Rejected Omega Of The Twin Alphas

Weak and unwanted

The forest was a blur of shadows and whispers, the chill of the night biting into Lyra’s skin as she crumpled to the ground. Pain throbbed in her neck and arm, blood trickling warm and sticky. Her breaths came fast and shallow, panic clawing at her chest. She could still see the rogue’s snarling jaws in her mind, the scent of wet fur and blood lingering in the air.

A shadow loomed over her, blocking out the pale light of the moon. Her vision swam, but she could make out the powerful frame of a man—tall, broad-shouldered, and cloaked in fury.

Kyson.

His eyes glowed a fierce, molten gold as he looked down at her, his lips curling back to reveal teeth that were almost more wolf than man. There was no relief in his gaze, no softness—only a simmering hatred that made her heart clench.

“You really are pathetic. You can't even save yourself from a few rogues,” he spat, eyes narrowing in disgust. “A weak, useless omega like you shouldn’t even be alive.”

Lyra flinched as if he’d struck her. The words sliced deeper than any claw or fang ever could. Weak. Useless. The rejection echoed in her ears, amplifying her shame and pain. Her throat tightened, but she forced herself to meet his eyes.

“Then why did you save me?” she asked, the defiance trembling beneath her bitterness. Her body screamed in protest as she shifted, clutching her bleeding arm.

Kyson’s gaze hardened. “Because I haven’t rejected you yet. Our bond is still fresh. If you die, my wolf will feel the pain of your death—agony so intense it could drive me mad.” He leaned closer, his face a cold mask. “So, until I finish the rejection, you’re going to live, even if it means dragging your worthless ass around myself.”

The cruelty in his voice made Lyra’s head swim. She had been prepared for rejection, but this cold calculation, this scorn—it was worse. She felt the sting of tears but refused to let them fall. The ache in her heart twisted tighter.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” she whispered.

“Doesn’t have to,” he growled back. “Get up.”

“I can’t—”

“I don’t care.”

Before she could protest, Kyson’s arm wrapped around her waist and he hauled her up as if she weighed nothing. Lyra gasped as he threw her over his shoulder, her wounded arm pressing painfully into his back. Blood dripped from her neck, leaving a warm, wet trail down her collarbone. She kicked weakly, pounding her fists against his back.

“Put me down!” she screamed. The motion jostled her injury, sending a fresh wave of pain searing through her. She grit her teeth against the cry that tried to escape.

Kyson’s grip tightened, fingers pressing bruisingly into her thighs. “Keep struggling, and I’ll tie you up like the disobedient b***h you are,” he snarled.

Humiliation washed over her, hot and suffocating. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes. She stilled, her pride crushed under the weight of his words. The scent of forest soil and blood filled her nose as he trudged through the undergrowth, branches snapping beneath his heavy strides.

“Why bother saving me if you hate me so much?” she muttered bitterly.

“I told you,” Kyson snapped. “This is for me, not you. My wolf wants you alive for now.”

His words were ice, seeping deep into her bones. A lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed it down. He was wrong. She wasn’t weak. She wouldn’t let herself be.

The forest thinned, and Lyra spotted the headlights of a car parked near the tree line. Chase stood beside it, his eyes widening as he took in the blood splattered across her body and the cold fury etched into Kyson’s face.

“What the hell happened?” Chase asked, looking from Kyson to Lyra.

“Found her playing with rogues,” Kyson said harshly, striding toward the car.

Chase’s eyes filled with alarm. “Is she—”

“She’s fine,” Kyson snapped. “Unfortunately.”

Lyra’s pulse pounded, her humiliation complete. Her body trembled as Kyson yanked the car door open and, with a dismissive grunt, tossed her inside. She landed hard against the seat, wincing as her injuries flared.

Chase stepped forward. “Easy, Kyson, she’s hurt—”

“Then she should’ve thought of that before running off like a reckless i***t,” Kyson growled.

He leaned over her, eyes cold and merciless. “Stay put. Try running again, and I’ll drag you back by your hair.”

Lyra’s chest heaved as she met his gaze, refusing to look away despite the panic clawing at her insides. The mate bond should have made him want her, should have brought comfort and warmth. But all she saw in Kyson’s eyes was contempt.

With one last scornful glance, Kyson slammed the car door. The thud echoed in her ears, final and absolute. Lyra closed her eyes and leaned back against the seat, clutching her bleeding arm.

Pain was a sharp, biting thing—physical and emotional, ripping her apart from the inside out. She didn’t know which ache hurt more.

Lyra’s entire body trembled as he entered from the other side and the car door clicked shut beside him. Kyson’s presence was a violent storm, suffocating the air with dominance and aggression. The alpha aura pouring off him was oppressive—an invisible chokehold tightening around her throat.

Sweat slicked her palms as she gripped the car door, her nails digging into the leather. Each breath was a labor, shallow and desperate. She scurried as far as she could from him, pressing herself against the cool window, but it did nothing to relieve the crushing weight in her chest.

