The Alpha's Rejected Mate

The first thing Eva heard every morning was her stepmother's voice. "Eva!" Her eyes opened instantly. For a few seconds, she remained still beneath the thin blanket, staring at the cracks spreading across the ceiling above her. The room was cold, and the early morning darkness pressed against the small window. "Eva!" This time the voice was louder. "I'm awake!" Eva called. Heavy footsteps approached her door. She quickly pushed herself out of bed. The door swung open. Her stepmother stood there, already dressed in a neat cream-colored gown, her dark hair perfectly arranged despite the early hour. "Then why are you still in bed?" Eva lowered her head. "I was getting up." Her stepmother's eyes traveled over the small room. "Breakfast needs to be prepared. Your father wants his black tea at six. The chickens need feeding, the laundry needs to be collected, and Catherine's room needs cleaning." Eva nodded. "Yes." "And don't forget the firewood." "I won't." Her stepmother turned to leave. "Wait." Eva looked up. "Yes?" "Catherine wants her blue dress washed before noon. She is going to town this afternoon." Eva nodded again. "Yes." "And Mary needs her shoes polished." "I'll do it." Her stepmother paused at the doorway. "And Eva?" "Yes?" "Try not to make mistakes today." The door closed. Eva stared at it. She didn't know why that sentence hurt. Perhaps because she heard it every day. She glanced at the small clock on the table. Five thirty. She had slept for barely four hours. Still, she had no choice. Eva dressed quickly. Her clothes were simple—a faded brown dress that had belonged to Mary several years earlier. The sleeves were slightly too short, and the fabric had become thin from repeated washing. She tied her long dark hair behind her head and stepped into the hallway. The house was still quiet. Eva moved downstairs and entered the kitchen. The first thing she did was light the stove. Then she began preparing breakfast. Bread. Eggs. Tea. Porridge. She moved quickly, her hands accustomed to the routine. By the time the first rays of sunlight appeared beyond the windows, breakfast was ready. Eva carried the plates into the dining room. Her father was already sitting at the head of the table. He barely glanced at her. "Where is my tea?" "Coming, Father." Eva hurried back to the kitchen. She poured his tea into his favorite cup and carried it to him. He took one sip. "Too hot." Eva froze. "I'm sorry." He pushed the cup away. "Let it cool." "Yes, Father." She turned. A few minutes later, Catherine entered the room. She was dressed in a pale pink robe, her long hair falling perfectly over her shoulders. She was beautiful. Everyone said so. Catherine knew it too. She sat beside her mother. "Good morning." "Good morning, darling," Eva's stepmother replied. Mary entered moments later. Unlike Catherine, Mary was quieter. She didn't deliberately look for reasons to hurt Eva, but she rarely defended her either. Her eyes briefly met Eva's. "Morning." Eva smiled faintly. "Good morning." Catherine frowned at her plate. "Where are the strawberries?" Eva stopped. "I didn't know you wanted strawberries." "I always have strawberries." "You didn't tell me." Catherine looked at her mother. "See? She doesn't even pay attention to what I like." Eva bit her lip. "I can get them." "You can." Her father finally looked up. "Eva." "Yes?" "After breakfast, I want the garden cleaned." "But I still have the laundry—" His expression changed. Eva immediately stopped. "Yes, Father." Her stepmother smiled faintly. "Good girl." Eva lowered her gaze. She hated those words. Good girl. They never meant kindness. They meant obedience. They meant she had done what she was told. They meant nobody cared whether she was tired. When breakfast ended, everyone left the table. Eva stayed behind. She collected the dishes. Then she washed them. Then she gathered the laundry. Then she scrubbed the kitchen floor. By the time she stepped outside, the sun was already high. She carried two heavy baskets toward the clothesline. Her back ached. Her hands were red from the hot water. She ignored it. She always did. The Blackwood household had once been different. At least, Eva remembered it that way. Her mother had been alive. There had been laughter. Warm meals. A father who had smiled. Then her mother died. Eva had been only nine. Her father remarried two years later. That was when everything changed. At first, her stepmother had been kind. She had called Eva sweetheart. She had brushed her hair. She had promised her father that she would love Eva like her own daughter. But promises had a way of disappearing. Slowly, Eva was given more chores. Then more. Eventually, she stopped being treated like a daughter at all. She became the person who cleaned the house. The person who cooked. The person who served. The person everyone blamed. Eva hung the final sheet on the line. She stepped back and wiped her forehead. For a moment, she looked toward the forest. It stood beyond the fields, vast and mysterious. The trees were thick enough that sunlight barely reached the ground. People in the village avoided it. Especially after sunset. There were stories