Forged in the Beta's Claim

The bass is so loud I can feel it in my chest, competing with my heartbeat for dominance. Someone—probably Zack—has spiked the punch again, and half the pack's younger members are pretending they don't notice while Alpha Ilas pretends he doesn't see. It's my eighteenth birthday, and the Crescent Moon Pack knows how to throw a party. "Speech! Speech!" My best friend Talia is standing on a chair, her dark curls bouncing as she cups her hands around her mouth. The crowd picks up the chant, and I roll my eyes. "Absolutely not," I call back, but I'm grinning. "The last time I gave a speech, I accidentally called Alpha Ilas 'Alpha i***t' and had to run laps for a week." The crowd erupts into laughter. Even Alpha Ilas, standing near the food table with his mate, chuckles and shakes his head. That's the thing about our pack—we're family. Dysfunctional, loud, occasionally violent family, but family nonetheless. "Come on, Ivory!" someone shouts. "You're officially an adult now. You might find your mate tonight!" My wolf perks up at that, and I feel her stretch inside me like she's been sleeping for years and just woke up. The mate bond. Every wolf's destiny, supposedly. The one person in the world who's meant to be yours, and you're meant to be theirs. Soul-deep, unbreakable, eternal. I've always thought it sounded a little dramatic, honestly. "If my mate is in this room," I announce, jumping onto the chair next to Talia, "they better have a sense of humor and a high tolerance for sarcasm, or this is going to be a very short relationship!" Talia steadies me as I wobble slightly—okay, maybe I had some of that spiked punch—and I'm about to jump down when my hands tingle. I glance down and for just a second, I could swear I see a shimmer across my palms, like heat waves rising off summer pavement. I blink and it's gone. Probably the punch. Or the strobe lights someone thought were a good idea. The back door opens. The scent hits me like a physical force. Pine and cedar and something crisp like winter mornings. Clean and sharp and so fundamentally right that my wolf doesn't just perk up—she lunges forward, slamming against my consciousness with a force that nearly knocks me off the chair. My vision blurs. My skin feels too tight. Every nerve ending in my body lights up like someone's run an electric current through me. But there's something else too. Something deeper than the mate bond, older than the recognition singing through my veins. It pulses beneath my skin like a second heartbeat, ancient and vast and utterly foreign. My wolf whines, confused, drawn to it even as she doesn't understand it. The sensation is there and gone in a heartbeat, swallowed by the overwhelming force of the mate bond. Mate. The word echoes through my mind in my wolf's voice, primal and absolute. Mate. Mate. MATE. I grip Talia's shoulder, and she must see something in my face because her eyes go wide. "Ivory? You okay?" I can't answer. I'm scanning the crowd, following that scent like a bloodhound, and then I see him. Gavin Flemings. He's standing in the doorway, and his blue eyes are locked on me with an intensity that makes my breath catch. He's tall—taller than I remembered—with dark hair that's slightly too long and the kind of lean, athletic build that comes from actual work, not just gym time. He's the pack doctor's son, training to follow in his father's footsteps. Smart. Capable. And apparently, mine. His nostrils flare as he scents the air, and I watch his entire body go rigid. His eyes widen, then immediately—immediately—his face falls. Not just surprise. Not just shock. Conflict. Pain. And something that looks horribly like regret. My stomach drops. That's when I notice her. Sierra Ating, standing just behind him, her hand on his arm. She's beautiful in that effortless way that makes other girls hate her—long blonde hair, warrior's build, the kind of confidence that comes from knowing you're good at what you do. She transferred to our pack six months ago after rogues killed her mate and parents. A tragedy that made everyone want to protect her, help her, give her a place to belong. Gavin had volunteered to be that place. I knew they were together. Everyone knew. It had started as a political arrangement—Alpha Ilas wanting to integrate her into the pack, Gavin's family wanting to strengthen their position. But somewhere along the way, it had become real. At least for Gavin. He looks at her like she hung the moon and personally arranged the stars. He's looking at her that way right now, even as the mate bond thrums between us like a living thing. "Ivory?" Talia's voice is distant. "What's wrong?" I force myself to move, to climb down from the chair on legs that feel like they're made of water. The crowd is still laughing, still celebrating, completely unaware that my entire world just tilted on its axis. Gavin is moving toward me, and Sierra is following, confusion clear on her perfect face. He weaves