Elara Veyne

"Ahh!" She writhed in a haze of moans, her body trembling with conflicting sensations. She loathed this man, yet every fiber of her being reacted to his touch. As his hands began to roam along her waist, she sucked in a sharp breath—the sudden pull of her back zipper sent a shiver down her spine. The metal slider halted at the small of her back, and as it opened, her upper back and waist were exposed, baring her skin to the cool air. "D-Don’t—mmph!" Her protest was smothered by the pillow as his fingers caressed her bare spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. With a deep, angry growl, he whispered harshly in her ear, "I'll make you forget every touch, every kiss, every thing about him. From now on, when you're with another man, you'll only see me."

Elara Vance was a withdrawn omega, often overlooked in the Silver Moon Pack for her quiet demeanor and unassuming appearance. But beneath her thick glasses lay a hidden crush on Rhys Knight, the pack's future Alpha and a notorious campus playboy. Rhys scoffed at mate bonds, treating relationships as disposable—until Elara's eighteenth birthday, when he publicly rejected her, turning her into the butt of every joke.

Now, Elara returns transformed—glasses discarded, her hair styled sleek and confident—and Rhys can't take his eyes off her. What if her blood holds a sacred heritage chosen by the Moon Goddess? What if the "humiliation" was part of a larger scheme? And when Rhys, the alpha who once dismissed her, kneels before her new love interest, Liam Thorne, begging for a second chance, who will claim victory in this battle of pride and passion?

Rejected by My Alpha Mate

"Rhys, don't..." My voice cracked as I pleaded, trying to twist away from him. The vulnerability of standing with my back exposed was almost unbearable. "You've seen enough."


"No," he said firmly, his hands still gentle yet unyielding on my shoulders. "Turn around, Elara. Face the wall."


I swallowed hard, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. The shame of showing him my scars warred with a strange relief that someone else would finally see—would know—the full extent of what I'd been enduring alone.


Reluctantly, I turned to face the wall. My breath came in short, panicked bursts as I felt him move closer.


"Put your hands on the wall," he instructed, his voice low and controlled.


When I hesitated, his hands slid down my arms, taking my wrists and guiding them to the cool surface above my head. He pinned them there gently with one hand, his other hand finding the zipper of my dress.


"Please..." I whispered, not even sure what I was asking for.


Scars of the Past, An Alpha's Vow