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Elara Vance was a withdrawn omega, often overlooked in the Silver Moon Pack for her quiet demeanor and unassuming appearance.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

Every memory hit me like a physical blow. The disgust on Elara's face. The shock in her eyes when I accused her. The weakness in her voice as she tried to explain. All the signs I'd willfully ignored.


"What have I done?" I whispered again, my bloodied knuckles throbbing with each heartbeat.


The memory of that night burned through my mind with excruciating clarity. I'd tracked Elara's scent to Rowan's dorm, convinced she was studying late. When I opened that door and saw her on his bed, shirt partially unbuttoned, my world had imploded.


But now, replaying the scene with new eyes, I saw everything I'd missed. Her glassy stare. The unnatural slackness in her limbs. The slurred way she'd said my name.


Words I'd dismissed as lies. As acting.


I slammed my fist into the wall again, welcoming the fresh burst of pain. "I left her there," I growled through clenched teeth. "I left her drugged and helpless with that monster."


The Weight of a Misjudged Past