"I told myself she meant nothing. Then why do I feel her in every breath?"
⸻
The first night after the Ceremony, Kael didn't sleep.
The night stretched endlessly before him, each minute crawling by with excruciating slowness. The massive four-poster bed—a symbol of his status, carved from ancient oak by the pack's finest craftsmen—felt like a battleground. His body demanded rest, but his mind refused to surrender to it.
He lay on the edge of his bed, jaw clenched so tightly it ached, staring up at the ceiling of his quarters while the moonlight poured in through the high windows. The pale silver light cast long shadows across the room, touching the ceremonial weapons mounted on the walls, the heirloom furniture passed down through generations of Alphas, the furs and trophies that marked his accomplishments. Everything in this room had been earned through strength, through dominance, through unwavering control.
So why did it all suddenly feel hollow?
His wolf paced beneath his skin—agitated, growling, never still. The sensation was unfamiliar, unsettling. Usually, his wolf was an extension of himself—disciplined, focused, perfectly aligned with his human side. But tonight, it moved with a restless energy he couldn't subdue, like something separate from him, something rebelling.
It had been hours since he rejected her. Since he looked her in the eyes and broke the bond with words sharp enough to cut the Goddess herself.
The memory should have brought satisfaction. He had maintained the purity of the Alpha bloodline. He had upheld the standards expected of the Crescent Fang Pack's leader. He had acted decisively, without hesitation, as an Alpha should.
Instead, the memory burned like acid.
Her eyes. Those wide, shocked eyes. Brown with flecks of gold that caught the ceremonial firelight. The moment his words landed—I reject this match—he had watched something in those eyes crack. Shatter. Die.
It should've ended there.
It always ended there.
Rejection was rare but not unheard of. When an Alpha deemed a mate unsuitable, the bond was severed before it could fully form. Clean. Final. A momentary pain that faded with time, allowing both wolves to move on, to find more appropriate matches. That was how it had always worked.
He'd done it cleanly, publicly. He'd said the words. She accepted the rejection without a fight. There should've been nothing left.
No lingering connection. No residual bond. Nothing to tie him to the omega he had dismissed as unworthy of his lineage, his pack, his blood.
But something was left.
A pull. A thread. A flicker in his chest that refused to die.
It wasn't quite pain, though it ached. It wasn't quite yearning, though it pulled. It was like having a splinter lodged beneath his skin, too deep to extract, constantly reminding him of its presence with every movement, every breath.
Kael rose from the bed in a swift, fluid motion, prowling to the window. The moon hung full and heavy in the sky, watching him with what felt like accusation. The Goddess's eye, witnessing his defiance of her choice.
She chose wrong, he thought stubbornly. An omega. A nobody. No lineage of note. No strength. Nothing to contribute to the pack. Nothing to strengthen the Alpha line.
He had done what any responsible Alpha would do. What his father would have done. What generations of Blackthorns had done when necessary—put the pack's future above personal desire.
Not that there had been desire. He had felt nothing when he looked at her. Nothing but disappointment that the Goddess had made such a mistake.
At least, that's what he told himself as he pressed his forehead against the cool glass, seeking relief from the heat building under his skin.
Kael had rejected dozens of alliances in his life. Wolves who begged for power. Lunas desperate for status. Warriors and witches who offered blood and bone in exchange for his name.
Political matches. Strategic unions. Attempts to climb the hierarchy through his bed rather than through merit. He had seen right through every one of them.
He'd never hesitated.
And he'd never looked back.
His reputation for ruthlessness was well-earned. Once Kael Blackthorn made a decision, it was final. Once he turned away from something—or someone—they ceased to exist for him. His focus was legendary. His resolve, unbreakable.
But tonight, the silence in his room wasn't peaceful. It was suffocating.
The quiet pressed against him from all sides, making his ears ring with its intensity. The absence of sound felt wrong, as if something vital was missing. As if he should be hearing another heartbeat, another breath, harmonizing with his own.
Every time he closed his eyes, her face burned behind them—not as she stood under the moonlight, trembling, but after.
After the bond snapped.
After her wolf whimpered.
After her eyes dimmed like someone had snuffed out the light inside her.
That moment replayed without mercy. The way the ceremonial circle had gone silent. The collective intake of breath from the pack as they witnessed their Alpha reject what the Moon Goddess herself had chosen. The whispers that followed, quickly silenced by his glare.
And her. The omega. Evelyn Hart.
He remembered the way her knees had buckled. How small she looked. How quiet.
There had been no dramatics. No tears. No begging or accusations. She had simply... folded in on herself, as if his words had physically diminished her. One moment standing with unexpected dignity despite the shock, the next swaying as if the ground had tilted beneath her.
It hadn't pleased him.
He thought it would.
Rejection was always unpleasant, always carried a momentary discomfort—like lancing a wound to prevent infection. Necessary pain. But afterward came relief. Clarity. The satisfaction of having maintained standards, of having protected the pack's future.
But it didn't.
Nothing about this felt right. Nothing about this felt finished.
Instead, it made something in his chest tighten. Twist.
A sensation like barbed wire wrapped around his ribs, constricting with each breath. His wolf snarled at it, trying to bite through the invisible bindings, but they only seemed to tighten further.
