejected me in front of the entire pack. He chose my stepsister, Maggie, simply because she had pure blood, and I was just a "Wolfless" waste.

Two years later, I returned to the Blackwater Territory with my new mate.

I met Jason at the forest entrance bordering the territory. For the sake of his pack's "interests," he dared to order me to warm my stepfather's bed and serve his new mate as a maid.

He had no idea that the "Wolfless" waste he was sneering at was now the most revered woman in North America—the Luna Queen.

The cold wind whipped up dust from the ground, slamming it against the tinted windows of the black SUVs parked along the roadside.

In the distance, two low-ranking wolves were struggling to unfurl a massive crimson velvet banner. The wind tugged violently at the fabric, making the gold-stamped letters glint sharply in the gray light:

[Mia Luna.]

I couldn't help but smirk. Drakon had mentioned before we left this morning that he had arranged "the highest level of local courtesy" to welcome me.

That was his style. Even in this backwater territory, he had to use that private pet name to declare to everyone that I belonged to him.

But that warmth and pampering lasted only a second.

When I saw the man standing directly under the banner, hands buried deep in the pockets of his custom-made suit, my blood ran cold.

It wasn't one of Drakon's lieutenants coming to pick me up.

The man, currently fidgeting impatiently with his cufflinks and not sparing a single glance at his subordinates struggling with the flag, was the very man who had discarded me—Alpha Jason.

I suppressed the nausea rising in my throat and stepped fully out of the forest's shadows.

Jason's warriors were craning their necks, looking down the road, expecting a convoy. One of them, sharper-eyed than the rest, spotted me walking alone.

"Alpha, is that... Claudia?" The warrior rubbed his eyes, his tone thick with disbelief. "The waste you rejected two years ago?"

Jason froze. He turned his head, the excitement of greeting a VIP vanishing instantly, replaced by a look of constipated disgust.

"Damn it. What bad luck."

He waved his hand in front of his face as if shooing away a fly. "I knew it. A Wolfless waste like her couldn't survive out there. I knew she'd come crawling back like a stray dog begging for scraps."

"She actually survived two years of wandering?"

A burst of harsh, mocking laughter erupted from the subordinates—the specific brand of arrogance packs reserved for exiles. "I thought she had some backbone! Turns out she really did come back to beg."

"Look at that rag she's wrapped in. Not even a decent piece of fur. Probably picked that shame-cloth out of a human dumpster."

A Gamma warrior sniffed the air exaggeratedly, sneering loudly. "And smell her—no pheromones at all. Her body must be so weak she can't even shift anymore, right?"

I couldn't blame them for thinking that.

In the past, to please Jason, I used to douse myself in cheap perfume to mimic the scent of a high-ranking she-wolf. It only ever made me seem desperate.

But I didn't need to do that anymore.

Because of my pregnancy, Drakon had forbidden me from using anything that might affect the pup's development. He had even forced me to wear this high-tier concealment cloak.

These hillbillies didn't understand. This rough-looking fabric was Royal-grade defensive gear. Its sole purpose was to mask aura and scent.

But their words revealed a deeper, more ironic truth.

Jason was displaying that ridiculous banner to suck up to the legendary Queen, completely unaware that the "VIP" he was waiting for was standing right in front of him.

At the back of the group, an elderly, limping Omega was struggling under the weight of a heavy crate of tribute gifts.

It was Mark, the stable cleaner. Years ago, I had secretly begged for his life when Jason wanted him executed for a minor mistake.

He recognized my eyes. His withered hand trembled, and he shuffled forward a few steps, trying to break the humiliation. "Miss Claudia... no matter what, it's good you're back safe. You look—"

"ROAR!"

A thunderous Alpha growl exploded, cutting him off. Mark's knees buckled, and he dropped to the mud, trembling instinctively.

"Shut up, you old cripple. Who gave you permission to speak to a stray?"

Jason didn't even look at the old man. He just turned, eyeing me up and down with the gaze of a butcher evaluating livestock.

"But since you've crawled back, you actually save me some trouble."

A cruel smile curled his lips, as if he'd just had a brilliant idea. "There happens to be a vacancy."

"Your stepfather—Old Alpha Varg of the Iron Claw Pack—has been wanting a she-wolf to help stabilize his rut ever since your useless mother died."

He took a step closer, radiating an undeniable arrogance.

"To solidify the territorial alliance between our packs, I'm sending you to be his mate. Since you can't shift, that body of yours is the only useful thing left."

His tone was matter-of-fact, as if he were bestowing some great charity upon me.

Send me to that violent, lecherous old man? Only Jason, who would sell anything for profit, could voice such a disgusting proposal.

Unfortunately, I was no longer the fool who bowed and scraped for love.

Just as I was about to tell him to shut his mouth, Jason added another twist of knife, his face twisted in malicious calculation.

"And don't think you'll be idle after you marry him. Maggie is due soon. That's the future Alpha heir, a bloodline of utmost nobility."

"She needs an obedient maid. Whether it's cleaning up the blood from the birthing bed or handling the pup's excrement... since you're 'Wolfless,' putting you to use is your final contribution to the family."

Two years. Jason was still the same selfish prick. It made me sick.

The subordinates immediately started jeering, led by his Beta second-in-command. He whistled lazily, looking me over like damaged goods.

"Did you hear that, Claudia? Alpha is giving you a way out!"

He took two steps toward me, his voice dripping with superiority. "Sending you to Old Varg might be rough, but at least the Alpha is allowing you to return and serve the future heir."

"Don't be ungrateful."

The Gamma warrior stepped back dramatically, pinching his nose.

"Exactly. For a Wolfless waste like you to be allowed to touch a purebred Alpha pup—even if it's just to clean his shit—that is the highest form of purification for a low life like yours."

"After all," he grinned maliciously, "we can't get our noble claws dirty with that kind of work, right?"

I placed a hand over my abdomen beneath the cloak, watching Jason approach.

He straightened his expensive suit again, wearing the hypocritical mask of a victor. "Go kneel over there and wait. Remember, you forced me to do this."

"If you hadn't been so useless back then, if you had awakened even a sliver of a wolf spirit, you wouldn't have ended up like this."

Hearing him, I felt nothing but a cold urge to laugh.

He actually thought I would be consumed by shame, that I would hang my head like a beaten dog and accept my fate.

In his eyes, legitimizing his pregnant mistress and selling me to my stepfather was just a "necessary sacrifice for the pack."

The boy who had once shifted into a wolf during a blizzard, wrapping his warm belly around me to keep me from freezing, was long dead.

The Jason who swore to fight the Council and protect me forever was just a joke.

Fine. Let those stupid memories rot in this forest.

After all, Jason couldn't possibly dream of the truth.

That bit of Alpha blood he cherished so much, the bloodline he was flaunting in front of me, was dirt beneath my feet compared to the life pulsing in my womb.

Because it wasn't just a wolf.

—It was the Royal Bloodline of the Lycan King.