Rejected by the Alpha’s Choice

On our seventh anniversary as mates, the Alpha of our pack finally agreed to accompany me on a trip I’d been planning for months. But as we stood in the bustling airport, Kingsley’s phone buzzed relentlessly. It was Angel, his Beta, throwing a tantrum because she refused to eat. Without hesitation, he turned to me, his Alpha aura pressing down on me like a weight.

“I have to go back,” he said, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

I clutched the itinerary in my hand, the paper crinkling under my grip. “Please, Alpha,” I pleaded, using his title out of habit, though my voice trembled. “It’s our anniversary. Can’t this wait?”

He scoffed, his dark eyes narrowing. “Anniversaries come every year, but Angel refusing food could be serious. Do you think everyone has your resilience, someone who wouldn’t starve if they skipped a meal?”

His words stung, but I held back my tears. He leaned in, pressing a cold kiss to my forehead. “Wait for me. Once I calm her down, I’ll come right back to you.”

I watched as he boarded his private jet, his broad, muscular frame disappearing into the cabin without a backward glance. My hand drifted to my swollen belly, where our pup grew. With a bitter smile, I shoved the prenatal report back into my bag. This suffocating mate bond—I couldn’t take it anymore.

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The sterile smell of the hospital filled my nostrils as I stepped into the room. Angel Murphy, Kingsley’s Beta, lay on the bed, her golden hair fanned out like a halo. Kingsley stood by her side, his towering frame radiating dominance. His Alpha aura filled the room, making it hard to breathe.

Seeing me enter, Kingsley instinctively moved to block my view of Angel. His dark eyes flickered with something—guilt, perhaps—but it was gone in an instant. Angel, ever the manipulator, sent him off to fetch her a cup of coffee, batting her lashes sweetly. He hesitated, glancing back at her every few steps, his concern for her palpable.

My throat tightened. When I was ill, he wouldn’t even fetch me a glass of water. Yet here he was, at her beck and call.

A soft laugh came from the bed, and I turned to face Angel. Her eyes, so much like mine when I was younger, glittered with ambition.

“You should know that the Alpha is a mated man,” I said, my voice cold.

Angel met my gaze without flinching. “Of course I know. They all say I resemble the younger you. But now I’m younger, and I’m here to take your place.”

Her words ignited a fire in me. I lunged forward, grabbing her hair. “Who do you think you are? What right do you have to replace me?!”

Angel shrieked, falling to the floor as if I’d struck her. Before I could react, I felt the scalding pour of hot coffee douse my arm. The searing pain forced a scream from my throat. I stared at Kingsley in disbelief.

“What are you doing?” I cried, clutching my burned arm.

He looked momentarily alarmed, but Angel’s soft sobs drew his attention back. He pulled her into his arms, gently blowing on the small red marks where the coffee had splashed her hand. Then he turned to me, his Alpha tone sharp and commanding.

“You ungrateful woman, visiting Angel was already a courtesy. Who gave you the nerve to lay a hand on her?”

His words cut deeper than the burn. He continued comforting Angel, ignoring me completely.

“Apologize to her,” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for defiance.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.

He paused, his dark eyes narrowing as he took in my disheveled state. “Get yourself bandaged up. Don’t let it scar,” he said dismissively before turning back to Angel.

I limped out of the room, the blisters on my feet bursting with every step. The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional torment Kingsley inflicted. As a nurse bandaged my wounds, the clarity of my situation hit me like a ton of bricks.

Halfway through, the nurses were called away to tend to someone in the VIP room—Angel, no doubt. I laughed bitterly, wrapping the bandage myself. The fresh blood seeping through the gauze mirrored the wounds in my heart.

When I returned to our den, the fever burning through me urged me to rest. But then the phone rang. It was Kingsley.

“What do you want?” I asked, my voice trembling with pain.

His tone softened slightly at my distress. “Sweetheart, Angel wants your special pulled pork and spiced honey cake. Make some and bring it over as a peace offering.”

His words sent an icy chill through me. The pulled pork and spiced honey cake had always been my specialty, something I prepared for him every Wednesday for the past seven years. And now, he wanted me to share it with her?

My silence stretched on, and Kingsley’s patience wore thin. His Alpha tone returned, sharp and commanding. “Is it so hard to make a meal? You caused Angel to get hurt. Her wanting your dish is a gesture of goodwill. Don’t be ungrateful.”

“If you don’t deliver it within an hour, there’s no point in continuing this,” he snapped before hanging up.

I sat there, the phone still in my hand, the weight of his words pressing down on me. The mate bond that once felt like a sacred connection now felt like a chain, suffocating and unbreakable. But I knew one thing for certain—I couldn’t let this continue. Not for me, and not for the pup growing inside me.