Rejected Mate, Newfound Strength

The voices drifted through the pack house hallway like smoke, seeping under the door of the storage room where I knelt sorting seed packets for spring planting. I shouldn't have been able to hear them—the thick oak doors usually muffled conversations—but my wolf had been restless all morning, sharpening my senses without permission.

"Did you see the delegation list?" A young warrior's voice, excited and gossipping. "Alpha Marcus, Oliver, Beta Thomas, and... Kylee Hamilton as diplomatic advisor."

"No Luna Elle?" Another voice, female, surprised.

My hands stilled on the packets. Calendula. Chamomile. The Latin names blurred.

"Guess she's not sophisticated enough for European negotiations." The first voice again, dropping lower but not low enough. "I mean, she spends half her time in the fields. Hardly Luna material for international diplomacy."

The seed packet crumpled in my fist. My wolf snarled inside my chest, a sound that wanted to become real, wanted to remind them exactly what a Luna could do. But I forced her down, forced myself to breathe through the sudden tightness in my throat.

Kylee Hamilton. Marcus's new diplomatic advisor. The she-wolf who smelled like jasmine and ambition, who wore pencil skirts instead of work boots, who had been spending increasingly long hours in Marcus's office discussing "pack strategy."

And I hadn't even known about the delegation.

I stood slowly, my knees protesting from kneeling too long on cold stone. The wolves outside had moved on, their voices fading toward the main hall. I pressed my palm against the door, feeling the grain of the wood, grounding myself in something solid.

Then I reached for the mate bond.

Marcus? The mental connection felt thin, stretched like old elastic. We need to talk.

His response came after a long pause, distracted and sharp. I'm busy, Elle. Pack business.

This IS pack business. Why wasn't I informed about the European delegation?

Another pause, longer this time. I felt his irritation ripple through the bond like static. Because you're not going. We need someone who understands political nuance. Someone who can represent the pack appropriately.

The words landed like stones in still water, each one sending ripples of pain outward. I'm your Luna. I should be at your side for—

You should focus on basic Luna duties, Elle. His mental voice hardened, taking on that Alpha tone that allowed no argument. Managing the kitchens. Organizing pack events. Leave complicated diplomatic matters to those with the sophistication to handle them.

Sophistication. The word tasted like ash. I thought of my hands, soil-stained and calloused. My hair, usually pulled back in a practical braid. My scent—earth and growing things, not jasmine perfume.

Kylee has that sophistication? I kept my mental voice level, but my wolf was clawing now, desperate and furious.

Yes. His response came immediately, no hesitation. She does.

The bond went quiet. He'd severed the connection, leaving me standing alone in a storage room that suddenly felt too small, the air too thin.

My wolf howled inside me, a sound of