Rejected by My Alpha, Claimed by His Rival

The Claim That Starts a War

Tristan’s POV

My skin was crawling. Every muscle in my body felt like it was being pulled tight by a violin string ready to snap. I’d been holed up in this human town for three days, trying to sweat out a rut that felt more like a death sentence. The suppressant pills were useless. My wolf was a rabid beast inside my skull, screaming for a mate, for blood, for anything to quiet the fire in my veins.

I sat at the far end of the bar, my hood pulled low. The smell of cheap beer and grease usually kept my senses dull, but then the door opened.

A scent hit me. It wasn't just good. It was a biological wrecking ball. Jasmine, rain, and the unmistakable, heartbreaking scent of a female wolf in distress.

I turned my head slowly. She was small, drenched in some kind of sticky liquid, and her eyes were so swollen from crying she could barely see. She looked like she’d been through a war.

Mine, my wolf hissed, the word vibrating in my marrow.

No, I told him, gripping the edge of the bar until the wood groaned. We don’t do this. Not to a civilian.

But she wasn't just a civilian. The way she moved, the way her scent flared with every sob, she was an Omega. A broken one.

I watched her order shots like they were water. She was trying to kill the pain, but I knew better. Alcohol doesn't touch a soul-bond wound. I felt a surge of irrational fury. Who the hell had done this to her? Who had left a female like this out in the open?

I moved before I could stop myself. My body was on autopilot, driven by the rut and a sudden, protective instinct I couldn't explain. I slid onto the stool next to her.

"My name is Tristan," I said. My voice was a jagged growl. I had to clench my jaw just to keep from lunging at her.

She didn't even look up. She just stared into the amber liquid of her glass, her small shoulders shaking. "I don't care. Go away."

"You shouldn't be here alone," I said, my voice dropping an octave. "Not tonight."

"Why? Is there something else that wants to ruin my life today?" She finally looked at me. Her face was a mess of tears and smudged mascara, but she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. My heart hammered against my ribs, a wild, frantic rhythm.

"You're hurting," I muttered.

She let out a dry, hollow laugh that sounded more like a sob. "I was rejected, Tristan. In front of everyone. My own mate threw me out like I was nothing but a dirty rag. So yeah, I’m hurting."

The word rejected sent a shockwave through me. My wolf went absolutely feral. A rejected female was vulnerable, her bond-site raw and open. To an Alpha in rut, she was a siren song.

"He's a fool," I said, leaning closer. The heat radiating off my body was enough to make her blink. "A blind, pathetic fool."

"Everyone says I'm a traitor's daughter," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Maybe he was right. Maybe I'm just cursed."

She put her head in her hands and started to sob again. It wasn't a quiet cry. It was the sound of someone who had reached the very end of their rope.

The sound snapped something inside me. The last thread of my control evaporated. The rut took over, a dark, heavy curtain falling over my mind. All I could see was her neck. All I could smell was the invitation in her blood.

"Don't cry," I growled, my hand moving to the back of her neck. My skin felt like it was on fire where I touched her.

She looked up at me, her eyes wide with fear and something else. "Tristan? You’re... your eyes."

"I know," I whispered. I could feel my canines lengthening, the pressure in my gums unbearable.

I didn't think about the consequences. I didn't think about who she was or what this would mean for the packs. I just knew that if I didn't claim her, I was going to burn alive.

I pulled her toward me, my strength far beyond what she could fight. She gasped, her hands coming up to my chest, but she didn't push. She was so weak, so desperate for any kind of warmth.

"Tristan, wait," she breathed.

"I can't," I groaned against her skin.

I tilted her head to the side, exposing the pale, perfect curve of her shoulder. The scent of her distress was being replaced by the scent of her arousal, a chemical reaction to my proximity.

I didn't give her a choice. I didn't give myself one.

I buried my teeth into the junction of her neck and shoulder.

Tricia screamed, a high, sharp sound that was drowned out by the thunder in my ears. The taste of her blood was like wine, filling my senses, cooling the fire in my blood instantly. I felt the mark take hold, the silver-blue light of an Alpha’s claim sparking between our skin.

I pulled back, my mouth stained with her blood, my wolf finally, finally silent.

Tricia slumped against me, her eyes glazed over, her hand reaching up to touch the jagged, bleeding mark I’d just left on her.

"What did you do?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

I had started a war. I knew it. My wolf knew it. Every instinct in my body was screaming in triumph while my rational mind was already calculating the body count.

I pulled back, my teeth aching from the pressure. Tricia’s skin was hot under my lips, the mark glowing a fierce, angry red before it began to settle into the permanent ink of an Alpha’s brand. She didn't fight me. She didn't even scream after that first initial gasp. Instead, her body went limp, her head falling back against my arm as her eyes drifted shut.

The rejection, the exhaustion, and now the intensity of a second bond forming in less than twenty-four hours had been too much for her system. She was out cold.

I didn't hesitate. I tucked one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, lifting her against my chest. She was far too light. For an Alpha’s daughter, she was skin and bones, a walking testament to how much Xander Blackwood had failed her.

I walked out of that bar without looking back.