about what lived beyond those trees. Werewolves. Eva had heard the stories since she was a child. Her father always warned her never to go near the forest. "Those creatures aren't like us," he would say. "If one ever finds you, run." Eva had never seen one. She wasn't even sure they existed. But she had always believed there were things in the world more dangerous than the people living inside her house. A loud crash pulled her attention back. Eva turned. Catherine stood in the doorway. "You!" Eva looked behind herself. "Me?" "Who else?" Catherine walked toward her. "My blue dress." "I washed it." "It has a stain." Eva frowned. "I'll wash it again." "You ruined it." "I didn't." Catherine stepped closer. "You always ruin everything." Eva looked at the dress. The stain was tiny. Barely visible. "I'm sorry." Catherine's eyes narrowed. "You should be." She shoved the dress into Eva's chest. "Fix it." Eva caught it. "Yes." Catherine walked away. Eva watched her disappear into the house. She sighed. Then she returned to work. She didn't notice Catherine watching her from the upstairs window. Catherine had never understood why Eva bothered trying. Why didn't she fight back? Why didn't she leave? Why did she always lower her eyes? The truth was simple. Eva had nowhere to go. This was the only home she had ever known. Even if it didn't feel like home anymore. By late afternoon, clouds gathered over the village. Eva had finished the garden and was carrying firewood toward the house when she heard laughter. Catherine and Mary were standing near the front porch. Their father was with them. Eva stopped. Her father held a small wooden box. He handed it to Catherine. Her face lit up. "For me?" "Of course." Catherine opened it. Inside was a delicate silver necklace. She gasped. "It's beautiful." Her father smiled. "It belonged to your grandmother." Eva looked away. She remembered her own grandmother. She had never received anything. Not even a keepsake from her mother. Eva carried the firewood inside. Nobody noticed. She stacked it beside the stove and returned to the kitchen. A few minutes later, her father entered. "Eva." She turned. "Yes?" "Come here." Eva approached. He held up a broken vase. Her heart sank. It was Catherine's favorite vase. "I found this on the floor in Catherine's room." Eva stared at it. "I didn't break it." Her father's face hardened. "Catherine says you did." "I wasn't in her room." Her stepmother appeared behind him. "Of course she says she wasn't." Eva shook her head. "Mother, I—" "I told you not to call me that." Eva swallowed. "I'm sorry." Her father placed the broken vase on the table. "You have been careless lately." "I haven't." His eyes narrowed. "Are you calling Catherine a liar?" "No." "Then stop arguing." Eva's hands trembled. "But Father, I swear I didn't touch it." Catherine entered the room. Tears were already shining in her eyes. "I told you she would deny it." Eva looked at her. Something about Catherine's expression felt wrong. Too calm. Too deliberate. But Eva had learned long ago that truth didn't matter when Catherine had already chosen a story. Her father sighed. "I am tired of this." He pointed toward the door. "Tonight, you will sleep outside." Eva stared at him. "What?" "You heard me." "But it's going to rain." "Perhaps the cold will teach you responsibility." Eva's mouth opened. No words came. Her stepmother folded her arms. "Maybe tomorrow she'll learn not to touch things that don't belong to her." Eva looked at her father. "Please." His expression remained cold. "Outside." Eva felt something inside her break. She lowered her head. "Yes, Father." She turned away. Catherine watched her leave. There was a small smile on her lips. That evening, Eva sat beneath the small wooden shelter beside the house. The sky had turned black. Thunder rolled in the distance. She wrapped a thin blanket around her body. Rain began falling. At first, only a few drops. Then the storm came. The wind pushed rain beneath the shelter. Eva pulled her knees against her chest. She was freezing. Her teeth began to chatter. Inside the house, warm light shone through the windows. She could see Catherine laughing. Mary sat beside her. Her father ate dinner with his family. Her family. Eva stared through the glass. No one came outside. No one asked if she was cold. No one cared. She wiped a tear from her cheek. "Don't cry." Her voice shook. "Don't give them that." She looked toward the forest. The storm made the trees sway violently. For some reason, she felt drawn to them. Then she heard something. A low sound. Almost like a growl. Eva froze. She looked toward the darkness. Another sound came. Closer this time. A whimper. Eva stood. Her heart began pounding. She should have gone inside. She knew that. But then she heard it again. A wounded cry. Something was out there. Something alive. Eva looked back at the house. Nobody was watching. She picked up the small lantern beside her. Then she stepped into the rain. One step. Then another. She walked toward the forest. She didn't know it yet, but somewhere among those dark trees, a dying Alpha was waiting. And before the sun rose again, fate would mark Eva forever. .