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Elara Vance was a withdrawn omega, often overlooked in the Silver Moon Pack for her quiet demeanor and unassuming appearance.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

I stood frozen in shock, my eyes fixed on Rhys as anger coursed through my veins. The door I'd just entered through was now my only escape route, but he was blocking it with his imposing frame.


"Get out of my way," I demanded, trying to mask the tremor in my voice.


When I got a closer look at him, my anger momentarily faltered. Rhys looked... broken. His usually perfect appearance was disheveled, dark circles shadowing his bloodshot eyes. His knuckles were raw and bloody, as if he'd been punching walls. This wasn't the confident, arrogant Alpha I remembered.


"Please, Elara. Just five minutes," he pleaded, his voice hoarse.


"I have nothing to say to you," I replied coldly, stepping sideways to reach for the door handle.


Rhys moved quickly, blocking my path again. "But I have things to say to you."


"I don't care!" I snapped, feeling my pulse quicken. Being this close to him after four years was like standing too near a fire—dangerous and all-consuming.


An Unexpected Confession, A Desperate Plea