Fated To The Wrong Alpha

Stay away from me

TESSA

I’m still reeling from the realization when the sharp scrape of Kaz’s chair against the floor slices through my thoughts, the sound cutting cleanly through the fog in my head.

“Ezra.”

Kaz crosses the room in three long strides, clapping the other man on the shoulder with an ease that speaks of years—decades—of shared history. The kind of bond built in blood and loyalty. The kind I will never be part of.

“Didn’t expect you back until tomorrow.”

“Finished early.”

Ezra’s voice is rough. Low. Worn down at the edges like gravel smoothed by smoke and fire, and it does something humiliating to my body despite every rational thought screaming at me to get control of myself.

He doesn’t look at Kaz.

Doesn’t acknowledge the greeting beyond those two clipped words.

Because his eyes are on me.

Locked there with an intensity that steals the air from my lungs and makes the world tilt sideways. The pull is immediate and brutal—something ancient and essential inside me reaching for him, clawing, demanding I close the distance between us.

I dig my nails into my palms until pain bites sharp enough to anchor me.

Stay still.

Don’t move.

Don’t give anything away.

“This is Tessa Thorne,” Kaz says, gesturing toward me, pride unmistakable in his tone. “My bride-to-be.”

The words land like a slap.

I watch Ezra carefully, waiting for anything—anger, surprise, recognition. Something that mirrors the chaos tearing through me.

There’s nothing.

Not a flicker. Not a breath out of place.

“Nice to meet you.”

He inclines his head just barely, the gesture so minimal it borders on indifference.

My stomach drops.

The bond is supposed to be mutual. Instantaneous. Impossible to ignore. Yet he’s looking at me like I’m a stranger, like I’m nothing more than a name he’ll forget the moment he leaves the room.

“You look exhausted,” Kaz says, studying him. “Trip rough?”

“Long.”

Ezra’s gaze finally breaks from mine, and the moment it does, air rushes back into my lungs in a sharp, painful gasp I barely manage to hide.

“I should clean up,” he adds, already turning away, as though this entire interaction hasn’t just rearranged my insides.

“Stay for dinner,” Kaz offers. “We just started.”

“I’ll pass.”

No hesitation. No apology. No backward glance.

“Welcome to Moonscar, Miss Thorne.”

The door clicks shut behind him, the sound echoing through my bones.

I stare at the empty space he left behind, my heart pounding so violently I’m stunned Kaz doesn’t notice.

“Don’t take it personally,” Kaz says easily, settling back into his chair, wine glass in hand. “Ezra’s never been good with new people. And that trip would’ve exhausted anyone.”

I nod because I don’t trust my voice to work.

My skin still feels too tight, too hot, like I’m burning from the inside out, and the only thing that could possibly cool it just walked away without looking back. I reach for my wine and drain half the glass in one go.

Get it together, Tessa.

***

Dinner stretches on like a punishment.

Kaz talks—about pack politics, about territory, about wedding arrangements—and I listen just enough to nod at the right moments, to smile when expected. None of it sticks. My mind is stuck on Ezra, on the way he looked at me like he knew exactly what I was feeling and chose—deliberately—to give me nothing.

Maybe the bond is broken. Maybe it snapped wrong. Maybe I imagined it because my world collapsed in a single night and I’m grasping for something that makes sense.

“You haven’t touched your food.”

I blink, pulling myself back into the room. Kaz is watching me, concern darkening his expression. My plate is still nearly full.

“Sorry,” I say, forcing a bite down that tastes like ash. “It’s been a long day.”

He studies me for a moment longer before nodding. “I’ll have someone show you to your room. You need rest.”

Relief crashes through me. “Thank you.”

***

In my room, the moment the door closes, my legs give out.

I sink onto the edge of the bed, hands shaking uncontrollably. My chest feels tight, like something heavy is pressing down on it.

My father is dead.

I’m trapped in enemy territory.

Engaged to a man I’ll never love.

And the mate bond—the one sacred, unbreakable thing—has snapped into place with someone else entirely. Someone who looked at me like I didn’t exist.

A knock sounds at the door.

Kaz. It has to be Kaz, probably coming to check on me or discuss wedding arrangements or some other detail about this nightmare I’m now living.

I stand on unsteady legs, smoothing the silk nightgown with trembling hands, trying to compose myself into something resembling the dutiful bride-to-be he expects. “Come in.”

The door opens, and my breath catches in my throat.

It’s not Kaz, but Ezra.

He steps inside before I can even process that he’s there, closing the door behind him with terrifying quietness, each movement controlled and deliberate. The lock clicks into place, the sound loud enough to echo in the silence.

Oh, goddess.

“What are you—”

“We need to talk.”

His voice is different now. Darker. Stripped of restraint. Like something dangerous is being held back by sheer force of will.

He moves toward me, and instinct takes over. I step back. He keeps coming until my spine hits the wall and there’s nowhere left to retreat.

He doesn’t stop.

His heat slams into me, overwhelming, and his scent—cedar, smoke, something wild—hits so hard my wolf surges awake, frantic and desperate.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t think.

He raises one arm, black ink spiraling up his forearm in intricate patterns that disappear under his sleeve, and braces his palm against the wall beside my head.

Caging me in.

I should push him away, should demand he leave, but I don’t move, can’t move, just stand there frozen as he leans in closer, his body becoming a wall of solid muscle barely an inch from mine.

His mouth stops beside my ear, his breath ghosting hot across my neck.

And then he speaks, his voice low and dangerous, a growl that vibrates through my bones.

“I don’t want this bond.”

The words are a blade between my ribs.

“I don’t want you,” he continues, each one deliberate and cruel, “and you’re going to keep your mouth shut about it. You don’t tell Kaz. You don’t tell anyone.”

His jaw brushes my cheek, rough stubble scraping skin that feels far too sensitive.

“Do we have an understanding?”

His voice drops, deadly quiet.

My brain shorts out. I can’t form words. His other hand comes up, bracing against the wall on my other side, boxing me in completely.

“Answer me, Tessa.”

My name in that voice shatters something inside me.

“Yes,” I whisper. “I understand.”

He stays there for one unbearable heartbeat, close enough that I can see the pulse in his throat, close enough that if I turned my head—

Then he pulls away.

The loss of his heat feels like grief.

He looks at me then—really looks—and I see it. The control. The restraint. The fists clenched at his sides like he’s fighting himself as much as me.

He feels it too.

And he’s choosing to reject it.

“To stay out of each other’s way,” he says coldly, “would be best.”

Then he turns and leaves.

The door closes softly behind him, the sound final, devastating.

I slide down the wall, shaking, his words burned into my skin like a brand, knowing with terrifying certainty that this—this—is only the beginning of something that’s going to ruin us both.