Rejecting The Alpha Who Hid Our Bond

For four years, I secretly cared for my fated mate, Alpha Gideon. I spent my days as a lowly Omega scrubbing floors, but my nights were spent digging for rare healing herbs to sneak into his meals.

But when the noblewoman he intended to marry publicly accused me of using dark witchcraft to seduce him, Gideon said absolutely nothing.

He let the angry mob drag me into a freezing, damp basement to scrub iron pots. He let the Elders forge my evaluations to banish me to the deadly Northern Border wasteland. Even when they publicly stripped me of my pack mark and condemned me to freeze to death as a hunted Rogue, the great Alpha just stood there in silence.

"She is nothing but dirt," the nobles laughed, while he turned a blind eye to protect his reputation.

I didn't understand. I had ruined my hands in the dangerous woods just to keep his food perfectly clean of the silver that burned our kind.

Why was I just his dirty secret? How could the strongest warrior in the North be too cowardly to defend his mate in the light?

Looking at his golden eyes one last time, the bone-deep bond in my chest finally snapped.

"I, Sophia, reject you, Gideon, as my mate."

I wiped my tears, packed my frayed linen bag, and walked out into the winter snow. This time, I chose to live for myself.

Chapter 1

Sophia POV:

The heat of the Blood Moon Pack's grand kitchen was a palpable, breathing thing, thick with the smoke of a dozen fires.

Flames roared in the massive stone hearths, casting long, wavering shadows that contorted themselves against the ancient Gothic walls.

With the back of my wrist, I pushed a damp strand of hair from my forehead and bent again over the roasted venison, arranging it on a heavy silver platter.

I was an Omega, the lowest rank in our werewolf society.

My days were spent scrubbing floors and serving those with stronger bloodlines.

But this plate was different.

This plate was destined for the high table of Alpha Gideon, a man whose command was not merely law, but the very air the pack breathed.

My hand reached into the pocket of my stained apron, my fingers closing around a handful of rare, dried herbs.

My only free hours had been spent foraging for them, my hands raw from digging in the hard soil of the dangerous dark woods.

I tucked the herbs under the thickest, most tender cuts of meat, a small, secret offering hidden from plain sight.

Gideon never touched food with silver residue, a metal that burned our kind and caused wounds that refused to heal.

I always made sure his meals were perfectly clean.

He would eat the extra meat and the healing herbs in complete silence.

He never said a single word of thanks.

But I did it anyway, because of what happened four months ago at the Recognition Ritual.

The Moon Goddess, our creator, pairs every wolf with a Fated Mate.

When Gideon stepped up to the high altar to accept his title as Alpha, the wind shifted.

A scent hit me.

It was a wild, intoxicating mix of a winter storm and dark pine needles.

It was the Scent of my mate.

My heart began a frantic, hammering rhythm against my ribs, and my blood boiled with a sudden, intense fever.

A profound sense of peace settled over my wandering soul, a quiet stillness after a lifetime of storms.

My inner wolf howled wildly in my mind, screaming a single word.

Mine.

But Gideon was a fiercely solitary warrior, his skin a map of old battles.

He was a man accustomed to ending all disputes with the dull sound of breaking bone and the silence that followed.

He never looked at me.

I thought my silent devotion and the undeniable pull of our mate bond would eventually reach his cold heart.

Until yesterday.

I had gone down to the damp cellar to fetch winter wheat.

I heard voices echoing from behind the cold stone pillars.

"Did you see that lowly Omega sneaking extra food to the Alpha?" a high-ranking maid laughed.

"She actually thinks she has a chance with the strongest bloodline in the North."

Another maid scoffed loudly.

"She is nothing but dirt. The Alpha only tolerates her because he knows she sneaks him extra scraps."

They stepped closer to my hiding spot.

"Everyone knows Lady Victoria is the future Luna. She is a noble. She shifts into a beautiful silver wolf."

The air in my chest cavity felt as if it had been instantly drawn out, and I could only clutch the coarse burlap of the wheat sack, my nails scraping a faint, rasping sound against the fibers.

My chest tightened so hard I could barely draw a breath.

Tears spilled over my cheeks, hot and bitter.

I clutched the heavy sack of wheat, feeling entirely foolish.

They were right.

He stood at the center of their reverence, a figure carved from victory and shadow, while I was but a creature of the ten-foot-square cellar, my very breath subject to the whims of others.

The memory faded as I stared at the platter in front of me now. It was the day after I'd overheard them, and the sting of their words had curdled into a cold, hard knot in my stomach.

My hand, which had hovered over the platter, slowly drew back.

I removed the herbs I had been about to place and tucked them back into my apron. Then, with a deliberate quiet, I replaced the premium venison with the driest, toughest cuts of meat I could find.

My best friend, Eliza, watched me from the next station, her brow furrowed into a sharp line. She didn't say anything, but her silence was a heavy, pointed question.

The next day, as I prepared Gideon's plate again, I did not even bother to take the herbs from my apron. I simply piled the standard, tough rations onto his plate.

Eliza finally bumped her hip against mine.

"Finally coming to your senses?" Eliza asked, her fiery eyes scanning the pathetic plate.

"There is no point," I whispered, my voice hoarse.

"Good," Eliza spat. "You gave him special treatment for months and he never even nodded at you. Do not save good things for an ungrateful wolf."

I remained silent.

I watched the kitchen doors swing open.

The tall, imposing figure of Alpha Gideon stepped into the room.

For four years I had waited for him to see me. Now I would find out if four days of cold rations could make him notice what he had lost.