Rejected Omega Of The Twin Alphas

Their room is yours too

As the car crossed the border into Bloodfang territory, the forest around them seemed to darken and thicken, the trees stretching high like silent sentinels. The scent of pine and earth was laced with the subtle hint of power—an oppressive, daunting presence.

Lyra’s eyes widened, taking in the sprawling landscape. Rolling hills were crisscrossed with patrol paths, and she spotted wolves on guard, their eyes sharp and territorial. They radiated strength and discipline, an unspoken warning to any intruders.

Bloodfang was a name whispered in fear and reverence. The strongest and largest pack in the country, their influence extended beyond borders, and their alliances were deep-rooted. Stories claimed the warriors were relentless, and their Alpha was a force to be reckoned with—ruthless, cunning, and fiercely protective.

Lyra’s heart pounded harder. This was Kyson’s domain, where he ruled with an iron fist, and she was an unwanted mate—a weakness he was too proud to accept.

The car pulled up in front of the pack house, a massive structure carved from stone and wood. It loomed against the sky, imposing and regal, with intricate carvings of wolves running along its pillars. The house was more fortress than home, designed to intimidate.

Windows glowed warmly, a deceptive comfort against the cold aura surrounding the place. She’d heard whispers of this house—of how even the strongest Alphas from neighboring packs felt uneasy crossing its threshold.

Kyson opened the car door and stepped out without sparing her a glance. The door slammed shut with a finality that made her flinch. She reached for the handle with shaking hands, but before she could open it, Chase leaned over, his expression gentle.

“Come on,” he said, his tone softer than it had been. “I’ll help you.”

He stepped out and moved to her side, offering a hand. Lyra hesitated but accepted. Pain flared through her side as she stood, and she gasped, clutching her ribs. Chase’s grip tightened supportively.

“You need to see the pack doctor,” Chase insisted, his brow creased with concern. “Those wounds need treatment.”

“I...I’ll be fine,” Lyra protested, but even she didn’t believe it. Her legs trembled beneath her, and her vision swam. She felt small and out of place, standing in front of this intimidating house with a man who had saved her life but hated her existence.

“Just let the doc check you out,” Chase urged. “You’re strong, but don’t be stubborn. It’ll just make things worse.”

She opened her mouth to argue when a deep, commanding voice cut through the air.

“Well, well. What do we have here?”

Lyra’s head snapped toward the sound. A tall, broad-shouldered man strode out of the pack house. His hair was peppered with silver, and his piercing green eyes carried a dangerous edge softened only by a hint of amusement.

The power he radiated was impossible to ignore; it crashed over her like a tidal wave, demanding submission. Lyra swallowed hard, instinctively baring her neck.

Alpha Maverick. The Bloodfang Alpha. Kyson’s father. The rumors didn’t do him justice. He was intimidatingly handsome, his aura even stronger than his son’s. Where Kyson’s gaze burned with contempt, Maverick’s held a calculating sharpness.

“Alpha,” Chase greeted, bowing his head respectfully. Lyra mimicked the gesture, fear tightening her throat.

Maverick’s eyes flicked to Chase, then back to Lyra. He raised a brow. “Is this the mate my son so foolishly dragged back?”

Lyra’s cheeks flushed with shame, but Chase straightened. “Yes, Alpha. She was injured. I was taking her to the pack doctor.”

Maverick’s gaze lingered on her wounds, the blood soaking through her tattered clothes. A frown tugged at his lips. “And where is my son?”

Chase sighed. “He went inside without a word.”

A low growl rumbled from Maverick’s chest. “Always so damn impulsive.”

Lyra flinched, but Maverick’s gaze was back on her, pinning her in place. “So, you’re the one who’s tangled up my sons life. And here I thought they were too stubborn for fate to toy with.”

Lyra’s face burned hotter, shame and anger knotting in her chest. Was that all she was—a complication? A problem to be dealt with?

Maverick’s expression softened—barely. “Well, you’re here now. Let’s get you patched up. I won’t have my son’s mate bleeding all over my territory.”

Chase gave her a reassuring nod, but Lyra hesitated. Her mate—the one who despised her—had stormed off without even a backward glance. She didn’t belong here.

Maverick’s eyes narrowed. “Come, girl. We don’t coddle the weak, but we don’t abandon them either.”

Lyra swallowed hard. She had no choice. As much as she wanted to run, her legs wouldn’t carry her far, and she’d never survive outside Bloodfang’s borders. Reluctantly, she nodded.

Chase sighed in relief. “Let’s get you looked at before you collapse on us.”

Lyra clenched her fists. She would survive this—whatever it took. Even if it meant living with a mate who despised her and a father-in-law who looked at her like a liability. She had no choice but to face whatever Bloodfang had in store.

After her visit to the pack doctor, Lyra’s wounds were wrapped tightly in fresh bandages, but the dull throb of pain persisted, a reminder of her narrow escape. The antiseptic scent clung to her, sharp and medicinal, mixing with the faint earthy smell of herbs.

Her thoughts twisted into a tangled knot of dread and uncertainty. The doctor had worked swiftly and professionally, but the detached efficiency had left her feeling cold, exposed—just another wounded stray to be patched up.

She walked beside Chase down a long corridor lined with paintings of alphas past—each face carved in oil and shadow, eyes stern and unyielding. Lyra barely noticed the opulence; her thoughts drifted to Kyson’s icy eyes, the snarl that had dripped disdain. The fresh memory left her raw, a wound no doctor could bandage.

