Reborn in the Ashes of My Rejected Mate Bond

I was born with a mind that moved slowly, but I was gifted with beauty that turned heads in the city. My father, Alpha Jeffrey Crawford, arranged three mate bonds for me to protect me.

The first was Saul Dixon, the Beta of the Silver Moon Pack, whom my father had personally mentored and raised from obscurity. Over time, Saul climbed the ranks, surpassing my father in influence, all to reject the mate bond with me.

The second was Sebastian Fox, the Gamma of the Crimson Fang Pack, son of my father’s closest ally. At sixteen, he fled to the southern territories to escape the burden of being tied to a mate like me—a girl who was slow-witted and clumsy.

The third was Jones Harris, a rogue Lycan Prince, gentle and kind but cast out by his royal family. After being rejected time and time again, he agreed to become my mate, promising my father he would protect me forever. But once he secured his position, he locked me away in a cold, forgotten corner of his territory and left me to die in a fire.

“You’re a stain on my life,” he said, his voice cutting deeper than any claws.

When I was reborn, I clung to my father’s sleeve, tears streaming down my face. “No,” I pleaded, my voice trembling. “I don’t want to be mated to anyone.”

Yet, somehow, the three men who had hurt me in my past life were now circling me like vultures.

A strong hand gripped my chin, forcing me to look up. “Eve,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “Choose.”

---

Everyone in the city knew that Alpha Jeffrey Crawford’s daughter was breathtakingly beautiful. At a pack celebration one spring, a gust of wind had lifted my veil, and the sight had left many werewolves speechless. Amid the blooming flowers, the blush on my cheeks outshone even the most vibrant petals.

But few knew the truth—that I was slow, my mind lagging behind my age, my speech stumbling over simple words. Under my father’s strict and domineering rule, I grew into a timid and awkward girl.

People said Saul was lucky to be matched with me. But I knew the truth—my father had forced the bond on him out of obligation. Saul had never wanted it.

One sunny afternoon, my caretaker, Angela Jordan, urged me to bring Saul some sweet soup. “He’s your future mate,” she said gently. “You should try to get closer to him.”

I nodded, though I didn’t fully understand, and obediently carried the food to the garden where Saul was studying.

Before I could even reach him, he noticed me and his expression turned cold. “What are you doing here?”

I froze, the words Angela had taught me stuck in my throat. All I managed to stammer out was, “Saul, Angela made... made soup.”

Saul barely glanced at the bowl, his eyes returning to his book. “I don’t like sweets,” he said curtly.

I nodded and turned