My Rejected Mate

Chapter 3

SERENA'S POV

Damon!

Maybe he was right. Maybe it was meant to be. I watched him disappear into the crowd, surrounded by people I didn't recognize. I still had no idea which pack he belonged to.

I almost followed him. Almost.

“Serena!”

I turned at the sound of my name. One of the Sterling pack officials was standing several feet away, motioning for me to come over. “Your round is coming up.” I glanced back toward the crowd. Damon was already gone.

“Right.”

I followed the official toward the preparation area. I told myself there was still plenty of time. The competition was going to last all day. There would be enough opportunities to find him later.

By the time afternoon arrived, the grounds had changed completely. The noise was louder now. The earlier rounds were over, and the crowd had gathered around the main arena for the finals. There was a different energy in the air. Less excitement. More tension.

I'd watched enough of the earlier rounds to know why. These weren't friendly matches. People had gone home with broken noses, dislocated shoulders and deep cuts that needed immediate attention. A few fighters had been carried out of the arena entirely.

No one seemed particularly surprised. That was the part I hated most. The crowd cheered when someone landed a hard hit. They cheered louder when someone stayed on their feet after one. I sat with the Sterling supporters, my sword resting against my leg as I watched the competitors take their places.

One final ended. Then another. The crowd erupted every time a winner was announced. I barely paid attention. I was still thinking about Damon. Then the announcer stepped forward. “Next, we have the final round of Brutal Combat.” The crowd immediately came alive.

I straightened.

Brutal Combat was one of the few events where shifting wasn't allowed. The fighters stayed in human form, which didn't make the matches any safer. Every shifter in that arena was still stronger, faster and harder to put down than a normal human.

The announcer called the first fighter. A Sterling fighter walked into the arena. The crowd behind me erupted. I recognized him immediately. He was one of our strongest competitors. Then the announcer called his opponent. “Representing the Cross Pack... Damon Cross.”

My entire body went still. For a second, I thought I'd heard wrong. Damon. Cross. I stared at the arena. He walked out from the opposite side. Same dark hair, same broad shoulders, same face I'd woken up beside three weeks ago. Only now he was wearing the colors of the pack my family had spent years hating.

My stomach dropped. No. Of course not. Of course the one man with whom I had the best night of my life had to be Damon Cross. Victor Cross's son. The heir to the Cross Pack. I barely noticed my father's reaction until his voice reached me from behind.

“Good. I chose the right fighter for this.” His voice was loud. “He'll finish Victor's son.” The people around him cheered. I couldn't. I couldn't take my eyes off Damon. He didn't look toward us. He didn't know I was here. He didn't know the woman he spent the night with was Serena Sterling.

The fight began. Damon moved first. He was fast, much faster than I expected. The Sterling fighter met him halfway. Their bodies collided hard enough that I heard the impact from where I was sitting. The crowd roared.

Damon took the first hit. His head snapped sideways, blood appeared at the corner of his mouth. He wiped it away. Then smiled. Something about that smile reminded me of Ashville.

The Sterling fighter charged again. Damon ducked beneath the swing and drove his shoulder into the man's stomach. They crashed to the ground. The crowd screamed. The Sterling fighter managed to get back up, but Damon was already there.

A fist connected with his jaw. He staggered. Damon followed. Another hit. Then another. The Sterling section fell silent. The fighter suddenly dropped to one knee. An official stepped forward, watching closely. For a second, I thought he was going to stop the match.

The Sterling fighter forced himself upright. The crowd exploded. Damon's expression hardened. They collided again. This time, the Sterling fighter caught Damon across the ribs. Damon stumbled. He pressed a hand against his side.

Even from where I sat, I could tell something was wrong. He should have stopped. Instead, he straightened. Then he attacked. Seconds later, his opponent was on the ground.

The official stepped between them.

“Enough!” The crowd erupted. Damon stood there breathing heavily, blood running from his mouth and one hand pressed against his ribs.

He'd won. The Cross Pack went wild. I barely heard them. Damon stood in the middle of the arena, breathing heavily. Then he looked toward his pack. For one strange second, I thought his eyes might find mine. They didn't. Someone from the Cross Pack rushed toward him.

I looked away. I needed to prepare for my own final. My hands tightened around the sword resting against my leg. I had no time to think about Damon Cross. Not now.

“Serena.” My father was standing in front of me. I looked up.

“You're next.”

I nodded. His eyes moved to the sword. “This is our last event.” I knew what he meant. Sterling had performed well throughout the competition, but the final result would come down to this.

“Don't lose focus.”

“I won't.”

His gaze stayed on me. For a moment, I thought he might say something else. Instead, he walked away. The announcer called the finalists into the arena. Then I heard the name of my opponent.

“Mara Cross.”

