Rejected

Bloodmoon

Chapter Two

Sophia's heart hammered against her ribs as her eyes snapped toward the voice. A man sat in a chair near the fireplace, half-hidden by shadows and the flickering orange light. He was massive, broad shoulders filling the chair, dark hair cropped short, and eyes that caught the firelight like liquid silver.

She scrambled backward on the mattress, ignoring the pain that pierced her ribs, her side, everywhere. Her back hit the headboard and she pressed herself against it, breathing hard. Her wolf, Layla, stirred groggily inside her, still exhausted from the night before, but alert enough to recognize the danger in the room.

Alpha, Layla whispered, trembling. Powerful. Run.

But there was nowhere to run. Sophia's gaze darted to the door, then back to the man. He hadn't moved from his chair. Hadn't lunged at her. Hadn't so much as shifted his posture. He simply watched her with those unsettling silver eyes, unreadable as stone.

"You're safe here," he said. His voice was deep, rough like gravel, and carrying the weight of someone used to being obeyed.

Sophia didn't believe him. She'd heard those words before. You're safe here, Sophia. This pack will protect you. You have nothing to fear. Lies. All lies. She hadn't been safe in her own pack.

"Where am I?" Her voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. She hated how small she sounded.

"Blood Moon territory." He said it simply, as if that explained everything. And maybe it did. Sophia's breath caught. Blood Moon. The most feared pack in the region. Stories about them had reached her small, insignificant self. Stories of ruthless warriors, of an Alpha who crushed enemies without mercy, of wolves so disciplined and terrifying that other packs paid tribute just to keep them away.

She was in the den of monsters.

Her hand flew to her stomach, pressing protectively. The movement wasn't lost on the Alpha. His jaw tightened, a muscle jumping in his cheek, but he still didn't move.

"You were injured," he said. "Bruised ribs. Cuts. Exhaustion. My healer treated you while you slept."

Sophia looked down at herself. She wore a clean, oversized shirt that definitely wasn't hers. Soft cotton that smelled faintly of pine and something darker, masculine. Her arms were bandaged where the rogue's claws had torn her skin. The pain in her side had dulled to a persistent ache.

"Why?" The word slipped out before she could stop it. "Why would you help me?"

The Alpha's expression didn't change, but something flickered in those silver eyes. Something dark. "Because you needed it."

"That doesn't answer my question."

A pause. Then, almost imperceptibly, the corner of his mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. "No," he agreed. "It doesn't."

The door opened without warning and Sophia flinched so hard her head cracked against the headboard. A man strode in carrying a tray, oblivious to her terror, grinning like he was walking into a party instead of a room with a terrified stranger.

"Food's here, and before you growl at me, yes, I knocked, you just didn't..." He stopped, noticing Sophia pressed against the headboard, wild-eyed and trembling. "Oh. Hello. You’re awake."

"Leave, Damon."

"Rude. I'm bringing sustenance." The man, Damon, apparently set the tray on a table near the bed. He was handsome in a sharp, playful way, dark hair tousled, with warm brown eyes that crinkled at the corners. The complete opposite of the stone-faced Alpha. "I'm Damon, by the way. Beta of this charming establishment. The brooding statue in the corner is Zayden. Our beloved Alpha. Try not to let his personality scare you. It's just resting murder face, he's not actually plotting your demise. Probably."

"Damon."

"See? He speaks. A miracle."

Sophia stared between them, utterly lost. This wasn't how pack interactions worked. The Beta was joking with the Alpha? The Alpha was tolerating it? In her old pack, the Alpha had been a cruel, petty man who demanded groveling and silence.

Damon pushed the tray closer to her. "Soup. Bread. Eat. You're basically a skeleton with skin right now and it's depressing."

"I..." Sophia's stomach growled loudly, betraying her. She hadn't eaten in two days. Maybe three. Time had blurred in the forest. She eyed the food warily, then the two men, then the food again.

Zayden stood. The movement was fluid, predatory, and Sophia shrank back despite herself. But he only walked to the door, pausing with his hand on the frame.

"Eat," he said, not turning around. "Then rest. We'll talk when you're stronger."

He left, and the room felt suddenly larger, easier to breathe in. Damon watched her with knowing eyes, but his smile remained gentle.

"He's not what you think," Damon said quietly.

"I don't know what I think."

"Yes, you do." Damon headed for the door. "You think he's like the ones who hurt you. Who threw you out. He's not. None of us are." He paused at the threshold, glancing back. "But I'll let you discover that yourself. The bathroom's through that door. Clean clothes in the dresser. And Sophia?"

She startled at her name. "How do you know my name?"

"You talked in your sleep." Something sad crossed his face, there and gone. "A lot, actually. Get some real rest. No one's coming for you here."

The door clicked shut.

Sophia sat in silence for a long moment, the crackling fire the only sound. Then, slowly, she reached for the soup. It was warm. Chicken and vegetables, simple but rich. She ate mechanically at first, then desperately, tearing into the bread like she might never see food again. When she'd finished, she curled back under the blankets, her hand never leaving her stomach.

What if they're lying? she asked Layla.

I don't know, her wolf admitted. But I don't smell deceit. I smell... concern. And something else. Something I don't understand.

Sophia closed her eyes, exhaustion pulling her under despite her fear. Her last conscious thought was of silver eyes in the firelight, watching her with an intensity that felt almost like protection.

She woke to shouting.