Rejected by My Alpha Mate, Claimed by the Billionaire Wolf King

The full moon hung low in the night sky, casting a silvery glow over the Blackwood Pack's sacred clearing. Tonight was supposed to be the most magical night of my life—my eighteenth birthday, the night when every werewolf finally senses their fated mate. I stood at the edge of the crowd, my heart pounding like a war drum. My name is Isabella Thorne, and for years, I'd dreamed of this moment. The Moon Goddess pairs us with our perfect match, the one person who completes our soul. And deep down, I'd always hoped—no, prayed—that it would be him. Ethan Blackwood. The future Alpha of our pack. Tall, broad-shouldered, with piercing green eyes and dark hair that fell just right over his forehead. He was everything an Alpha should be: strong, commanding, protective. And he'd always been kind to me. Stolen glances during pack runs, lingering touches when we'd train together. He'd even defended me from the pack bullies who mocked me for being an orphan, raised by my cruel stepmother and her spoiled daughter, Victoria. Tonight, under this moon, I was sure he'd feel it too. The bond. The pull. The ceremony began. One by one, newly turned eighteen-year-olds stepped forward, inhaling deeply as the mate bond revealed itself. Cheers erupted when pairs found each other—kisses, tears of joy, promises of forever. Then it was my turn. I stepped into the center of the circle, my white dress flowing around me like a dream. The pack elders nodded approvingly. I closed my eyes, breathing in the cool night air, waiting for that electric spark. And there it was. A rush of warmth flooded my veins, like liquid fire. My wolf, Luna, stirred inside me for the first time, whispering one word: Mate. My eyes snapped open, searching the crowd. And there he was—Ethan, standing on the raised platform with his father, the current Alpha. His gaze locked on mine, intense and unblinking. He felt it. He had to. I took a tentative step forward, my lips curving into a smile. This was it. Our happy ending. But then... his expression changed. His jaw tightened. His eyes darkened—not with love, but with something cold. Disgust? No. That couldn't be right. Victoria, my stepsister, sauntered up beside him, her blonde hair gleaming under the moonlight, her red dress hugging her perfect curves. She was everything I wasn't—confident, beautiful, popular. The pack's golden girl. Ethan's hand reached out, wrapping around Victoria's waist possessively. He pulled her close, right there in front of everyone. Gasps rippled through the crowd. My heart stuttered. "Ethan?" My voice came out small, barely audible. He finally spoke, his voice booming with Alpha authority, amplified by the pack link so no one could miss it. "Isabella Thorne," he said, his tone laced with ice. "I, Ethan Blackwood, future Alpha of the Blackwood Pack, reject you as my mate." The world tilted. Pain exploded in my chest, like claws ripping through my soul. The mate bond—half-formed and now severed—burned like acid. I staggered, falling to my knees in the dirt. Luna howled inside me, a mournful cry of agony. "Why?" I whispered, tears blurring my vision. The pack watched in stunned silence. Rejection was rare. Brutal. It could kill a weaker wolf. Ethan's lips curled in disdain. "Because you're weak, Isabella. An orphan with no status. No power. Victoria is the one worthy of being Luna. She's strong, beautiful—everything a true mate should be." Victoria smirked, leaning into him. "Poor little Izzy. Always the charity case." The crowd murmured. Some looked pitying. Others whispered agreement. I'd always been the outsider—the girl whose parents died in a rogue attack when I was a baby. Raised by my stepmother, who favored Victoria endlessly. But Ethan... he'd been different. Or so I'd thought. "I felt the bond," I choked out, clutching my chest. "You can't just—" "I can," he snarled. "And I do. Accept it, Isabella. Or the pain will kill you." Tears streamed down my face. The rejection bond tore deeper, like knives twisting in my heart. Luna whimpered, retreating into the shadows of my mind. Everyone was watching. Waiting. If I didn't accept, the unclaimed bond would drive me mad. Or worse. With shaking hands, I pushed myself up. "I... I, Isabella Thorne, accept your rejection." The words tasted like ash. A collective sigh went through the pack. Ethan turned away, already nuzzling Victoria's neck. He marked her right there—his teeth sinking into her skin as she moaned dramatically. The mating ceremony continued without me. Banished from the circle, I stumbled back to the pack house, ignoring the stares and whispers. "Weak." "Pathetic." "Good riddance." My stepmother waited at the door, arms crossed. "Pack your things. You're no longer welcome here. Ethan has declared you rogue-effective immediately." Rogue. No pack. No protection. Easy prey for any enemy. I didn't argue. I couldn't. That night, I packed a single bag. No goodbyes. No tears left to cry. By dawn, I was gone—hitchhiking to the city, far from werewolf territory. New York. A place where humans outnumbered us, where I could hide my wolf and pretend to be normal. For three years, I survived. Waitressing in dingy cafes, sharing cramped apartments with strangers. Luna stayed silent, scarred from the rejection. No shifting. No pack runs. Just survival. I built walls around my heart. No more dreaming of mates. No more fairy tales. Until that rainy Friday night. I was working late at Elixir, an upscale rooftop bar in Manhattan. The kind of place where billionaires rubbed shoulders with models. Tips were good—if you could handle the egos. "Another whiskey, neat," a deep voice rumbled from the end of the bar. I looked up—and froze. He was... magnificent. Tall, at least 6'5", with a tailored black suit that hugged broad shoulders and a muscular frame. Dark hair, sharp jawline shadowed with stubble, and eyes like molten silver—piercing, predatory. He exuded power. Raw, undeniable dominance. The kind that made the air thicken. Humans wouldn't notice. But my wolf stirred faintly. Luna perked up, sniffing the air. Dangerous. Alpha. I shook it off. Lots of werewolves hid in cities. Rich ones especially. "Coming right up, sir." I poured the drink, sliding it across the bar. Our fingers brushed. Electricity shot through me. His eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring. He inhaled deeply, like he was scenting something. Mine. The word echoed in my mind—not mine. His? No. Impossible. Rejected mates don't get second chances. That's a myth. But his gaze intensified, locking on me like a hunter sighting prey. "What's your name?" His voice was low, velvet over steel. "Isabella," I managed, my voice steadier than I felt. "Isabella." He repeated it like a caress. "Beautiful." Heat flooded my cheeks. "Can I get you anything else?" He leaned forward, those silver eyes gleaming. "Your number." I laughed nervously. "Company policy. No fraternizing with customers." A smirk tugged at his lips—dangerous, sexy. "I own policies. And companies." Arrogant. Typical rich guy. Before I could respond, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, frowning. "Duty calls." He tossed a hundred-dollar bill on the bar—way over the tab—and stood. Towering over me. "This isn't over, Isabella." His voice dropped to a growl. "I'll be back." As he walked away, his scent lingered—pine, storm, pure male dominance. Luna whined inside me. Mate? No. Couldn't be. But as the night wore on, I couldn't shake the feeling that my carefully built walls were about to come crashing down. Little did I know, Damian Voss—the billionaire everyone feared, the secret Wolf King of the largest pack in North America—had just found his fated queen. And he never let go of what was his.