Rejected Luna's Second Chance Mate

The antiseptic smell of the hospital had become my comfort zone. Ironic, considering most people found it unsettling. For me, it was the scent of normalcy, of my carefully constructed human life. Tonight was just another shift at Seattle General's trauma unit—or so I thought.

"Ellis, we've got incoming! Multiple traumas, ETA three minutes!"

I nodded at the charge nurse, pulling my hair into a tighter ponytail as I moved toward the trauma bay. Two years of practice had perfected my routine: check supplies, prepare IV fluids, mentally review protocols. All while keeping Lyra, my wolf, locked away in the darkest corner of my mind.

*Stay down. Stay quiet. We don't exist in this world anymore.*

My wolf had barely stirred in months. The rejection had damaged us both—me emotionally, Lyra physically. Medical science was clear: rejected wolves became permanently damaged, unable to form new mate bonds. It was why most rejected wolves either went rogue or died of heartbreak.

I'd chosen a third option: pretending I was human.

The ambulance bay doors burst open, paramedics rushing in with a gurney. "Male, mid-thirties, multiple lacerations to torso and neck, possible internal bleeding, BP dropping rapidly!"

I moved forward automatically, hands already gloved. "Transfer on my count. One, two, three—"

The patient was massive—all muscle and raw power even in his unconscious state. His black hair was matted with blood, his expensive suit torn to shreds. Deep claw marks raked across his chest and abdomen.

Claw marks. Not knife wounds.

My heart stuttered. These weren't human injuries.

"What happened?" I asked, already cutting away the remains of his shirt.

"Some kind of animal attack in the warehouse district," the paramedic replied. "His security team found him. They're outside—scary bunch, wouldn't leave his side until we threatened to call police."

A pack. He had a pack waiting.

I forced myself to focus on the medicine, not the implications. "Get two large-bore IVs in, type and cross for four units, and start the massive transfusion protocol. These lacerations are deep."

My hands moved efficiently, applying pressure to the worst of the wounds while checking vitals. His skin was unnaturally hot—werewolf hot. The wounds weren't healing as they should, which meant either silver was involved or the damage was catastrophic.

"He's hemorrhaging somewhere," I muttered, palpating his abdomen. "We need ultrasound, now."

As I leaned over to check his carotid pulse, my fingers brushed against his skin.

The world stopped.

Heat—impossible, overwhelming heat—surged from my fingertips up my arm and straight to my chest. Something inside me that had been dead for two years suddenly roared to life.

*MATE!* Lyra howled, clawing to the surface with such force that I gasped aloud.

*No. Impossible.*

The man's eyes snapped open—eyes that flashed a deep, unmistakable Alpha red. His hand shot up with inhuman speed, gripping my wrist with bruising force.

"You're my mate," he growled, his voice a rumble that seemed to vibrate through my bones.

I staggered backward, breaking his grip only because he