Fated To The Wrong Alpha

Just this once

TESSA

It’s been five days since I found out Ezra is my mate.

It takes seven days for a female to go into heat after she’s found her mate, and I have two more days left before biology takes over and my body stops being mine.

Two more days, and I haven’t seen Ezra since the night he pressed me against the wall and told me he wants nothing to do with me.

He has to be avoiding me, because even though the palace is huge, it takes a lot of effort to stay out of someone’s way for five whole days.

You don’t just accidentally miss crossing paths with someone that many times unless you’re deliberately making sure it doesn’t happen, and the knowledge that he’s going out of his way to avoid me hurts more than I want to admit.

Kaz fills the space Ezra leaves empty. He takes me on walks through the territory, shows me the training grounds where his wolves spar in the early morning fog, the borders where sentries patrol at night, places that matter to the pack in ways I’m still learning to understand. He’s patient in a way I didn’t expect, asks questions about my old life and actually listens when I answer like he genuinely wants to know me, like I’m more than just the girl he’s just supposed to marry and get it over with. It’s disarming.

“You’re quiet today,” he observes as we walk back from the eastern border, sunlight filtering through the trees overhead in patterns that should be beautiful but just feel heavy.

I’m thinking about your best friend. About the bond I can’t tell you about. About the heat that’s coming in two days and the man who doesn’t want me.

“Just processing everything,” I say instead, which isn’t entirely a lie even if it’s not the whole truth either.

He doesn’t push, doesn’t demand more than I’m willing to give. Just nods like he understands and changes the subject to something easier, something that doesn’t require me to explain the chaos happening inside my head. There’s a steadiness to Kaz I didn’t expect, a quiet strength that makes you feel safe even when your world is burning down around you, and it would be so much easier if I could hate him for what his pack did to mine, for trapping me here in this beautiful prison. I can’t.

The days blur together like this—walks with Kaz where he shows me his world piece by piece, meals where I push food around my plate and pretend everything’s fine, nights spent staring at my ceiling wondering where Ezra is and hating myself for caring.

By the fourth day, there’s a restlessness building under my skin that has nothing to do with grief and everything to do with biology asserting itself whether I want it to or not. My temperature runs warmer than it should, and my skin feels hypersensitive like every brush of fabric is too much, too rough, too everything.

On day six, I wake up burning.

Not the gentle warmth from yesterday—this is fire in my veins, liquid heat pooling low in my belly that makes it hard to breathe and harder to think.

My skin feels too tight, stretched over bones that ache in ways I can’t explain, and I know with sinking certainty that tomorrow will be so much worse than this.

I need air before these walls close in completely and I lose what little control I have left.

The maid assigned to me—a quiet woman named Iris who’s been nothing but kind—walks beside me through the palace grounds, pointing out places of interest like fountains and courtyards and statues of wolves long dead. I’m only half-listening, nodding when it seems appropriate, until we round a corner and I see it.

The garden.

Hidden behind stone walls covered in climbing vines, wild roses bloom in shades of crimson and white so vibrant they look almost unreal, climbing over arches and spilling onto the pathway like they can’t be contained. Flowers I don’t recognize bloom in riots of color between carefully tended herb beds, and the whole thing feels secret somehow, like a place carved out just for beauty in the middle of all this political maneuvering and pack hierarchy.

“I’ll stay here for a bit,” I tell Iris, my voice coming out breathier than I intended. “You can go.”

She hesitates, clearly torn between following orders and leaving me unattended. “Are you sure miss?”

“I’m sure.” I try to smile, try to look like I’m fine even though heat is crawling under my skin. “I just need a moment alone.”

She bows slightly and leaves, and I’m finally alone with the roses and the quiet.

I move closer, running my fingers over velvet petals that feel cool against my overheated skin, breathing in their fragrance and letting it center me. For the first time in days, something in my chest loosens just slightly, like maybe I can survive this after all.

Then I catch his scent.

Cedar and smoke, so familiar now it makes my chest ache.

I turn slowly, and there he is.

Ezra stands in the entrance of the garden like he’s been frozen mid-step, clearly not expecting to find me here.

His jaw tightens the moment our eyes

meet, and for a second I think he’s going to turn around and leave without saying a word, without acknowledging my existence at all.

