Rejected by my Mate, Claimed by the Alpha King

CH 5

Princess, I won’t reject you. You're perfect to me. I don't care about your past or what you had; I care about who you are now and who you can become. I'm just getting to know you, and I’m already sure I'm falling in love. Even if you weren't my mate and the bond didn't exist, we’d still find each other, and I’d still fall for you," he reassured me. "You're saying that because of the mate bond," I commented. "No, I'm not. Well, maybe I am." He approached my cell, unlocked it, and I followed him out. We went upstairs into the darkness and walked for a few minutes before reaching the largest pack house I’ve ever seen, more like a mansion than a castle. "He must be really wealthy," I thought. Inside, he led me upstairs, turned left, and I took in the interior. He stopped at a door engraved with AD, gave me a look, and opened it. The room looked like a hotel suite, with walls painted in dark gray and black. To the left was a large king-sized bed with gray sheets and dark blue blankets. The tinted glass windows offered a surreal view. I couldn’t believe this was where someone sleeps. He entered, saw me still staring in awe, and said, "Come on. Don't be shy." Finally snapping out of it, I stepped inside and noticed more than I expected. To my right were two doors, one likely led to the bathroom, the other to a closet. Inside the first was an incredible jacuzzi, along with a cabinet, sink, shower, and full-length mirror. I then moved to the other door, revealing a closet full of shirts, tuxedos, jeans, and more. I asked, "Y-You own all these?" in shock. "Yes, I do. And now so do you," he replied, smirking. "Why me?" I asked. "Because you're my mate." "I'm not. I told you my mate rejected me two days ago." He gently held my hands, looked into my eyes, and softly said, "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't feel the sparks and the pull, and I'll let you go." His eyes captivated me, and his touch sent pleasurable sparks down my spine, making me wonder what else those hands could do. "Okay," I conceded, "I feel that too, and it feels promising." "To me, they’re more than good. They’re comforting. It makes me think of all I will do to your body once we mate," he said confidently, causing me to blush deeply. "Why aren’t you shy or embarrassed about what you’re saying?" I asked, feeling shy. "Because you're my mate. I am yours, and you are mine. I will never be shy of you, and I don't want you to be shy or afraid. Eventually, we will mate, and I will have you," he replied. I blushed again at his words about eventually mating. "Why do you keep blushing at the word 'mate'?" he asked. "Nothing," I answered, trying to stay composed but turning redder. "If you say so. It's been a long day; if you want to freshen up, the bathroom’s there." He pointed to it, allowing me to do as I wished. Inside, I looked around again, then approached the mirror. I removed my clothes and stepped into the shower, turning on warm water and applying soap. The lather turned into droplets on my skin. I closed my eyes, feeling overwhelmed by how rapidly my life had changed: meeting my mate, discovering he was my bully, getting rejected, running away, shifting into my wolf alone, and now having another 'mate' who didn’t reject me instantly. I was lost in thought when I heard a knock. "Selena, are you okay?" Damian's worried voice asked. "Yeah. I was about to finish," I replied. I turned off the shower, dried off, wrapped my hair in a towel, and hesitated before opening the door, realizing I wasn’t wearing anything. Nervously, I stepped out, bowing my head near the bed’s foot, then glanced up to see him gazing at me. I quickly looked down, crossing my feet, as he slowly approached. He lifted his hand and gently raised my chin. "Never bow your head to me or anyone else. You’re my equal." I nodded, trusting Damian deep down, knowing he wouldn't hurt me. If anything happened, he would protect me. "I don't have any clothes," I mumbled. "Don't worry. I'll send someone to bring some," he said. His voice made me feel electricity surge through me, and I shivered with delight. Suddenly, he stared at me, breaking my reverie with a deep chuckle. I bit my lip nervously, and his gaze shifted to my lips. Before I knew it, our faces were close, and I lost all composure. Our lips met, a remarkable sensation that made me want to hold him forever.

The cold bit through the thin cotton of the jumpsuit, but I barely registered it. It wasn’t the chill of the cell that stole my breath, but him. He was leaning against the far wall, a study in languid power, even confined. His face…it felt sacrilegious to simply look. High cheekbones, a strong jaw, and eyes the precise shade of jade after a rainstorm. But it was his mouth that drew every single one of my thoughts. The curve of his lips, a ripe and tempting plum, felt like a forbidden taste, a dangerous promise. It felt wrong, somehow, to find such beauty in a place like this.