Suddenly, the sound of rapid footsteps echoed down the hall. A whirlwind of golden hair and bright eyes barreled toward them. The girl’s face lit up as she spotted Chase, her joy spilling over.

“Chase!” the girl squealed, launching herself into his arms. She fit against him with the ease of a puzzle piece, her arms wrapping around his neck. Chase chuckled, catching her effortlessly.

“Easy, Myla,” Chase murmured, grinning as he held her close. He kissed her forehead, eyes softening as he brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I missed you too.”

Myla beamed, her happiness radiant enough to chase away shadows. She was petite, but her spirit filled the room. “I was so worried! I heard you went out to get Kyson, and then there were rogues—”

“Shh,” Chase hushed her, tucking her closer. “I’m fine, Myla. You know me—harder to kill than a cockroach.”

She smacked his chest lightly. “Not funny! You could have been hurt!”

Chase only laughed, a deep rumble that made Myla blush. She swatted him again, but her smile was playful. Lyra watched them, a knot of envy coiling tighter in her stomach. The way Myla’s eyes shone with unguarded affection, the way Chase’s face softened—was this what mates were meant to be? A bond of trust and devotion, not bitter rejection and cold stares.

Lyra’s fingers twitched, the ache in her chest worsening. She averted her gaze, but Myla’s bright eyes were already on her.

“Oh!” Myla gasped, slipping from Chase’s arms. “You must be Lyra!”

Lyra managed a nod. Myla’s enthusiasm was overwhelming. The girl’s eyes roamed over Lyra’s bandages, softening with sympathy.

“You poor thing! You’re hurt,” Myla fretted, her expression earnest. “Those rogues must have been vicious. I can’t believe you ran off like that!”

Lyra glanced away, cheeks burning. “I, um—”

“She’s tougher than she looks,” Chase interrupted, giving Lyra a crooked grin. “But she needs rest.”

Myla nodded vigorously. “Of course! You’ll feel so much better after some sleep. We’ll get you settled in right away!”

Lyra hesitated, shifting uneasily. “A guest room is fine—”

“Nonsense,” Myla cut her off. “Alpha Maverick said you’re to stay in the twins’ room.”

Lyra stiffened. Her eyes widened, panic flickering in her gaze. “What? No, I can’t—”

“It’s an order,” Chase said firmly. “And trust me, you don’t want to defy Maverick. He might seem laid-back, but he’s not one to cross.”

Lyra’s mouth went dry. The thought of stepping into twin space—let alone sleeping there—made her stomach churn. Memories of his contemptuous glare and harsh words resurfaced. Being surrounded by his scent, feeling the weight of his rejection—no. She couldn’t bear it.

“I really don’t think—”

Myla took her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “You’ll be fine! It’s not as scary as it sounds. Besides, Xander practically lives in the training grounds, and Kyson’s always brooding off somewhere. You’ll probably have the place to yourself most of the time.”

The words did little to calm Lyra’s nerves, but Chase’s stern expression left no room for argument. Reluctantly, she nodded.

“Great!” Myla chirped, tugging her forward. “Come on, I’ll show you the way!”

Lyra stumbled after her, sending Chase a desperate, pleading look. He merely shrugged. “Get some rest.”

Lyra had no choice but to follow. Myla led her up a grand staircase, the bannister carved from polished wood, gleaming under the chandeliers’ warm light. The pack house was an intimidating blend of luxury and primal strength—richly decorated but undeniably dangerous. The air smelled of leather, musk, and faint traces of blood.

Myla chattered away as they walked, seemingly oblivious to Lyra’s anxiety. “You’ll love it here! The pack is super welcoming once you settle in. The twins can be a bit intense, but they’re good guys deep down. Kyson’s...well, he’s a handful, but Xander’s sweet. I mean, he could charm a snake if he wanted.”

Lyra offered a weak smile, her dread mounting with each step. They stopped in front of a large, imposing door, the wood dark and heavy. Myla pushed it open, revealing a spacious room with two beds on either side. The space was masculine—dark colors, crisp sheets, weapons mounted on the walls. The air was thick with their scents—musk, cedar, and the lingering promise of dominance.

Lyra swallowed hard. “I can’t stay here.”

Myla gave her a gentle smile. “It’s not so bad. And you’ll be safe.”

Lyra opened her mouth to argue, but Myla was already pulling back, glancing over her shoulder. “Rest up! I’ll bring you something to eat later. Just relax, okay?”

Before Lyra could protest, Myla slipped out, closing the door with a soft click. The silence settled around her, heavy and stifling. She stood frozen, staring at the bed. The scent of her mates clung to the air, taunting her. The space felt far too intimate, and the walls seemed to whisper that she didn’t belong.

Slowly, Lyra sank onto the edge of one bed, curling her arms around herself. The ache in her chest deepened. She was surrounded by reminders of mates who didn’t want her. The bed was soft beneath her, but she felt no comfort. Her gaze lingered on the weapons lining the walls—blades that glimmered with deadly intent.

Trapped. That’s what she was. Bound by a bond she hadn’t asked for, drawn to men who resented her existence.

Lyra closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe. Tomorrow would be another fight. But tonight, she would gather whatever strength she had left. Even if she had to do it alone.