His Rejected Luna

The grand hall of the Shadowmoon Pack is alive with murmurs, excitement crackling in the air like static before a storm. The towering stone walls, adorned with banners of our pack's insignia—a silver wolf beneath the crescent moon—seem to shimmer in the candlelight.

Wolves stand shoulder to shoulder, anticipation thick between them.

Tonight is supposed to be the night when fate aligns. When the Moon Goddess herself confirms what I have always known in my heart.

That Alpha Kieran Blackwood is my mate.

My fingers tremble as I press them against my gown, smoothing out invisible creases in the silky blue fabric. It's the color of the night sky, Kieran's favorite. A part of me foolishly hopes he will notice, that he will see me as more than just another pack member.

I swallow against the nerves coiling in my stomach. He hasn't arrived yet. The whispers around me grow louder.

"What if she's wrong?"

"He's the Alpha. He could choose someone else."

"Why would he reject her? She's strong, and she's always been loyal."

My heart clenches. No. He wouldn't reject me. He can't.

I steel my spine and lift my chin, forcing confidence into my stance. I am Aria Everhart, Beta's daughter, a skilled warrior, and soon-to-be Luna of the Shadowmoon Pack.

When the heavy oak doors finally swing open, the entire room hushes.

Kieran strides in like he owns the world, like the air bends to accommodate him. And maybe it does. He's always had that effect—a force of nature wrapped in a man, with a presence that demands submission.

He's dressed in all black, the tailored fabric emphasizing his broad shoulders and powerful frame. His golden eyes flicker across the room, unreadable, yet piercing. He moves like a predator—slow, deliberate, utterly in control.

My breath catches as our eyes meet.

For a moment, everything fades—the crowd, the whispers, even the steady drumming of my own heartbeat. The mate bond ignites between us, pulling me toward him, stronger than gravity itself.

The room is suffocating, too small for this moment.

Then, his lips part.

And everything shatters.

"I, Alpha Kieran Blackwood, reject you, Aria Everhart, as my mate and future Luna."

A gasp ripples through the crowd.

The words hit me like a silver blade to the chest, sharp and cold. I stumble back, my hands instinctively clutching my stomach as if to hold myself together.

No. This isn't happening. This isn't how it's supposed to be.

The bond tightens like a noose around my throat, thrumming with pain. I expect to see hesitation in his eyes, the same ache that's clawing through me.

But Kieran's face is a mask of stone.

Unyielding. Detached.

I shake my head, my voice barely a whisper.

"You don't mean that."

A muscle ticks in his jaw. "I do."

No. No, he doesn't. The mate bond isn't something you can ignore. It's sacred, unbreakable. I feel it—so why doesn't he?

Desperation grips me. "Kieran, please—"

His expression hardens. "Enough."

The word lashes against me, final and merciless.

My knees buckle, but I don't let myself fall. I can't show weakness. Not now. Not in front of him. The pain of rejection tears through my soul like wildfire, burning away the last sliver of hope I had.

The murmurs grow louder, judgmental eyes pressing against me like a weight I can't bear.

"Why would he reject his own mate?" someone whispers.

"Maybe she's not worthy."

I clench my fists, nails biting into my palms. I want to scream, to demand an explanation, to force him to feel what I feel.

But he's already turning away, dismissing me like I'm nothing.

Like I never mattered at all.

Pain I didn't think possible sears through me, a deep, soul-rending agony that has nothing to do with silver or claws or fangs—only the cold finality of rejection.

I take a shaky breath, swallowing the sob clawing at my throat. If this is what he wants, then I refuse to beg. I refuse to break in front of him.

Squaring my shoulders, I force steel into my voice. "Then I, Aria Everhart, accept your rejection."

The moment the words leave my lips, a sharp pain explodes in my chest. It's worse than I imagined, like something sacred is being torn from me, leaving only a hollow, gaping wound.

But I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me crumble.

I lift my chin, meeting his gaze one last time. His expression doesn't change. No flicker of regret. No sign of pain.

As if I never meant anything to him at all.

A lump forms in my throat, but I force it down. I turn on my heel, pushing through the gathered wolves, ignoring the whispers, the pity, the disbelief.

I don't stop walking.

Not when I reach the heavy doors.

Not when the night air hits me, cold and biting against my skin.

Not even when my legs finally give out, and I collapse onto the stone steps, gasping for breath, as if the very act of existing has become too much.

The rejection should have severed the bond completely.

So why do I still feel it?

Why do I still hear his voice in my mind, low and agonized, whispering a name?

My name.

But when I turn back, Kieran is gone. As if he was never there at all.