Page 21 of Rejected By The Alpha Heir

Last night, I thought we had truly connected as mates. What had started as a confrontation and another evening managing our strained relationship had morphed into something beyond my wildest expectations.

Affection. Care.Passion.

I took a risk, and I let him in. I shared with him, not only my body, but a part of my soul.

If he didn’t want that,didn’t want me, so why did he hold me with such tenderness last night? How could he havefakedkissing me with such passion?

A sob threatens to rip through me when I remember the way he held me as I shattered around him, my pleasure drenching us both.

For one beautiful moment, I thought he hadfinallychosen me. I think that’s why this hurts so much.

I take a shuddering breath. His scent from the shirt, mixed with that of pine, damp earth, and the tell-tale markers of our pack boundary lines, invades my nose.

At least I’m still on Nightwing land.

When I took off running this morning, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. I just needed to escape. To outrun the words I had heard him scream at his mother. I needed my wolf to save me, and she did.

I don’t want to marry Yelena. I won’t do it.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block it out. But I can’t. His voice is all I can hear. Even my wolf feels despondent.

How can he feel this way when we were paired by the Moon Goddess Herself?It doesn’t make sense.

Our lore tells us that Fated Mates are destined to be together. Their souls are intertwined. Even if they are perfect strangers, destined mates are supposed to grow together because their compatibility and affection for each other has already been assured by fate.

It goes against logic that Austin can continuously push me away like this. Could the Moon Goddess have made a mistake? Was the Seer wrong when she prophesied that we were a destined pair?

I lean against the tree trunk and stare up at the scattered rays of sunlight that filter through the thick canopy above.

Maybe Austin and I were doomed from the start. I sigh heavily and brush a tear from my cheek.

As much as I love him, I know I don’t want to spend the rest of my life being an afterthought or a burden, just waiting for him to notice me. I want a mate who is excited to be with me, who takes an interest in my life, and who loves making me smile. Someone who is proud to have me as their partner.

I want what our traditions have told us: partners who are devoted to each other.

If Austin can’t be that, or won’t, it stands to reason that perhaps he isn’t my true Fated Mate and I shouldn’t be with him at all.

But the mere idea of not being with Austin makes another jolt of pain flare in my chest. Yet, it seems to be the only way out of this heart-wrenching spiral. If we aren’t true mates, shouldn’t we break this engagement so that we are free to find our real ones?

More tears fall down my cheek and I don’t bother wiping them.

Or maybe Fated Mates don’t exist at all. My subconscious whispers.Maybe you should grow up and stop believing in fairy tales.

A harsh laugh tears itself from my throat. There’s an echo of bitter truth in that thought. It feels sacrilegious to even consider that all I've been taught, all I've hoped for, is truly nothing more than a fantasy masked in tradition.

The sting of betrayal by my own naive belief cuts deeper than any wound Austin's words could have inflicted. My mind races, and disbelief lingers like an uninvited guest refusing to leave.

The notion that two people could be destined for each other, fated to meet, fall in love, grow together and stand by each other for the remainder of their days. A beautiful dream. But I have been wishing and hoping for so long now. Too long.

And what do I have to show for it? Nothing but heartbreak and rejection.

My thoughts are interrupted by the sudden snapping of twigs nearby. My head snaps and I hold my breath, trying to ignore the pounding heartbeat in my ears.

“Austin?” I call out, my voice trembling.

“No.”

The response is not the one I was expecting, but relief floods through me at the familiar voice.

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