Marked by the grey alpha

The Rejection

Selene's POV

"I reject you as my mate."

This was the words that came out from his mouth . The words cut me like a knife. I was numb where I stood, trembling in my hand, the flowers of the bouquet falling from my hand to the cold courtyard stone pavement. I looked up at him—Darius Veynor, the man destiny already chose for me. His eyes were silver, icy, no glint of sympathy there.

For an instant, I couldn't tell if I had dreamed it. Maybe he hadn't said anything. Then he smiled.

"Aww," he roared in feigned sympathy, his voice booming so that the whole courtyard could hear, "so the little omega believed that a rough Alpha would actually keep her?"

The entire courtyard was of stone. There were hundreds of eyes in total. Alphas and betas, omegas of the two packs—beyond the Grey Palace's Moon Courtyard, there to witness me being shamed under full moon.

"If you know what's good for you," he continued, showing his teeth, "accept my rejection and be gone. Perhaps some beta will be pitying upon you."

My heart closed tight. My lips trembled, and I couldn't talk.

He laughed again. "You and your worthless alpha keep your filthy claws out of my life. You don't belong here."

I wept in my eyes. I had to move a step, scream, do something—and I stood, every angry look's displeasure branding itself into my skin.

"I would not have come here if not for my parents," I told myself.

My searing lungs. My constricting chest. Rejection already coursing, burning through my veins. My knees weakening and I staggered, struggling to breathe.

Darius did not glance back over his shoulder. He left, his boots crushing the flowers that I had wept onto the ground. His guards followed him, their cloaks blowing in my face as if I did not exist.

Everywhere went dark. My head hummed and hummed with voices. The room collapsed around me.

"Take her," my alpha ordered. "We're going out."

I was lifted by two fighters extremely gingerly. I couldn't even attempt to help myself. My body started to go numb and cold and sea-sick at the rejection strangling me. I closed my eyes and hoped the whole thing away.

When they opened for the second time, we were already headed in the direction of the Grey Palace. I believed they were taking me back to my father's hut to recover from my broken heart, but we passed the high iron gates and into the palace grounds.

No one uttered a word. I did not even speak a word. I just sat, too exhausted to care.

They brought me into a tiny room with rocky walls and candles with smoldering burn marks. I crashed on the bed, headfirst, until there was this hag of an old woman who came in with her hands full of a tray of herbs.

She looked at me and an eyebrow rose. "You're death warmed over. What in the world did you do to yourself? Did the moon fall on your head?"

I opened my eyes to glance at her, not knowing what to say or do .

For goodness' sake, do not look at me like that," she said, setting the tray on the floor. "Men are fools. Eat this before you fall on my floor."

I gritted my teeth. "What is it?"

"Moon root," she announced with a toss of her hand. "It calms the heart of a rejected lover who cannot release sorrow."

I gasped with horror. "You sound as if it were something ordinary."

She shrugged. "More frequently than you might think. Drink before your heart exhausts itself."

I did. The stuff was nasty-tasting to drink, but it started to dissolve my chest immediately.

"Good," she smiled. "Out of that white bridal dress now before I incinerate it. You look like a drowned bride."

I stared. "I—what?"

"You Heard me. Sit up!

I attempted to object, but was too weak. I sat up, grunting, unzipping the robe.

"Cautious," she said, coming back with a bucket of hot water. "We'll clean you up. The Moon doesn't care for dirty heartbreak."

She lifted me up and carried me to the tub. The water was minty, herbal-smelling. She hummed for a bit scrubbing my hair, spouting gibberish.

But when she touched her fingers to my back, she stopped.

I rolled half-over onto my side. "Is something wrong?"

She smiled coldly. "Nothing, dear. I'm just checking your skin."

I glared. "Why?"

"Because I can, that's why. Now shut up."

She finished shearing me off and gave me a towel. "There. Better. You don't look so ghosty now."

"I don't feel any better," I growled.

She smiled. "Heartbreak doesn't fade quickly, sugar. Now lay down before you fall over."

I did. The bed was warm, the covers soft. She sat beside me, beat a torn seam of fabric like she had beaten something far more valuable to do.

My eyelids were closing when there was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," she panted softly, not lifting her head.

The voice—whispery and peaceful and commanding—produced heart jumps as the door creaked open. Heavy, lumbering footsteps patrolled the floor.

"How is she?" he growled.

He was Kaelen Duskbane, older stepbrother of Darius and alpha of the Grey Pack, grey Alpha. He dominated the room with his very presence, his silence to be respected without question.

"She'll be fine," the old woman said to him, i gave her moonroot tea

"Gave her what ?" Kaelen's deep, commanding voice. "You know what this does."

"Unwind," she teased. "Saves her life because of your so-called stepbrother's stupidity."

No reply from him.

"She's special," the woman continued, her voice lowering a tone, something that had never happened before.

Boots from Kaelen followed him. "Special? She's merely just a rejected omega."

"Just ?" Spat the woman. "If you're so sure, then you're as blind as your stepbrother is."

"I want her to heal," he snarled. "When she heals, she can return to her parents . The moon goddess mated them . It wasn't my fault q."

And I brought her here to heal so that I might regain my pack's honor

The crone shrugged her arms. "Oh, spare your nobility. You alphas and your pride. Always speaking like you're more than the will of the Moon."

Kaelen drew back for a moment. I could hear him breathe—slow and deep, as though he were struggling to hold back something.

"Why is she special ?" he inquired at last.

The woman placed her thread and needle on the table. The house was as quiet as a tomb.

"Come closer to me," she whispered.

I heard him scraping his boots on the floor as he came closer to where I was resting. My heart was racing, but I didn't budge.

The woman was standing near him, whispering and, whispering, I could hear what she was telling him.

"She has the Silver Crescent emblem on the right shoulder."

My heart stopped .”