“I have something to tell you,” I say quickly, before he can disappear and I lose my nerve. “Please.”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me with those cold, unreadable eyes that give nothing away. The silence stretches between us like a living thing.

I take it as permission. “The heat. It’s coming tomorrow.”

More silence, heavy and suffocating in a way that makes my throat tight.

“That’s not my problem.” His voice is flat, emotionless in a way that cuts deeper than anger would have.

The words sting, but I push through because I’ve already started this and there’s no point in stopping now. “I know that. I’m just telling you because—”

“Kaz is a strong Alpha,” he cuts in, each word deliberate and carefully chosen like he’s thought about this, like he’s prepared for this exact conversation. “His genes should be able to satiate you just fine.”

The casual cruelty of it, the way he can stand there and talk about another man touching me like it means nothing to him, steals the breath from my lungs. The bond thrums painfully in my chest, screaming at the wrongness of it all, at him standing here rejecting what we’re supposed to be.

Before I can find words—any words—he turns and walks out, leaving me alone with the roses and the hollow ache in my chest that no amount of heat can burn away.

***

Day seven dawns and I know immediately it’s going to be hell.

The heat slams into me before I’m even fully awake, so intense and all-consuming I cry out into the empty room. My skin is on fire, every nerve ending screaming like I’m being torn apart from the inside, and there’s no relief anywhere. I lock myself in my room and try to endure it, try to breathe through the waves of pain and desperate need that crash over me relentlessly.

Hours blur together until I can’t tell if it’s been minutes or days. I lose track of time completely, lose track of everything except the pain and heat and this clawing, desperate need that nothing can satisfy. The sheets are soaked through and twisted around my legs like they’re trying to trap me, and my nightgown clings to burning skin in ways that make everything worse.

My lips are redder than they were yesterday, fuller. My hips wider, curves more pronounced. Even Kaz noticed the changes before he left on his trip yesterday, commented on how different I looked with something in his eyes I couldn’t quite read before he told me he’d be back in three days. Three days. He doesn’t know about the heat, doesn’t know what’s happening to me right now because I was too much of a coward to tell him.

Which means I’m doing this completely alone.

I need him. I need Ezra. The thought claws through my mind on repeat, relentless and unwanted. And he doesn’t want me.

I’m half-conscious, floating in and out of awareness, when I hear it—a knock on the door. Just one, soft and deliberate like whoever’s on the other side knows exactly what they’re doing.

I drag myself off the bed, every movement absolute agony. My whole body shakes violently, and I can barely stand. I have to use the wall to keep myself upright as I stumble to the door, my vision swimming.

When I finally manage to open it, my breath catches in my throat.

Ezra.

He looks absolutely wrecked, like he hasn’t slept in days. His jaw is clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping, hands curled into fists at his sides like he’s physically restraining himself, and his eyes—goddess, his eyes are dark and wild and absolutely tortured in ways that make my chest constrict painfully.

“Ezra—” His name comes out broken, desperate.

“Don’t.” His voice is rough, barely holding together like he’s hanging onto control by the thinnest thread.

“Don’t say anything.”

He steps inside like it’s killing him, like every muscle in his body is screaming at him to turn around and run but he can’t make himself leave.

The door closes behind him with a soft click.

He just stares at me like I’m destroying him, like every second he stands here is tearing him apart piece by piece and he can’t figure out how to stop it.

“I can’t—” He stops abruptly, shakes his head like he’s arguing with himself, runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Fuck.”

Three strides and he’s there, closing the distance between us faster than I can process. His hand cups my face, rough and gentle all at once, tilting my head up so I have no choice but to look at him. And he’s looking at me like I’m something precious and devastating all at once, like I’m everything he wants and can’t have, like this is killing him just as much as it’s killing me.

His thumb brushes across my cheek so gently it makes me want to cry, and I feel that single touch everywhere—racing down my spine, pooling in my belly, making the heat flare even hotter.

“This happens just this once,” he growls, his voice wrecked and rough and barely controlled, like he’s holding onto his sanity by the thinnest thread imaginable. His eyes bore into mine with an intensity that makes my knees weak. “Just once, Tessa. And never again.“​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​