Rejected by My Alpha Mate

I stood in the Ironcliff packhouse kitchen with my hands trembling over the candles. Three years. Three years of marriage to Marcus Bradley, and tonight I'd finally tell him about the baby.

The pregnancy test sat in my pocket like a secret promise. Dr. Helena Marsh had confirmed it this morning, her gentle smile warming something cold inside me. "Congratulations, Luna," she'd whispered, squeezing my hand. "You're going to be a mother."

I touched the mate mark on my neck. Marcus had bitten me there on our wedding night, claiming me as his Luna in front of the entire pack. Back then his eyes had burned with something that looked like love. Now when he looked at me, I saw only irritation. Disappointment.

But a baby would change that. It had to.

I arranged white roses in a vase—Marcus's favorite. The roast was almost done. I'd set the table with our good china and dimmed the lights. Everything had to be perfect for our third anniversary dinner. Maybe when I told him about the pup growing inside me, he'd finally see me again. Really see me.

My wolf stirred restlessly beneath my skin. I'd kept her suppressed for so long that sometimes I forgot what her full strength felt like. Three years ago I'd buried my royal Lycan bloodline, walked away from my title as the Lycan Princess, all to stand beside Marcus when his pack was crumbling. My father had begged me not to go. Archer had—

No. I couldn't think about Archer Campbell. Not tonight.

My phone buzzed on the counter. Unknown number. I almost ignored it, but something made me open the message.

The photo loaded slowly.

Then the world stopped.

Marcus. Our bed. The Alpha suite where he'd marked me, where we'd shared three years of what I'd desperately wanted to believe was love. And tangled in the sheets with him—Juliette Pierce.

Her bitter-rose scent seemed to bleed through the screen. I knew that scent. She was the daughter of a neighboring pack's Beta, always hanging around Marcus at pack meetings, always touching his arm and laughing too loud at his jokes. I'd told myself I was being paranoid. Jealous.

I wasn't paranoid.

My wolf snarled inside my skull. The sound rattled through my bones, shaking loose three years of careful control. The phone slipped from my hands and clattered on the tile.

I turned off the stove. Blew out the candles. Left the roses wilting in their vase.

Then I walked upstairs.

The Alpha suite was at the end of the hall. With every step, that bitter-rose scent grew stronger, choking the air. It soaked into the carpet. The walls. My lungs. By the time I reached the door, I could barely breathe through the stench of her.

I threw the door open.

They weren't in bed anymore. Marcus stood by the window buttoning his shirt. Juliette sat on the edge of our mattress wearing one of my robes, her dark hair messy, her lips