Loved By The Lycan After Rejection

Her palms made a painful impact on Kora's pale face.

The blow turned her face aside. A sharp sting spread across her cheek, and the goblet tray clattered against her hip. One glass tipped, spilling water over her gray dress. She bit her lip to stop a cry, tasting blood almost at once.

Luna Marguerite stood over her, her emerald gown shining beneath the corridor lamps. Her eyes narrowed with disgust.

"Must you make noise over everything?" she snapped. "The Grand Mating Ball is about to begin, and you are still stumbling around like a clumsy human."

"I'm sorry, Luna." Kora lowered her eyes and steadied the tray with shaking hands. "It won't happen again."

"It had better not."

Marguerite smoothed the front of her gown, as if the sight of Kora had left a stain on it. Then she swept away, leaving behind the sweet smell of roses.

Kora pressed her fingers to her cheek. It hurt, but the surprise hurt more. Luna Marguerite had never struck her before. Why tonight? Why now, when Kora had spent the entire day making sure everything was ready?

She swallowed the sting and picked up the fallen glass.

Life in Dusk Moon Pack was not always cruel in ways people could see. Kora was not starved or locked in a cellar. She had a bed, meals, and work. She was simply overlooked, as if she were another piece of furniture in the palace. She cleaned rooms, carried trays, and answered every order without complaint.

When the former Alpha and his Luna had still been alive, they had treated her kindly. Their daughter, Vivienne, had once seemed kind too. But after her parents died, something changed. Vivienne's smile grew sweeter, her words sharper, and Kora became the person she enjoyed reminding of her place.

That morning, Vivienne had appeared at Kora's door before sunrise, already dressed in a pale gold robe.

"Up, Kora," she had said, smiling as if she were offering a gift. "Today must be perfect. Help the other maids, polish every glass, and make sure no guest has a reason to complain."

Kora had sat up at once. "Of course, Princess."

Vivienne tilted her head. "And don't embarrass me. You know how people talk about wolfless servants."

The smile stayed on her face, but the warning in her voice did not.

"I won't," Kora promised.

Vivienne was the golden princess of the pack. Kora was only her handmaid. Kora had learned not to expect more.

Now, with the last of the preparations done, she carried the tray toward the ballroom.

The grand doors stood open. Music drifted into the corridor while the ballroom glittered with crystal chandeliers and polished marble. Alphas in dark velvet suits stood in groups, their voices low and confident. Lunas wore gowns in ruby, sapphire, and emerald. Unmated daughters laughed behind their gloved hands, watching every powerful man who crossed the room.

Kora moved among them with a tray of champagne flutes, careful not to brush anyone's sleeve. She had learned to walk quietly and keep her gaze lowered. Being unnoticed was safer.

She was eighteen and had never shifted. Not once. No wolf had answered inside her, no claws had broken through her fingers, and no howl had ever risen in her throat. Most wolves assumed she was human. Some said it to insult her. Others said it as if they were stating the weather.

There were days when Kora almost believed them.

Now the air changed.

A scent crashed over her so suddenly that she stopped breathing. Pine. Storm. Cedar smoke. Lightning striking raw earth. It was too strong, too deep, and it seemed to reach into her chest and pull at something she had never known was there.

Kora blinked. The ballroom blurred around the edges.

Her hearing sharpened. She could hear the scrape of shoes on marble, the whisper of silk, the beat of music from the musicians' corner. She could even hear someone's heart pounding nearby.

What was happening to her?

Her hand jerked. A flute tipped off the tray, then another. Champagne spilled over her wrist and down the front of her dress. The tray slipped from her fingers.

It hit the floor.

Crystal shattered across the marble with a crash.

The music stopped. Conversations died. Silence spread through the ballroom for a moment, until Kora could hear her frightened breathing.

Every head turned toward her.

Across the room, a man on the dais looked straight at her. His silver eyes caught hers and held them.

Killian Ravenscroft, Alpha King of the Northern Realm.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, with black hair swept back from a hard face and a jaw that looked carved from stone. Midnight silk covered his powerful frame. Even from across the ballroom, his presence pressed against Kora's skin, making it difficult to draw a full breath.

Then heat burst through her body.

Something golden pulled tight between her ribs. It was not a sound, yet a word echoed inside her mind, clear and impossible.

Mate.

Her knees weakened. She caught the edge of a nearby table before she could fall. Her face burned, her breath came in short gasps, and a small whimper escaped her before she could stop it.

On the dais, Killian went rigid.

His silver eyes darkened until his pupils swallowed the light. His hands curled into fists, claws scraping his palms. Inside him, his wolf slammed against his control, roaring one word again and again.

Mine.

Kora could not look away. She had never felt anything like this. She had no wolf, no experience with a mate bond, and no idea why the king was staring at her as though the whole room had vanished.

Killian stepped down from the dais.

The crowd parted at once. No one dared stand in his way.

But before he reached her, Vivienne glided forward in a pale gold gown. Her smile was bright, her posture perfect. She linked her arm through his as if she had every right to touch him.

"Your Majesty," she said in a honey-sweet voice, "there's no need to concern yourself. It's only Kora, my handmaid. She's here to serve."

For one second, her smile slipped. Her eyes flashed cold and triumphant, as if Kora's very existence had offended her.

Killian did not look at her. He acted as though she had not spoken.

He stopped in front of Kora. His gaze moved slowly over her face, her stained dress, and her trembling hands. She hated that her body still reacted to him. The golden pull inside her tightened whenever he came closer.

His lip curled.

"A wolfless handmaid dares meet my eyes?"

The words struck harder than Marguerite's slap. Kora's mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Killian moved closer. His scent surrounded her, overwhelming every other smell in the room. A vein pulsed in his neck. His fists trembled at his sides, as if he were fighting something inside himself.

The golden cord between them pulsed once.

Then it began to fray.

"This must be a joke," he said, raising his voice so every guest could hear. "I will not have a wolfless nobody rule beside me."

Whispers broke out around them. A woman covered her mouth. Someone laughed. Kora heard the word wolfless repeated from one guest to another, each time with more contempt.

She stared at Killian, waiting for him to explain. Waiting for him to say there had been some mistake.

Instead, he lifted his chin.

"I, Killian Ravenscroft, Alpha King of the Northern Realm, reject you, Kora, as my fated mate and any claim to my Luna."

The golden cord snapped.

Pain ripped through Kora's chest. She doubled over, clutching at herself as if she could hold the pieces together. Her breath vanished. A hot line slid from her nose, and blood dripped onto the broken crystal at her feet.

She could hear people gasping, laughing, whispering. She could hear her heart breaking beneath it all.

Vivienne leaned toward Killian and whispered something into his ear. Kora could not hear the words, but she saw his mouth twitch into something close to a smirk.

That was all she could bear.

She turned and ran.

Her bare feet slapped against the marble as she fled through the ballroom. No one reached for her. No one called after her. She passed the side doors and stumbled onto the stone path beyond, where the cold night air struck her wet face.

Behind her, the music began again. Laughter rose to cover the scandal, and the grand ball continued as if she had never been there.

Kora kept running into the gardens, one hand pressed to her aching chest.

But even as she fled, she could feel Killian's gaze burning into her back.

It was hot. Furious. Unfinished.

He had rejected her before the entire realm. He had cut their bond and called her worthless.

So why did he look as if he was not done with her yet?