through the crowd, and I meet him halfway, my heart hammering so hard I'm surprised it doesn't bruise my ribs. Up close, the scent is overwhelming. My wolf is practically purring, pressing against my skin like she wants to burst out and claim him right here, right now. The mate bond is singing, a frequency only we can hear, calling us together with a force that feels older than time. "Ivory." His voice is rough, strained. "I—" "You feel it." It's not a question. I can see it in his eyes, in the way his hands are clenched at his sides like he's physically restraining himself from reaching for me. "I feel it," he confirms, and there's something in his tone that makes my chest tighten. Not joy. Not excitement. Resignation. Sierra has caught up to us now, and she's looking between us with growing understanding. I watch the exact moment it clicks—her entire body goes rigid, her spine straightening like she's bracing for impact. Her hand tightens on Gavin's arm, knuckles going white, protective and possessive and desperate all at once. But when her eyes meet mine, I see something that makes my breath catch. Recognition. Not just of what's happening, but of what it means. She knows—of course she knows—what a fated mate bond feels like. She had one once. Lost him to violence and chaos and a fate that had nothing to do with choice. And in her eyes, I see it all: understanding that cuts bone-deep, guilt that she can't quite hide, fear of losing what she's rebuilt from the ashes of her first life. There's pain there too, the kind that comes from knowing exactly what I'm feeling because she's felt it herself. She's not oblivious. She's not cruel. She's just terrified. Gavin's free hand comes up to cover hers where it grips his arm. Protective. Possessive. The gesture feels like a knife between my ribs. "We need to talk," Gavin says, his eyes never leaving mine. "Privately." I want to make a joke. Want to say something funny and deflecting, something that will make this moment less intense, less real. But my throat is tight, and my wolf is howling, and all I can do is nod. He looks at Sierra, and the softness in his expression makes me want to vomit. "I'll be right back," he tells her gently. "I just need to... we need to..." "I understand," Sierra says, and her voice is quiet, heavy with a weight that goes beyond this moment. She does understand—the sacred pull of a mate bond, the cosmic significance of what the Moon Goddess has declared. That's what makes this so much worse. She knows exactly what she's standing in the way of, and she's doing it anyway because the alternative is losing everything she's fought to build after her world ended. "Take your time." Gavin leads me away from the party, through the crowd that's still laughing and dancing, oblivious to the drama unfolding. We pass Talia, and I see her worried face, but I can't stop to explain. Can't stop moving because if I do, I might fall apart right here. We end up in one of the side rooms off the main hall—a small office that Alpha Ilas uses for pack business. Gavin closes the door behind us, and suddenly the music is muffled, distant. It's just us and the mate bond and the terrible knowledge of what's about to happen. "Ivory," he starts, and I hold up a hand. "Let me guess," I say, and I'm proud of how steady my voice is. "You're going to tell me that you're with Sierra. That you care about her. That this—" I gesture between us, "—is complicated." He has the grace to look uncomfortable. "It's not that simple." "Isn't it?" I cross my arms, a defensive gesture I can't quite suppress. My wolf is snarling now, confused and hurt. "The Moon Goddess paired us, Gavin. That's pretty simple." "Sierra needs me." The words come out firm, almost defensive. "She lost everything. Her mate, her parents, her entire pack. When she came here, she was broken. I helped put her back together. We built something real." "You built something real," I repeat, and there's an edge to my voice now. "In six months. While your actual, fated mate was apparently just waiting around for you to notice her." "That's not fair." "Fair?" I laugh, and it sounds slightly unhinged even to my own ears. "You want to talk about fair? I just found my mate—the person I'm supposed to spend my life with—and he's already looking at me like I'm a problem to be solved." Gavin runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "You don't understand. Sierra has been through hell. She wakes up screaming from nightmares. She can't be alone without panicking. She needs stability, needs someone she can count on. I can't just abandon her because of some biological imperative." Some biological imperative. He's talking about the mate bond—the most sacred thing in our culture—like it's an inconvenience. "She had a mate," I point out, trying to keep my voice level. "She knows what it feels like. And she's standing between you and yours." "She's not standing between anything." His voice rises slightly, defensive. "This