Sold To The Demon Alpha

Rejected, Assaulted and The Silver-eyed Demon

She moved like she owned the world, her golden hair shining in the lantern light, her new silk dress flowing around her like water. She was everything I wasn't—beautiful, beloved, worthy.

Steve saw her too. His whole demeanor changed, softening into something I'd never seen him direct at me. He walked to her, and when he reached her, he dropped to one knee.

The crowd went wild. Cheers and applause thundered around us as Steve took Clara's hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. She smiled down at him like a queen bestowing favor on a subject.

He rose and led her to the stage at the center of the celebration. And there, in front of everyone, facing me, he pulled her into his arms. And kissed her.

It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was claiming, possessive, eyes glued to mine over Clara's shoulder, burning with message I understood perfectly.

This is who I choose. Not you. Never you.

Steve's eyes never left mine as his brown irises flickered to molten gold. I watched, frozen, as his canines extended into sharp white fangs and Clara tilted her head back, exposing the smooth column of her throat like an offering.

He bit her swiftly, his fangs sank deep into the soft flesh where her neck met her shoulder, and Clara's gasp of pleasure-pain echoed across the silent clearing.

The pain hit me like a physical blow. Fire raced through my veins, burning along every nerve ending. The mate bond that connected us stretched and twisted, sending waves of torment through my chest. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Could only feel the terrible wrongness of watching my mate claim another.

My knees buckled, but I forced myself to stay upright. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me collapse.

Steve pulled back from Clara's throat, blood glistening on his lips. Her mark was already healing, sealing into the crescent-shaped scar that would brand her as his for life. The crowd erupted in cheers, but I heard none of it. There was only the roar of blood in my ears and the taste of bile in my throat.

His golden eyes found mine across the distance, and he smiled. Not the warm smile he gave Clara, but something cold and cruel. Something meant to cut me. He knew our bond was from the goddess, but pretended it was fake.

His lips moved, whispering yet knowing I'll understand his words even from the distance: "I, Steve Martinez, future Alpha of Blood Warrior pack, reject you, Delilah Davis, as my mate."

I'd known it was coming, had seen the rejection in his eyes the moment he'd looked at me with disgust, but knowing didn't make it hurt less. If anything, it made it worse. The careful pronunciation of my full name told me he'd known exactly who I was all along. Had probably known for years while pretending I didn't exist.

A single tear rolled down my cheek before I could stop it. His eyes followed its path with satisfaction, drinking in my pain like wine. The golden glow in his irises brightened, and I realized he was enjoying this. Enjoying watching me break in front of everyone.

I wouldn't give him any more.

I turned and ran.

My injured knees screamed in protest, but I pushed through the pain. Behind me, the celebration continued as if nothing had happened. Music resumed. Laughter rang out. Life went on while mine crumbled to pieces.

I didn't know where I was going. My feet carried me away from the lights and voices, away from the smell of roasted meat and the sound of happiness I'd never be part of. Branches caught at my mother's dress, tearing the delicate fabric, but I didn't care anymore. Nothing mattered now.

The sobs came in great, ugly heaves that shook my whole body. I stumbled through the darkness, guided only by moonlight filtering through the canopy above.

"Why me?" I choked out between gasps. "Why is everything so hard?"

The words echoed in the empty forest, mocking me with their futility. There was no answer. There never was.

Sometimes I wished they hadn't saved me that night thirteen years ago. Sometimes I wished I'd burned in that fire with my parents, instead of living to become this broken thing that everyone despised. Maybe that would have been kinder. Maybe that would have been what I deserved.

The guilt was always there, a constant weight in my chest. I'd killed them. My own parents. The fire had started in my room, spread from the candles I'd knocked over during a nightmare. They'd died trying to save me, and for what? So I could grow up to be the pack's shame? So I could be rejected by my own mate in front of everyone?

Maybe this was my punishment. Maybe I'd never deserved happiness after what I'd done.

I was so lost in self-pity that I didn't see the men until I'd stumbled right into their circle.

"Well, well, well." The voice was slurred with drink. "What do we have here?"

