Rejected By My Fated Alpha

In the eyes of the world, Carmelo Tran was the cold and aloof Alpha of the Tran Pack.

But in the bedroom, he was insatiable.

Werewolves were known for their primal instincts, and I had always assumed his boundless appetite was simply a reflection of his nature.

Until one evening, after a particularly intense session, he pulled away and said, "I’m taking a mate."

My chest still heaved as I processed his words, a flicker of hope igniting in my heart. But the next moment, the man who had just been wrapped around me turned distant and cold.

"I’ve decided to mark Billie," he said, his tone devoid of any warmth. "She’s a healer, and her constitution is delicate. I didn’t want to overwhelm her with my needs, so I used you to release my urges."

He paused, his eyes scanning me with indifference. "But you won’t be needed anymore. Your scent is too strong, and I don’t want Billie to be uncomfortable."

---

I lay on the bed, struggling to catch my breath.

Carmelo was an Alpha, and his dominance was as relentless as it was overwhelming. Even after ten years of serving him, every encounter left me aching and raw.

His words hit me like a physical blow, and I trembled uncontrollably.

Carmelo mistook my reaction for pain and tossed me a small vial filled with a faintly glowing liquid. "This contains my blood. It’ll ease the discomfort for about a week."

I didn’t reach for it, just stared at him, my heart shattering into pieces.

Ten years. Ten years of devotion, of surrendering myself to him, body and soul. I had given him everything, believing that somewhere, somehow, he might care for me.

But his words dragged me back to reality, cruel and unyielding.

All this time, I had been nothing more than a convenience.

"If that’s the case," I whispered, my voice trembling, "why not just remove the bond entirely? If you don’t want me anymore, why keep me tied to you?"

Carmelo’s lips curved into a faint smile, but it quickly twisted into something cold and dangerous. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. His eyes, usually sharp and commanding, now held a warning that sent a chill down my spine.

"Norah," he said, his voice low and threatening, "don’t forget your place. You don’t have the right to question me."

I swallowed hard, lowering my eyes. "Forgive me, Alpha. I overstepped."

He released me with a satisfied nod and gestured toward the door. "Be smart about this."

I rose from the bed, my body still sore, and pulled on a thin robe. I stepped out of the room and knelt on the cold floor, my head bowed.

I was Norah Gardner, the rare purple-furred werewolf of the Gardner Pack.

My mother had died giving birth to me, but she had passed on her powerful wolf, awakening my inner wolf at just twelve years old. My father, the Alpha of the Gardner