Of course. Apparently the universe had decided I hadn't suffered enough for one day. Mara entered the arena from the opposite side. She carried herself with the confidence of someone who knew exactly how good she was.

I'd seen her fight earlier. She was fast, precise, and very difficult to read. The sword in her hand wasn't decorative. Neither was mine. These weren't practice blades. The edges had been dulled enough to prevent an easy kill, but a hard strike could still split skin. I'd seen one fighter leave the arena earlier with blood running down his forearm. Another had needed stitches after taking a blade too close to the eyebrow.

Mara rolled her shoulders. I tightened my grip around my sword. The crowd grew quiet.

The announcer raised his hand.

“Begin.”

Mara attacked first. I blocked. The force of the impact travelled through my arm. She attacked again. I stepped aside and swung. She blocked. The clash of steel rang through the arena. We moved across the ground, each strike forcing the other to give up space.

She was stronger than me. I knew that so I didn't try to overpower her. I watched her feet, her shoulders, the way she held the sword. Every movement told me something. She lunged. I dodged. Her blade grazed my shoulder. Pain shot through me. Warm blood ran beneath my sleeve.

The crowd reacted. I heard my father's voice somewhere beyond the arena. “Come on, Serena!” I ignored him. Mara came at me again. I blocked. She pushed me backward.

One step.

Two.

Three.

My heel caught the edge of the fighting ground and I stumbled. She smiled. She thought she had me.

Good. Let her think that. She attacked again and I barely managed to block. The impact nearly knocked the sword from my hand. My feet slipped beneath me. I hit the ground hard. The crowd gasped.

Mara raised her sword. For a second, I saw the blade coming down. Then I noticed it, the way she shifted her weight. The same way she had done every time she committed to a finishing strike.

I rolled.

Her blade struck the ground beside me. Before she could recover, I twisted up, caught her wrist and pulled. She lost her balance. I struck her sword from her hand. It hit the ground.

Silence. Mara froze.

I rose slowly, breathing hard. Blood was running down my shoulder. My sword was still in my hand. The announcer stared for a second before raising his hand.

“Winner... Serena Sterling!”

The Sterling section exploded. I lowered my sword. I had done it. We had won. I looked toward my family. My father was standing. Everyone around him was celebrating. For once, he was looking at me differently.

Then my eyes moved past him. Toward the Cross section. And I saw Damon. He was already watching me. Our eyes met. And this time, neither of us looked away.

DAMON’S POV

My ribs hurt. My left arm hurt even more. I probably needed stitches somewhere but I didn't care. I sat near the edge of the Cross section, watching the Sterling fighters celebrate. Mara was still in the arena. She had lost. I couldn't believe it. I'd watched her fight enough times to know how good she was. She never loses. Until now

I stood slowly. Someone grabbed my arm. “You should get that looked at.”

“I'll be fine.”

“You're bleeding.”

“I said I'm fine.”

I pulled my arm away. My eyes were still on the arena. Serena was talking to someone from her pack. She laughed then she looked toward her family. Something about the way she looked up there made me pause. She wasn't smiling anymore. I didn't understand it.

Then she looked back toward the arena, toward me and our eyes met. Something inside me shifted. My wolf stirred. I froze. It wasn't the usual reaction to an attractive woman. It was deeper. Instinctive. Immediate. Protective. I didn't fully understand it and neither did my wolf.

All I knew was that every part of me suddenly wanted to get closer to her. I watched her turn away. The feeling didn't disappear, it only got worse. I looked toward the arena as Mara was being helped to her feet. She had a cut along her cheek. I should have been angry at Serena. Instead, something irrational tightened in my chest when I saw the blood on Serena's shoulder.

My wolf reacted again. Protect her. The thought wasn't mine. At least, it didn't feel like mine. I stared at Serena. She was already walking away from the celebration.

Why?

Everyone else was celebrating. Her pack had just won. She should have been happy. Instead, she disappeared into the crowd. I didn't think, I just followed her. I pushed through the people gathered around the arena, ignoring the pain in my ribs. I found her a short distance away, standing where the noise from the crowd had faded.

She turned as soon as she heard my footsteps. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then she looked at my bruised face. “You're hurt.”

I almost laughed. “So are you.” She glanced at her shoulder. “It's nothing.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“So are you.”

I smiled despite myself.

There she was. The woman from Ashville. The woman who had made me forget everything for one night. Except now I knew exactly who she was. And she knew exactly who I was.

“You're a Sterling.”

“And you're Damon Cross.” Hearing my name from her lips felt strangely different. I should have been thinking about the fact that she was a Sterling. I should have been thinking about my father, about everything we'd been taught about them. Instead, all I could think about was the strange feeling in my chest, the instinct that had started

the moment I saw her.

My wolf was still awake and it wanted one thing.

Her.