It was instinctual and primal. An omega’s body reacting to the presence of an alpha—her mate. The bond crackled between them, raw and fierce, whispering submission even as she fought against it. Her wolf whined, urging her to give in, to bow her head and expose her neck in a gesture of surrender.

But Lyra grit her teeth and refused. She wouldn’t submit, not to someone who looked at her like she was worthless.

Kyson didn’t seem to care. He sprawled against the seat with all the confidence of a predator who knew exactly how much power he held. Arms crossed over his broad chest, his glare fixed on the road ahead, though she could feel the burn of his gaze flicking toward her now and then. His presence filled the confined space, suffocating and unavoidable.

The scent of forest pine and smoke clung to him, potent and intoxicating. It should have been comforting—mate scents were meant to soothe—but his was laced with hostility and disdain. The mate bond rebelled, pushing and pulling at her insides. She felt the draw toward him—the magnetic need to be close, to touch, to soothe—but it warred against the gut-twisting knowledge that he didn’t want her.

Chase settled behind the wheel, casting a wary glance between them. His gaze lingered on Lyra, the concern etched in the lines of his face softening the harsh angles.

“Kyson,” he said, careful but firm. “Reel it in. You’re suffocating her.”

Kyson’s eyes snapped to Chase, a muscle feathering in his jaw. “She’ll manage.”

Chase’s brows knitted together. “She’s barely breathing.”

Kyson’s jaw clenched as he watched the way Chase’s eyes lingered on Lyra, protective and gentle. The sight ignited a surge of jealousy, a primal urge to bare his teeth and snarl at the Beta for daring to show concern for his mate. The irrational possessiveness clawed at him, a suffocating reminder of the mate bond’s grip—a bond he despised.

He hated how the pull twisted his instincts, making him want to claim her even when he wanted nothing to do with her. The bond was a weakness, a chain wrapped around his mind, forcing emotions he didn’t want. It was a constant reminder that his strength meant nothing against this primitive instinct. The jealousy made his blood boil, and he loathed how easily it controlled him.

A mocking smirk tugged at the corner of Kyson’s mouth as he took in her gasping breaths. “Weak omega,” he muttered under his breath.

Lyra’s cheeks burned. She shot him a glare, but her vision blurred, and the words died on her tongue. Even now, the bond tugged relentlessly, urging her closer to the one who despised her. Her wolf cried out for the comfort of a mate but her rational mind screamed against it.

Chase sighed heavily, his fingers tightening on the wheel. “Kyson, you can’t keep doing this. You know the pull will just get worse the longer you resist. Both for you and Lyra.”

Kyson scoffed. “And you think giving in is the answer? Letting the bond control me? Make me weak?” He shot Chase a venomous look. “The pull is a leash. A chain. It makes wolves stupid, desperate, willing to grovel just to appease their mate. I won’t be controlled by it.”

Chase’s jaw clenched. “It’s not weakness to accept a bond. It makes us stronger.”

“It makes you a puppet,” Kyson snarled. “A slave to instincts. I’ve seen it happen, watched strong alphas lose their edge—softened by a pretty face and a scent. That’s not going to be me.”

Lyra’s fingers curled into fists, nails digging into her palms. She should hate him. His words were cruel, dripping disdain, but her wolf still whimpered, aching for the bond to be accepted. She wanted to be wanted—to belong. But this wasn’t the fairy-tale she’d dreamed of.

“What’s the point of rejecting me, then?” she bit out, glaring at Kyson. Her voice trembled, but she held her ground. “If you hate the bond so much, why not reject me properly and be done with it?”

Kyson’s gaze flicked to her, surprised that she was still able to make a noise. “If I reject you right now, the backlash would rip me apart. My wolf wants you—no matter how useless you are. Until the bond weakens, you’re stuck breathing.”

The callousness in his voice made her throat tighten. The bond was supposed to be a gift, a connection that strengthened wolves and completed them. But to Kyson, it was a curse. A shackle.

“So you’re just...keeping me alive out of convenience?” she whispered.

Kyson leaned back, eyes narrowing. “If I have to.” He glanced at Chase. “Drive. And don’t say a word until we get back.”

Chase’s lips thinned, but he didn’t argue. The engine rumbled to life, vibrating through the car as the headlights cut through the darkness. Silence settled heavy and cold.

Lyra pressed herself against the window, feeling the distant throb of her wounds and the sharper ache of rejection. The ache of wanting something she could never have—never be worthy of.

She cast a sidelong glance at Kyson. His face was a cold mask of indifference, but his hands were clenched tight on his thighs, tension thrumming through his body. His wolf was fighting the pull too, even if he denied it.

The bond wasn’t something that could be easily ignored. It was a call of the soul, binding mates together in ways no wolf could resist forever. It was why the pain of rejection was so brutal—like tearing away a piece of yourself.

She couldn’t imagine living like this—caught in the grip of a bond she craved but was denied. The pull whispered promises of comfort, of belonging, but she was left to suffer alone.

Weak. Unwanted.

The car rolled deeper into the night, the hum of the engine drowning out the sound of her breaking heart.