THE REJECTED MATE'S SILVER BLOOD

I'd lived at Bloodmoon for fourteen years, and I'd never seen the mansion this packed. Music was blaring from the great hall, a thumping beat so heavy I could feel it in my feet, and wolves moved between the tables with silver cups and plates of roasted meat. The air was thick with the scents of wine, smoke, and a sweet smell I couldn't quite place, probably one of the desserts the cooks only made when important guests arrived. Everyone else had dressed for the occasion. I was sitting by the fireplace with my hands tucked into my sleeves. It was old, a little too big, and made of brown wool that had grown rough from years of washing. My mother had owned it before she died, and I was quite sure there were a dozen other things I might have worn if I'd ever had a dozen things to choose from. I didn't. It was the only nice thing I owned, and I wasn't going to borrow a dress from someone who would spend the entire night watching me like a hawk, waiting for the first stain to appear. Besides, I knew why I'd been asked to come. No one had suddenly decided they wanted me to join their celebrations. And I was the girl without a wolf who had ended up in the Bloodmoon manor because my mother had asked Lucian Vance—this pack former Alpha—to take care of me when she died. Lucian is gone now, too. Apparently, everyone who was supposed to look after me had a habit of disappearing. There was something almost funny about that. At least, I tried to believe it was a joke. It was easier than admitting that some stubborn, foolish part of me had spent years waiting for him to come back. After his father died, Killian stayed at Bloodmoon, and for years, we simply grew up together. I was seven when my mother died, and he was nine when he lost his father, so neither of us really understood what we were supposed to do with the grief that was left behind. Somehow, we found comfort in having each other around. He was the only person I saw almost every day. The boy who used to sneak out with me when we couldn't sleep, who would sit beside me beneath the old oak tree and complain about his training, who made those stupid promises about coming back for me no matter where life took him. I believed him. Until he left. I was fourteen when Killian went to the northern territories to train, and he was sixteen. At first, I thought he would only be gone for a little while. Then the months became years, and the letters became less frequent. I still heard things about him, though. People talked about how hard he trained, how he fought alongside warriors older than him, how he was becoming exactly the kind of Alpha Bloodmoon needed. His name started carrying a different weight. They now treated it with respect and sometimes even diffidence, as if the boy I had in mind was no longer a person to be underestimated. And I kept waiting for the day he would come home. Seven years had passed since I'd last seen him. I wondered if seven years had been enough for him to forget me. Then the great doors opened. The conversations around me seemed to disappear all at once. I looked up with everyone else. Killian walked into the hall. I couldn't quite place him beside the boy I remembered. His hair was longer, falling slightly across his forehead, and his shoulders looked broader beneath the black ceremonial coat. A mantle of charcoal wolf fur rested around his neck, and a faint scar crossed one eyebrow that I didn't remember. He looked older. Of course he did. Seven years was a long time. Then his eyes found mine. Amber. I recognized those eyes before I had the chance to think. And just like that, I remembered rubbed mint between my fingertips after two hours of playing outside, rain-soaked cedar after a storm, and eight-year-old Killian dragging me out of the river while I coughed water all over his shirt. I remembered sitting beside him behind the kitchen because I'd been crying and he'd hidden me there. I remembered the oak tree. His hand around mine. A promise neither of us had been old enough to understand. My chest tightened. Then something inside me pulled. Hard enough that I had to grip the edge of the fireplace. I knew what it was. So did everyone else. The Moon Goddess had chosen him. My mate. And for one utterly insane second, the entire room disappeared. I wasn't the girl everyone called wolfless. I wasn't the orphan who had been left behind in Bloodmoon after my mother died. I was just Elena, standing on the other side of a crowded hall from the boy I'd loved for most of my life. I smiled. I hated myself for it. Still, I stepped toward him. Killian didn't move. "Killian." His eyes remained on mine. I took another step. "You feel it too, don't you?" His gaze dropped briefly to my clothes. The sweater. The faded trousers. The boots I'd already repaired twice. Suddenly, I became painfully aware of how I looked standing in the middle of the hall while everyone around me wore silk and ceremonial black. His eyes returned to my face. His expression had changed. "Take your hand off me." I looked down. I hadn't even noticed that I'd grabbed his sleeve. I pulled my hand away. "We're mates." "I know." There was no surprise in his voice. That was what hurt first. Not the rejection. Just the fact that he already knew. "You knew?" "It was palpable the moment I walked in." I stared at him. "Then why do you look at me like that?" His jaw tightened. "Because the bond doesn't change what you are." I already knew what he meant. "You mean because I can't shift." "You have no wolf." "I know." His voice lowered. "You have no place beside an Alpha." He didn't need to say it loudly. The people who knew us best had already begun the charade of pretending they weren't listening. I could feel their eyes on me. I'd lived with their whispers for years. Tonight, they felt different. Tonight, every one of us knew he was deciding how much I was worth. I swallowed. "You used to think differently." Something flickered behind his eyes. "We were children." "You promised me." For a second, I thought I'd finally reached him. I saw something familiar there. The boy beneath the oak. The same boy who had once told me that being different didn't matter. Then it disappeared. "That boy who made those promises is dead." I stared into his cold, empty eyes. “You didn't mean that.” He stepped closer, lowering his head until his mouth was near my ear. His jaw tightened. “The boy who made those promises is gone,” he whispered. “He died when I became an Alpha. A rightful heir of my Father's throne." I almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Killian had never even dreamed of becoming Alpha when we were younger to begin with. I looked down at my hands, remembering the boy he used to be. "I've waited for you.. for seven years..” "I know." "I thought you'd come back." "I did." I looked at him. "But not for me." He didn't answer. I didn't need him to. My throat tightened anyway. I looked around the hall. All those people. All that music. All that food. And I'd never felt more alone in the house I'd called home for almost fourteen years. "Why am I even here?" Killian's eyes flickered toward the crowd before returning to me. "You were invited to the coronation." "That isn't what I asked." He said nothing. I watched his face. "You wanted me here." His expression hardened. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he hadn't wanted me here at all. Maybe he simply wanted everyone to see what happened when the girl without a wolf stood beside their new Alpha. Or maybe I was making excuses because the other possibility was worse. That he simply didn't want me. I hated how quickly the thought found its way into my head. This was Killian. The boy who had grown up beside me, who knew how I took my tea, who used to find me whenever I disappeared into the woods. He couldn't possibly look at me now and feel nothing. Could he? I searched his face, waiting for some small sign that I still meant something to him. But his expression gave me nothing. Then he spoke. "I, Killian Vance, Alpha of the Bloodmoon Pack, deny Elena the title of my mate and Luna." For a moment, I just stood there, staring at him. The room was still around me, the music was still playing somewhere, and I could hear people whispering, but none of it made sense anymore. All I could hear was his voice repeating those words in my head. Deny Elena. My stomach twisted, and my chest tightened so suddenly that I had to take a breath just to keep myself standing. I kept looking at Killian, waiting for him to look at me like he used to, waiting for some sign that this was a mistake or that he hadn't really meant it. But he didn't. He just stood there, and that hurt more than anything. I wanted to say something. Anything. I wanted to ask him why, or maybe tell him he was wrong, but my throat wouldn't let me. I could feel everyone watching me, waiting to see what I'd do. So I forced myself to stay still and tried to pretend I was fine, even though I wasn't. My legs finally gave out beneath me, and my knees struck the cold floor. Someone moved nearby, but no one touched me. I pressed a hand against my chest, trying to steady the ache that had settled there. It felt as though something inside me had been torn loose, leaving nothing behind but an emptiness that hurt with every breath. I tried to breathe through it, but the air wouldn't come easily. And somewhere between one breath and the next, the hall began to fade. I was seven again, on my knees in the snow, with blood spreading slowly across the white ground and three pale figures standing around my mother. Vampires. I remembered the old oak behind me, the way I'd squeezed myself beneath its branches while she fought them, and the way her eyes had found mine even from across the clearing. She knew where I was. She had always known. One of the vampires caught her, but she kept fighting until her strength gave out. Her magic reached me before she did, and then I remembered her voice. "Live, my sweet, little wolf." I could still feel the heat of her magic on my skin. "Forget the magic." "Forget the wolf." Her eyes found mine through the darkness. "Stay hidden until you are strong enough." Then one of them killed her. They tore her heart out. It had spent fourteen years trying to forget the sound she made. Seems like grief didn't care how many years you put it off. I opened my eyes. Killian was still standing before me. His face had gone pale. In one dumb second, I thought I saw regret. Then he looked away. "You are banished from Bloodmoon territory." My fingers went cold. I stared at him. "You have until moonrise." I had a hundred different questions I could have asked. Why? The question caught somewhere behind my teeth, along with everything else I wanted to say. How could he do this? Had all those years meant nothing? Had he ever loved me at all? I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My fingers tightened against the edge of the table until they hurt. There were too many people watching, too many eyes waiting for me to break, and somehow the only thing I managed to ask was, “Do you mean it?” Killian's eyes met mine. He said nothing. He didn't need to. I pushed myself up, but my legs nearly gave way beneath me. I caught the edge of the table before I could stumble, holding on until the room stopped spinning. No one moved to help. I was grateful for that. I couldn't bear their laughter, and I couldn't bear their pity either. I straightened slowly and looked at Killian one last time. For a moment, I searched his face for the boy beneath the oak tree, the one who used to look at me as though there was nowhere else he wanted to be. I found nothing I recognized. My throat tightened, but I swallowed it down. I wasn't going to give them tears. Not here. Not in front of him. I let my hand fall from the table and reached for the door. “May the Moon Goddess have mercy on you.” My fingers rested against the handle as I looked back at him once more. “Because I don't think I ever will.” I pushed the door open and stepped into the cold. Pine and damp earth filled my lungs, and I kept my eyes lowered as the tears finally slipped down my cheeks.. The doors shut behind me. I pulled my mother's sweater tighter around myself and kept walking, even though I had no idea where I was going. Bloodmoon was behind me. The Dead Woods were ahead, dark and unfamiliar, and somehow that didn't frighten me as much as turning around did. I thought I was leaving Bloodmoon behind. I thought the worst thing that could happen to me had already happened inside those walls. Then something stirred beneath my skin. I stopped and pressed a hand against my chest, feeling a strange warmth spread beneath my palm. It was faint, almost gone before I could make sense of it, and when I looked down at myself, there was nothing there. I stood still for another moment before lowering my hand. I didn't know what it was. I only knew it hadn't been there before, and somehow, it had started the moment Killian rejected me.