isn't about her. This is about us—about what's right. I made a commitment to Sierra. I love her." The words hit like a physical blow. My wolf whimpers, and I feel something crack inside my chest. "You love her," I say flatly. "Yes." He meets my eyes, and I see the truth there. He does love her. Maybe not with the intensity of a mate bond, but it's real. "I know this isn't what you want to hear. I know the mate bond is supposed to be everything. But I chose Sierra. I'm choosing her." "You don't get to choose." My voice is sharper now, anger bleeding through the hurt. "That's not how this works." "Maybe it should be." He takes a step closer, and I can smell him—that perfect, maddening scent that makes my wolf keen with longing. "Ivory, you're young. You're strong. You'll find someone else, someone who can give you what you deserve. But Sierra only has me. If I leave her now, after everything she's been through..." "She'll survive," I interrupt. "She's a warrior. She's survived worse." "I won't do that to her." His jaw sets, stubborn. "I'm sorry, Ivory. I really am. You seem like a great person. You're funny and strong, and in another life, maybe... but this is the life we're in. And in this life, I'm with Sierra." I stare at him, this stranger who's supposed to be my other half, and I realize he doesn't get it. He doesn't understand what he's doing, what this means. To him, this is a difficult conversation. An awkward situation. He's trying to be kind, trying to let me down easy. He has no idea he's destroying me. "So what?" I ask, and my voice cracks slightly. "You're just going to ignore the mate bond? Pretend it doesn't exist?" "No." He takes a deep breath, and I see his resolve harden. "I'm going to reject it. Reject you. Formally." The room spins. "Gavin—" "It's the only way," he says, and he actually sounds sorry. Like that makes it better. "If we don't formally reject the bond, it'll always be there, pulling at us. This way, we can both move on. You can find someone else, someone who chooses you first." "I don't want someone else!" The words burst out of me, raw and honest. "I want my mate. I want what the Moon Goddess gave me. I want—" "I'm sorry," he says again, and he reaches out like he's going to touch my arm. Comfort me. I jerk back, and hurt flashes across his face. "Ivory, please understand. This isn't about you. You didn't do anything wrong. It's just... Sierra needs me more." And there it is. The truth. I'm not enough. Not broken enough, not tragic enough, not needy enough to compete with Sierra's trauma and Gavin's savior complex. "Fine." The word comes out cold. Flat. "Do it then. Reject me." "Ivory—" "Do it!" My voice echoes off the walls. "If you're going to break my heart, at least have the balls to do it quickly." He flinches. Nods. Takes a breath. And then he speaks the words that will sever the bond the Moon Goddess herself created. "I, Gavin Flemings, reject you, Ivory Galloway, as my mate." The pain is immediate and catastrophic. Someone has reached into my chest and ripped out my heart. Every nerve ending in my body is on fire. My wolf howls—a sound of pure anguish that echoes through my mind—and I feel her retreat, wounded and broken. The mate bond, that golden thread I'd felt for all of five minutes, snaps. I gasp, doubling over. Distantly I'm aware that Gavin is on his knees too, his face twisted in agony. The rejection hurts both of us equally—that's the price of breaking what the Moon Goddess made. But I can't focus on his pain. Can't focus on anything except the gaping wound where my mate bond used to be. The door bursts open. Talia is there, and Zack, and suddenly there are people crowding into the small office, drawn by the scent of our distress. Gasps. Whispers. The news spreading like wildfire. Gavin rejected his mate. Ivory Galloway was rejected. On her birthday. For Sierra. The pity in their eyes is almost worse than the pain. Sierra pushes through the crowd, dropping to her knees beside Gavin. "Are you okay?" she asks him, her hands on his face. He nods weakly. She helps him up, supporting his weight, and they stumble out of the room together. No one helps me up. I stay on my knees, arms wrapped around my middle, trying to breathe through the agony. Talia is beside me, her hand on my back, but I can't hear what she's saying. The sound of my wolf's grief drowns out everything else, along with the whispers of the pack. Rejected. Rejected. Rejected. The word follows me as I finally, finally manage to stand. As I push through the crowd of pitying faces and concerned murmurs. As I stumble out of the pack house into the cool night air, my birthday party still raging behind me, now with the juiciest gossip the Crescent Moon Pack has had in years. I make it to the tree line before I collapse. Before the sobs finally break free. Before I let myself fall completely apart under the light of the moon that was supposed to bless me with my perfect match. Happy birthday to me.