Reborn in the Ashes of My Rejected Mate Bond

I was born with a mind that moved slowly, but I was gifted with beauty that turned heads in the city. My father, Alpha Jeffrey Crawford, arranged three mate bonds for me to protect me.

The first was Saul Dixon, the Beta of the Silver Moon Pack, whom my father had personally mentored and raised from obscurity. Over time, Saul climbed the ranks, surpassing my father in influence, all to reject the mate bond with me.

The second was Sebastian Fox, the Gamma of the Crimson Fang Pack, son of my father’s closest ally. At sixteen, he fled to the southern territories to escape the burden of being tied to a mate like me—a girl who was slow-witted and clumsy.

The third was Jones Harris, a rogue Lycan Prince, gentle and kind but cast out by his royal family. After being rejected time and time again, he agreed to become my mate, promising my father he would protect me forever. But once he secured his position, he locked me away in a cold, forgotten corner of his territory and left me to die in a fire.

“You’re a stain on my life,” he said, his voice cutting deeper than any claws.

When I was reborn, I clung to my father’s sleeve, tears streaming down my face. “No,” I pleaded, my voice trembling. “I don’t want to be mated to anyone.”

Yet, somehow, the three men who had hurt me in my past life were now circling me like vultures.

A strong hand gripped my chin, forcing me to look up. “Eve,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “Choose.”

---

Everyone in the city knew that Alpha Jeffrey Crawford’s daughter was breathtakingly beautiful. At a pack celebration one spring, a gust of wind had lifted my veil, and the sight had left many werewolves speechless. Amid the blooming flowers, the blush on my cheeks outshone even the most vibrant petals.

But few knew the truth—that I was slow, my mind lagging behind my age, my speech stumbling over simple words. Under my father’s strict and domineering rule, I grew into a timid and awkward girl.

People said Saul was lucky to be matched with me. But I knew the truth—my father had forced the bond on him out of obligation. Saul had never wanted it.

One sunny afternoon, my caretaker, Angela Jordan, urged me to bring Saul some sweet soup. “He’s your future mate,” she said gently. “You should try to get closer to him.”

I nodded, though I didn’t fully understand, and obediently carried the food to the garden where Saul was studying.

Before I could even reach him, he noticed me and his expression turned cold. “What are you doing here?”

I froze, the words Angela had taught me stuck in my throat. All I managed to stammer out was, “Saul, Angela made... made soup.”

Saul barely glanced at the bowl, his eyes returning to his book. “I don’t like sweets,” he said curtly.

I nodded and turned to leave, but I caught Angela waving at me from behind the garden wall. “Closer, closer!” she mouthed, her face alight with urgency.

Reluctantly, I turned back and tugged lightly on Saul’s sleeve. “Saul, can... can you teach me to write?”

He pulled his arm away, his expression darkening. “Eve,” he said, his voice sharp. “You’ll never learn.”

Then, as if realizing his words were too harsh, he softened slightly but still frowned. “Don’t come back until after the pack trials.”

I lowered my eyes, hurt but obedient, and left.

There was a time when Saul had been kind to me. When he was a young werewolf, shivering in the cold, trying to sell himself to cover his mother’s funeral costs, my father had saved him from a group of rogue werewolves. Impressed by Saul’s intelligence and determination, my father took him in and trained him.

Out of gratitude, Saul treated me like a sister. During lessons with the pack’s elders, he would study diligently while I sat nearby, snacking on the treats Angela prepared for me. Sometimes, he’d pause to wipe the drool from my face when I dozed off.

When the elders grew frustrated with my inability to keep up, Saul would shield me from their scolding. Back then, he never said I couldn’t learn—he’d just patiently teach me after class.

I was clumsy, often breaking things my father treasured. Saul always took the blame. My father knew it was me, of course, and would punish Saul instead.

Saul never flinched, even as the whip left marks on his arms. I’d sob and beg my father to stop, but he’d just shake his head. “He’s enabling you,” he’d say. “Can he protect you forever?”

Saul would look my father in the eye and say, “Yes. Eve is like my sister. I’ll always take care of her.”

“Even if you rise through the ranks and she stays as she is?” my father would press.

Saul would pull me closer, his voice steady. “Yes. Eve is just... gentle.”

So when my father asked if I wanted to be Saul’s mate, I nodded. He was pleased, and the entire pack celebrated. Saul had always been good to me, and by then, he’d already proven himself as a rising star in the pack.

But we never asked if Saul wanted it. Maybe my father didn’t care—he only did what he thought was right, regardless of others’ feelings.

The night Saul found out about the bond, he drank heavily. I woke up in the middle of the night to find him standing by my bed, his breath heavy with alcohol, his eyes filled with pain and anger.

He gripped my shoulders so tightly it hurt and demanded to know why I’d told my father I wanted him as my mate.

But I did want him—the same way I wanted Angela, or my father, or the family dog. I didn’t understand why he was upset, why he didn’t want my love.

“Are you trying to ruin my life?” he snarled. “Because you’re broken, you want to break me too?”

His words cut deep, and I could only stare at him, tears welling in my eyes.

In the moonlight, he seemed to regain some clarity and loosened his grip. “Eve...” he murmured, his voice strained. “It’s not you.”

He stumbled out of the room, and the next day, I learned the truth—Saul had already found his chosen mate.

I didn’t understand that kind of love, but it was clearly different from what I felt for him. They’d planned to bond once Saul had proven himself in the pack.

But now, with our bond arranged, his mate was quickly matched with someone else and forced to complete the ceremony within the month.

My father never did anything halfway, and no one dared to defy him.

On the day Saul was officially named Beta, my father took me to the celebration. The pack surrounded us, their cheers and congratulations filling the air.

Even though Saul had achieved such a high rank, most of the attention was still on me. After congratulating him, they turned to praise the bond between us.

My father stood behind me, his chest puffed with pride. I handed Saul the necklace I’d prepared, but he hesitated before taking it, his face stiff.

In the distance, a car pulled up, and a woman in a blue dress climbed inside, her face streaked with tears. My father’s warriors stood nearby, their presence unmistakable.

Saul’s eyes widened, and he dropped the necklace, lunging toward the car.

“Pick it up,” my father commanded, his voice cold and unyielding.

Saul froze, his fists clenched. But as the warriors drew their claws, he turned back, his expression darkening.

He walked to me, picked up the necklace, and gripped my wrist so tightly it hurt.

My father asked if I was okay, and I lied, saying it was just the wind in my eyes.