I’d been brought in on a minor charge, a misunderstanding, a case of wrong place, wrong time. He… well, his story was whispered amongst the other inmates. Something about a deal gone bad, a powerful family, and a reputation for ruthlessness.

He hadn’t spoken to me, not at first. Just watched. And that, in itself, was unnerving. It felt like being examined, catalogued, judged. But then, one evening, during the brief period of semi-darkness before the night guard's rounds, he’d moved closer.

He’d been silent until then, but his voice was gravel and silk, a dangerous combination. “You don't belong here.” It wasn’t a question.

“Clearly,” I’d managed, a shaky edge to my voice.

His lips curved, a ghost of a smile. “That’s not what I meant.”

It was the way he said it, a slow, deliberate unfolding of sound, that short-circuited my rational thought. He closed the distance, and the scent of him sandalwood and something darker, something primal filled my senses. I remember the heat radiating from his body, the almost painful awareness of every inch of his proximity.

Then his lips were on mine.

Not rough, not demanding, but tentative, testing. It was a question, an invitation. I should have pulled away. Every instinct screamed at me to create space, to protect myself. But I didn't.

His taste was intoxicating, a blend of something sweet and something inherently dangerous. It felt like a surrender, a falling. He drew me in, slowly, inexorably, and I found myself responding, my own lips parting, seeking his. He licked the bottom lip, a deliberate taunt, and I, foolishly, playfully, denied him full access, holding back just enough to prolong the anticipation.

A hand, warm and heavy, rested on my hip, then trailed lower, squeezing the curve of my backside. A gasp escaped me, and Kaelen didn’t hesitate. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, and it was a point of no return.

It wasn’t just physical. It was the way he *saw* me, a recognition that went beyond the surface. It was a claiming, a possession, but not in a brutal way. It felt… wanted. The world shrunk to the sensation of his mouth on mine, the press of his body against mine, the thrumming heat between us.

How long we kissed, I couldn’t say. Time dissolved. When we finally broke apart, breathless and shaken, I stared into his eyes, now a darker, more intense shade of green. I knew my own gray eyes mirrored his dazed expression.

He brushed a stray strand of hair from my face, his touch surprisingly gentle. “I can smell your arousal,” he murmured, his voice rough with wanting. “And if it weren't for knowing you're not… willing, not fully, I would take you right now.” He paused, his gaze sweeping over me. “But…”

“We both know I’d regret it in the morning,” I finished, the words a fragile offering. The realization of the precariousness of the situation – the cell, the power imbalance, the sheer recklessness of attraction flooded back to me. It wasn't about avoiding regret, it was about agency.

A harsh knock on the door shattered the fragile intimacy. Damiam sighed, a weary sound, and reluctantly moved to answer it. A slender woman, impeccably dressed, stood in the doorway, holding a bundle of clothes. She didn't meet my gaze, offering only a brief, dismissive nod before handing the garments to Damian and retreating.

He gave me the clothes, a simple shift dress, practical and unremarkable. "Change," he said quietly. “You have time.”

I retreated to the small, cramped closet area, the scent of him clinging to the fabric of the clothes. When I emerged, Damian was sprawled on his cot, arms behind his head, regarding me with lazy intensity. He wore only a pair of sweatpants, and the stretch of muscle across his chest and stomach was… distracting. The sculpted lines of his abs drew my gaze and held it.

His eyes, dark green again, travelled over my body, and I fought the urge to flush. The power dynamic was undeniable, and unnerving.

I walked to the far end of the cot, cautiously settling into the narrow space. I scooted closer, drawn by a force I couldn’t explain, and rested my head on his chest.

The rise and fall of his breath was a steady rhythm against my ear. His arms, strong and warm, encircled my waist, his right hand settling just above my hips, a possessive, yet surprisingly tender gesture. I closed my eyes, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and felt a wave of peace wash over me, a sense of security I hadn’t known I was missing. It was a dangerous peace, built on shaky ground, but in that moment, it was enough.

I drifted into sleep, the best and most profound sleep I’d had in years, lulled by the warmth of his body and the rhythmic cadence of his heart.