His Unwanted Mate, Her Forbidden Magic

His Unwanted Mate, Her Forbidden Magic

Luo Ye

5.0
Comment(s)
5.8K
View
10
Chapters

For five years, I was the Alpha's mate, but my husband, Mark, saved all his affection for another woman. At a grand pack gala, our fragile charade came crashing down when a massive crystal chandelier tore from the ceiling, plummeting towards the three of us. In that horrifying second, Mark made his choice. He violently shoved me aside-not to safety, but directly into the path of splintering debris. He used his own body as a shield, but only for Isabella, his mistress. I woke up in the infirmary, my body shattered and my connection to my wolf spirit crippled for life. When he finally visited, it wasn't with remorse. He stood over my bed and performed the ultimate betrayal: the rite of severance, brutally tearing our sacred bond in two. The spiritual agony was so profound it stopped my heart. As the monitor flatlined, the pack doctor burst in, his eyes wide with horror as he looked from my lifeless body to Mark's cold face. "What did you do?" he screamed. "By the Moon Goddess, she's carrying your heir."

His Unwanted Mate, Her Forbidden Magic Chapter 1

For five years, I was the Alpha's mate, but my husband, Mark, saved all his affection for another woman.

At a grand pack gala, our fragile charade came crashing down when a massive crystal chandelier tore from the ceiling, plummeting towards the three of us.

In that horrifying second, Mark made his choice.

He violently shoved me aside-not to safety, but directly into the path of splintering debris. He used his own body as a shield, but only for Isabella, his mistress.

I woke up in the infirmary, my body shattered and my connection to my wolf spirit crippled for life. When he finally visited, it wasn't with remorse. He stood over my bed and performed the ultimate betrayal: the rite of severance, brutally tearing our sacred bond in two.

The spiritual agony was so profound it stopped my heart.

As the monitor flatlined, the pack doctor burst in, his eyes wide with horror as he looked from my lifeless body to Mark's cold face.

"What did you do?" he screamed. "By the Moon Goddess, she's carrying your heir."

Chapter 1

The scent of rosemary and slow-roasted lamb should have filled our small home with warmth, a fragrant testament to five years of a bond I once believed was sacred. Instead, the air was thin and cold, each aroma swallowed by the silence of waiting. I smoothed down the front of my simple linen dress for the tenth time, the fabric soft but familiar against my skin, a stark contrast to the nervous energy thrumming just beneath the surface. My fingers trembled as I adjusted the single white rose in the slender vase at the center of the table. A perfect, solitary bloom. Just like me.

*He'll see this,* I told myself, a desperate, familiar prayer. *He'll see the effort, the love, and he'll remember.*

But the part of me that had grown weary and wise over the last year knew better. It was a foolish hope, a ghost I kept trying to embrace.

The grandfather clock in the hall chimed nine, then ten. The lamb grew cold. The gravy congealed. The flame of the single candle I'd lit flickered, casting long, dancing shadows that felt like specters of my own loneliness. My wolf, usually a comforting presence curled in the back of my mind, was restless and whining, sensing my distress. She felt the ache of our mate's absence as keenly as I did.

When the front door finally opened at half-past eleven, the sound was jarring, a violation of the quiet vigil I'd been keeping. Mark, Alpha of the Veridia pack, my mate, stepped inside, and the fragile hope I'd clung to shattered like spun glass.

He didn't look at the table. He didn't look at me. His eyes, the color of a stormy sea, were distant. His powerful shoulders were tense beneath his expensive leather jacket, and his jaw was a hard, unforgiving line. But it was the scent that struck me first, a physical blow that stole the air from my lungs. It clung to him like a second skin: rain-washed earth, wild ambition, and the cloying, sweet perfume of Isabella.

My heart, a foolish, stubborn organ, clenched in my chest. *Not again. Please, not tonight.*

"You're late," I said, my voice smaller than I intended, a mere whisper against the roaring disappointment in my ears.

