Rejected By My Mate: Claimed By The Alpha

Why him

Seraphina’s POV

I didn’t sleep.

Even after Lucien left—without another word, just a quiet nod and the soft click of the door behind him—I laid on the edge of the hotel bed, staring at the ceiling like it held answers.

But it didn’t.

My thoughts tangled like thorns. Every time I tried to pull free of them, another memory caught me. Karl’s voice. His rejection. His cold eyes. The way his touch used to burn but never warm me.

Then Lucien’s voice, layered over it all.

“I’m not forcing you. Just consider it.”

The gentleness in it unsettled me more than a threat ever could.

I sat up just as dawn began to bleed light through the hotel window. My chest ached with something I couldn’t name. Not quite fear. Not quite longing. Somewhere in between.

I needed air.

Slipping into jeans and an oversized hoodie, I stepped outside. The city was barely waking. A few cars passed. A jogger brushed by me. But none of them noticed the war I carried in my chest.

I found a small park nearby. Empty benches, dew on the grass, and a silence I could finally breathe in.

I sat. Let the cool morning wrap around me.

Why him?

Out of all the wolves the Moon Goddess could’ve tied me to… Why Lucien

But deep down, something was shifting. No matter how much I resisted, something had begun unraveling the moment Lucien looked at me with that kind of patience. The kind no Alpha had ever shown me.

Maybe that was what scared me most.

Not him.

Not the bond.

But the idea that this time… it might not end in pain.

“Hey.”

The voice was quiet. Familiar.

I looked up and found Lucien standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets, not moving closer.

“I figured I’d find you here,” he said, shrugging. “I caught your scent before I even reached the elevator.”

Of course he did. Alpha senses.

I turned back to the trees. “Stalking me now?”

“Just… checking on you.”

He didn’t sit. Didn’t invade the space I’d carved out for myself.

“I meant what I said,” he continued. “You don’t have to give me anything. Not trust, not a promise. Just… space to show you I’m not him.”

“I didn’t ask for that.”

“I know,” he said. “But I’m offering it anyway.”

I looked at him then. Really looked.

There was no smugness in his stance. No demand in his tone. Just sincerity that felt dangerously close to hope.

“You say that now,” I murmured, “but what happens when I’m not what you expected?”

“Then I’ll adjust my expectations.”

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I shook my head. “You’re frustrating, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of my mouth before I could stop it.

I hated how easy it was to do that with him. To feel that flutter of warmth when he wasn’t even trying to impress me.

I stood up. Brushed off my jeans.

“This doesn’t mean I’ve made a decision,” I said.

“I didn’t think you had.”

“But I’m not running either.”

Something flickered in his eyes. Pride? Relief? I wasn’t sure. But he gave a short nod and finally allowed himself a small smile.

“Good,” he said. “Then that’s a start.”

And for the first time in a long time, it felt like maybe… it was.