The Alpha king's Rejected Mate

ARIA

The dress was pulled so tight around me that breathing fully was hard. The deep red fabric pressed against my chest, squeezed my ribs, and clung to my hips, as if it had been made to keep me trapped.

The high slit along my leg was the only reason I could move at all. Sitting would be impossible unless I lifted the gown first. I already knew I would not be allowed to do that.

This was exactly what my father wanted.

The only time my father wanted me seated was when I was on someone's lap. Straddling them. On purpose. Tonight, that lap belonged to Alpha Alaric Stonefang of the Ironwill Basin Pack.

This night decided my future. Not freedom. Just a different cage. I was leaving my father's rule and stepping into another man's control. I knew nothing about Alaric. Not his temper.

Not his habits. Not what he was like when no one watched him. All I could do was hope he was better than my father. That hope was small. Anyone had to be better than Victor Blackwood.

"Smile," Victor growled at my side. His fingers tightened on my arm, hard enough to warn me, not hard enough to leave a mark yet. "If you don't look pleasant, Stonefang won't think you're worth it."

I smiled right away. I always did. Saying no was never allowed. My father would hurt me in front of a crowd without a second thought. Even tonight. Even in front of the man meant to claim me. No one would stop him. No one ever had. They would call it discipline. They would praise him for being strong.

The Grand Moon Hall opened before us, bright with light. Crystal chandeliers glittered above. Soft music filled the air and reflected off the polished floor. It was beautiful. I barely noticed. Every step felt like I was walking onto a stage.

The crowd moved aside as we passed. I felt their eyes follow me, sliding over my skin. The women looked at me with sharp stares and tight smiles that held no kindness. My dress did not fit this place. Around me were greens, blues, and purples. Flowing gowns. Feathers. Soft fabric. Nothing too revealing.

My red lace left nothing to the imagination.

Victor had picked it himself. He had even refused to let me wear proper underclothes. One wrong move, one slip of fabric, and everything would be exposed. The thought made my stomach twist.

We stopped. My father bent down until his mouth was close to my ear.

"If you ruin this," he whispered, "you know what waits for you at home."

I knew. Being locked away was normal. Being beaten was familiar. But I had seen worse. I had watched him use heated tools and silver needles. I had seen him torture a man in human form until he was close to death, then let him shift and heal. Then Victor would start again. Slow. Careful. Smiling.

When I