Three of them. Pack guards in their patrol uniforms, but their shirts were unbuttoned and their eyes were glazed with alcohol. They should have been patrolling the borders, keeping us safe. Instead they were here, drunk and leering at me like I was something they could devour.

"Sorry," I mumbled, backing away. "I didn't mean to..."

A hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, yanking me back into their circle.

"Don't be in such a hurry, sweetheart." The one holding me was older, with gray threading through his dark hair and scars across his knuckles. "Look at you, all dolled up in your pretty dress. Were you hoping to find yourself a mate tonight?"

I tried to pull away, but his grip was iron. The other two moved closer, cutting off any escape route.

"Let me go," I said, trying to sound braver than I felt. "I need to get back to the pack house."

"Oh, but the night's still young." Another one stepped closer, his breath reeking of whiskey. "It's a real shame nobody appreciated your efforts tonight. All dressed up and nowhere to go."

The third man laughed, a sound that made my skin crawl. "Why don't we have some fun? Show you what a real man feels like."

Terror flooded my system, sharp and cold. I looked around desperately for an escape, but they had me surrounded. Three grown men, each twice my size and weight. I couldn't overpower them. Couldn't outrun them on my injured knees.

Hands shoved me to the ground, and I hit the earth hard. The breath left my lungs in a rush, and I gasped like a landed fish. Above me, they were already reaching for their belts, their faces twisted with sick anticipation.

"Please," I whispered. "Please don't do this."

But they weren't listening. One of them was already unfastening his pants, his eyes hot with lust. Another knelt beside me, his hands reaching for the torn hem of my dress.

I closed my eyes and prayed. To the Moon Goddess, to any deity that might be listening, to demons if they'd help me. Anyone. Anything.

"Please," I cried out loud this time. "Someone help me."

The hands clawing at my legs vanished suddenly. The weight pinning me down disappeared. Instead of cruel laughter, I heard screaming.

Not my screaming. Theirs.

The sound of breaking bones filled the air. Wet, crunching snaps followed by howls of agony. Something was happening to the guards, something terrible, but I was too afraid to look.

I curled into a ball, making myself as small as possible. Whatever was killing them might come for me next. I should run, should try to escape while it was distracted, but my body wouldn't obey. Terror had frozen me solid.

"Don't hurt me," I whispered, the words coming out like a prayer. "Please don't hurt me."

The screaming stopped. The bone-breaking stopped. Sudden, complete silence fell over the forest like a blanket.

I strained to listen, but heard nothing. No breathing. No footsteps. No sound at all except my own ragged gasps.

Slowly, carefully, I tried to catch a scent. If it was a rogue wolf, I should smell something. Pack wolves had distinct scents, and rogues carried the sharp tang of madness. But there was nothing. Just grass and earth and the metallic reek of spilled blood.

Maybe whatever had killed the guards was gone. Maybe it had moved on to other prey.

I lowered my hands from my face and slowly opened my eyes.

Silver orbs stared back at me from inches away, glowing like twin moons in the darkness.

The scream that tore from my throat could have woken the dead. Pure, primal terror flooded every cell in my body. If I'd had anything in my bladder, I would have wet myself. As it was, I hadn't eaten or drunk anything since morning, so there was nothing left to lose.

A large hand clamped over my mouth, cutting off my scream mid-note.

"Silence," the thing commanded.

The voice was deep, rougher than gravel, distinctly male. Those silver eyes glared down at me with what might have been annoyance.

"A thank you would have been nicer, considering I just saved you."

I blinked up at him, my mind struggling to process what he'd said. He'd saved me? This thing with glowing eyes and impossible silence had killed three grown men to protect me?

The realization must have shown on my face, because something like amusement flickered in those strange eyes.

"Moon Goddess?" I blurted out without thinking.

He snorted, a sound that was almost human. Almost. He rose to his full height then, and I had to crane my neck to look up at him. He was massive, easily seven feet tall, with shoulders broad enough to block out the moon.

"God would be more appropriate, considering my gender," he said, his voice carrying hints of dark humor. "But no. Demon would be more accurate."