And now—for reasons he didn't understand—he felt her still.
Felt her burning in his bones.
Not her thoughts. Not her emotions. Just her existence, like a shadow cast across his consciousness. A presence he couldn't banish no matter how fiercely he commanded it to leave.
Kael's fist struck the wall beside the window, the impact sending a shock wave up his arm. The pain was clarifying, momentarily drowning out the strange sensations in his chest. But only momentarily.
As the night deepened toward dawn, the Alpha of Crescent Fang paced his quarters like the predator he was, trapped in a cage of his own making, unable to escape the consequences of a choice he didn't understand.
By morning, he was worse.
The mirror told the story his pride wouldn't allow him to acknowledge. Dark circles beneath bloodshot eyes. Skin pale despite his naturally olive complexion. Hair disheveled from hours of running frustrated hands through it.
He looked... unstable.
The word sent a chill through him. Alphas were never unstable. They were the foundation upon which the pack was built. Solid. Immovable. Reliable.
He splashed cold water on his face, dressed with mechanical precision in clothes that emphasized his authority—dark colors, clean lines, the Alpha's ceremonial pendant resting against his chest. The weight of it felt heavier today, as if the responsibility it represented had doubled overnight.
He'd barely eaten. His Beta, Dax, noticed instantly.
They met in the war room as they did every morning—a chamber deep within the pack house where strategy was discussed, where threats were assessed, where the safety of Crescent Fang territory was ensured through careful planning and swift action.
Maps spread across the massive oak table, marking the boundaries of their territory, the known locations of rival packs, the patrol routes that kept their people safe. This was where Kael excelled—in planning, in strategy, in the calculated use of power to protect what was his.
"Your wolf's off," Dax said, pouring two glasses of cold water in the war room. "You didn't sleep."
It wasn't a question. Dax had been his Beta for five years, his friend for longer. They had fought together, bled together, built the pack's strength side by side. There was no one Kael trusted more, no one who knew him better.
Which made the concern in Dax's eyes all the more grating.
Kael didn't look up from the map on the table. "I don't need to sleep."
A lie they both recognized. Wolves needed rest like any creature. Alphas, with the constant drain of maintaining pack bonds and territory awareness, needed it even more.
Dax raised a brow. "You rejected your mate last night. That tends to cause a ripple."
A ripple. Such a mild word for the tsunami raging through Kael's system. The bond shouldn't still exist. There should be nothing left to cause ripples.
Kael's jaw tensed. "She was no one."
Another lie. The Moon Goddess didn't choose "no one" as the mate for an Alpha. But admitting that meant admitting he might have made a mistake—something Kael Blackthorn never did.
"She was chosen," Dax said, carefully. "Whether we like it or not."
The truth hung between them, undeniable despite Kael's rejection. The Goddess had selected Evelyn. Had tied her fate to his in ways that transcended pack hierarchy, transcended his personal preferences.
Kael looked up now, eyes hard. "The Moon Goddess doesn't always get it right."
Blasphemy, by some standards. The kind of statement that would send ripples of shock through the pack if spoken publicly. But here, in the privacy of the war room, with only his most trusted Beta as witness, Kael allowed himself the heresy.
Silence.
Dax didn't challenge him. Not aloud.
Years of friendship warred with the natural hierarchy that placed Kael above questioning. Dax's scent shifted subtly—notes of concern mingling with resignation, with caution.
But Kael could smell the hesitation. The worry. His wolf snarled in response, low and sharp, as if warning even his closest ally to back off.
The reaction was disproportionate, excessive—and they both knew it. Kael had never needed to assert dominance with Dax before. Their hierarchy was understood, respected without need for displays of power. But something in him was slipping, losing the carefully maintained balance between authority and restraint.
He had no interest in talking about her.
Not the way her voice had cracked.
Not the way the wind had curled around her like it mourned too.
Not the way his chest still f**king ached.
Even thinking about her made the sensation worse—the invisible barbed wire tightening, his wolf pacing faster, more agitated. As if mentioning her, acknowledging what had happened, somehow strengthened whatever aberrant connection remained between them.
He slammed a hand down on the map. "We move the border patrols to the west ridge. I want new scouts by nightfall."
Work. Focus. Control. The pillars that had always steadied him, always provided clarity when emotions threatened to cloud judgment. He would bury himself in the business of running the pack, in protecting their territory, in maintaining their strength.
Dax nodded and left him alone.
But the moment the door closed, Kael doubled over the table, gripping the edges like a man trying to hold onto something solid.
The pain came in waves now—no longer just a persistent ache but surges of something sharper, deeper. His wolf howled within him, the sound reverberating through his mind with such force it nearly brought him to his knees.
What's happening to me?
His wolf howled once—not a command, not a warning. Just pain.
Raw, bone-deep pain.
It wasn't simply the discomfort of rejection. He had rejected potential mates before. There had been momentary discomfort, quickly replaced by certainty, by the knowledge that he had made the right choice for the pack.
This was different. This was his wolf turning on him, fighting him, as if the two halves of his nature were suddenly at war.
And beneath it all, that thread. That connection. That awareness of her that should have been severed but instead pulsed with a life of its own.
Something was very wrong. And for the first time in his life as Alpha, Kael Blackthorn had no idea how to fix it.