Rejected by My Fated Mate

For three years, Alessia had been my mate, yet she always kept her distance. Her excuse? She was scared, not ready. The night before my birthday, she promised a big surprise. I thought she was finally ready, so I booked the finest suite at the Moonlit Haven, a luxurious hotel known for its privacy and elegance. I decorated it to her taste, ensuring every detail was perfect. But as the evening wore on, she didn’t show. Instead, I stumbled upon a post from Ozzy Jones, a rogue werewolf and her childhood friend.

"In this vast world, having two hearts warm each other is the greatest happiness," the caption read. The photo was intimate—Alessia and Ozzy on a lavish hotel bed, her skin marked with unmistakable love bites. My wolf growled in the back of my mind, a low, threatening sound that mirrored the searing pain in my chest. I set my phone down, surveying the room I had meticulously prepared. It felt like a cruel joke.

Throughout our bond, Alessia had always pulled away. Whenever I tried to deepen our connection, she would flinch, her excuses endless. A headache, her period, exhaustion—there was always something. Finally, I confronted her, my voice soft but firm. "Alessia, what’s wrong? Why do you keep pushing me away?" She hesitated, her eyes downcast. "I’m scared, Albert. I’m just not ready." I sighed, pulling her into my embrace. "It’s okay," I whispered. "I’ll wait. I love you."

But that love felt hollow now. Before my birthday, Alessia hinted at a surprise, and I noticed the lingerie she’d bought—silky, delicate, nothing like her usual style. My heart raced with anticipation. I arranged everything at the Moonlit Haven, even hiring a renowned chef to prepare her favorite dishes. But Ozzy’s post shattered that illusion. Alessia wore the lingerie I’d seen, her body pressed against his, her expression dreamy and content. My wolf snarled, a raw, visceral sound that echoed in my mind.

I uncorked the bottle of vintage wolfsbane wine I’d chosen for her, pouring myself a glass. The bitter liquid burned my throat, but it did nothing to dull the ache in my chest. Then came a text from Ozzy. "Sorry, Alpha Armstrong. I forgot to block you from seeing the post. Don’t blame Alessia. I was feeling down, and she came to comfort me. We’re just friends."

Just friends? My wolf let out a derisive growl. Friends don’t share a bed like that. Before I could respond, Alessia called. "Albert, I’m sorry. Ozzy wasn’t feeling well, so I went to be with him. I’ll be home soon to celebrate your birthday, okay?"

Her voice was sweet, but it only fueled my anger. "No need," I said curtly, ending the call. I canceled the reservation and returned to our den, the once-warm space now feeling cold and lifeless. I collapsed onto the couch, my wolf pacing restlessly in my mind. Alessia arrived shortly after, her nose wrinkling as she stepped inside. "Albert, did you drink? You