The Alpha's Rejection

CHAPTER 4

MILLIE

"Why don't you give up?" I whisper as I stare at the man with the eyes of a ghost. Distant, cold, otherworldly. He has a spirit so potent I'm sure it's the combination of powerful men who lived millenniums ago.

I already know the answer to my question. He chased me because he couldn't stand losing. Because the world is a giant chessboard to him, and we're all pawns. He's the king glued to the board, unable to tip over.

But I'm foolish enough to have a spark of hope. I cast him a lifeline to save our matebond. After hundreds of nights staring at the stars, daydreaming of the day that he would apologize, I'm anguished for him to make those dreams come true. To apologize for taking my dignity and explain his rejection. To end my burdening resentment.

He scans me from head to toe and stares at my chest, where my hard nipples are stark against the cotton nightgown. Those eyes narrow on the hand that covers my neck, blocking his mark. His eyes shift to my collarbones, chin, lips, and hair.

He stops at my eyes, which I know reflect a war. When the soul leaks so much hurt, anger, and disdain—when it flows through veins like lava—the eyes are bound to catch fire.

He doesn't flinch, doesn't waver. These past five years have hardened both his body and mind—resolves that make him a great Alpha but an untrustworthy man.

"The years have been good to you."

Good to me? Good to me? I left my pack and my parents to preserve my last bit of dignity. I fight my wolf and body day and night, boiling in desire.

My voice is flat as I say, "If you have a heart, you'll take me to the nearest temple and finish the rejection you started five years ago. End this."

"I wasn't rejecting you."

I glare at him, refusing to play his fucked up games. "You told me you didn't want me. You don't get to rewrite history, Alpha."

I use his title mockingly. A reminder that his power will never be enough to sway me.

He exhales, rising to his full height and looking around the pack. With a voice as cold as his eyes, he says, "And I didn't lie. I didn't want you."

He's a gifted man. Without lifting a paw, he can claw my chest open, gutting me.

"You're digging yourself a deeper grave." I rise from the grass, lowering the hand at my neck and feeling air brush against the four small cuts I accidentally clawed with my nails.

Leander inhales, the smell of blood perking his attention. He looks at my neck, where I blocked his mark but left my own.

"I don't fear death."

Of course, he doesn't. How could you fear death, when you are death yourself? When you are capable of killing something sacred, something crafted in the stars like a pure, inescapable love between mates, you are the blackness in the sky that tries to drown the stars.

I entwine my fingers in front of me, my bloodied hand resting on top. "I will break you one day, Alpha Leander," I promise him.

He stares at my eyes for a long, tense minute. "The years have been good to you," he repeats. This time, he doesn't scan my body. He holds my gaze.

"Alpha approaches," says the Beta. Reminding me that he still exists. I glare at him. Our business is unfinished.

Leander turns to face the Alpha of the Driftwood pack as the giant brown wolf shifts back to its human form. I look at the tree line longingly. I got so close to freedom.