He finally looked at me, his gaze sweeping over the carefully set table, the uneaten meal, the single, hopeful rose. There was no warmth, no apology. Only a profound, bone-deep weariness, as if my very existence was a weight he was forced to carry.

"I was busy, Clara." His voice was rough, impatient. He shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto a chair with a carelessness that spoke volumes. The scent of Isabella intensified, filling our home, tainting everything.

"I made your favorite," I tried again, gesturing to the sad, cooling dinner. "For our anniversary."

A muscle feathered in his jaw. He ran a hand through his dark hair, a gesture of pure exasperation. "Your sentimentality is a tiresome obligation, Clara. Don't expect me to perform for you."

Each word was a carefully aimed dart, and they all found their mark. *Tiresome. Obligation. Perform.* He saw my love not as a gift, but as a chore. The meal I had spent hours preparing, the memories I had been cherishing all day-they were nothing more than a demand on his time, an annoyance in the grander scheme of his life as Alpha. My inner wolf whimpered, a low, wounded sound that echoed the pain in my own soul. I pressed my lips together, refusing to let the tears fall. Crying would only irritate him further.

He walked past me into the kitchen, the floorboards groaning under his weight. I heard the refrigerator open, the clink of a bottle. He returned with a beer, twisting the cap off with a flick of his wrist. He took a long swallow, his throat working, his eyes fixed on some point over my shoulder, as if I were already fading into the wallpaper.

"The pack council meeting ran long," he said, a perfunctory, hollow excuse. I knew it was a lie. I could smell the truth all over him.

*Just ask,* a small, self-destructive part of me urged. *Force the confrontation. End this agony.* But I couldn't. I was a coward, terrified of hearing the words that would make this nightmare real. So I just stood there, a ghost at my own feast, while my mate drank his beer and smelled of another woman.

***

Two nights later, the wound was still raw, a festering thing in my chest. We were at a formal pack dinner, an event Mark insisted I attend for the sake of appearances. The grand hall of the pack house buzzed with conversation and laughter, the air thick with the smell of wine and roasted meats. Silverware scraped against porcelain, a constant, irritating chorus. I sat beside Mark at the head table, a perfect portrait of the Alpha's mate, dressed in a deep blue gown that Sophie, my best friend, had insisted I wear.

"You look beautiful," she had told me, her eyes full of a sympathy I couldn't bear. "Let him see what he's ignoring."

But Mark wasn't looking. His attention, as it so often was, was fixed down the table, on Isabella. She was holding court, her laughter a bright, tinkling sound that grated on my nerves. She was beautiful, I couldn't deny it-all sleek, dark hair and flashing eyes, her wolf a vibrant, aggressive presence that radiated confidence. Everything I wasn't.

A sharp, familiar pain lanced through my lower back, a vicious echo of an old injury from a border skirmish years ago. It was a wound that never truly healed, flaring up with stress or cold. Tonight, it was excruciating. I gasped, my hand flying to the spot, my knuckles pressing hard into the ache. I tried to breathe through it, to keep my face a placid mask, but a wave of dizziness washed over me. The glittering lights of the chandeliers overhead swam in my vision.

I leaned slightly towards Mark, my voice a strained whisper. "Mark, the pain... it's bad tonight."

He didn't turn his head. He didn't even flinch. His focus was entirely on Isabella, who had just dramatically recounted some trivial social slight, her lower lip trembling in a perfect imitation of distress.

"That woman has no right to speak to me that way," Isabella declared, her voice carrying across the table. "It's humiliating!"

Instantly, Mark's entire posture changed. He leaned forward, his expression softening with a concern I hadn't seen directed at me in years. His voice was a low, soothing rumble. "Don't let her get to you, Isa. She's irrelevant. You're above all that."

He completely and utterly ignored me. My physical agony was invisible to him, less important than Isabella's manufactured emotional drama. It was a public declaration, a clear and brutal prioritization. I was secondary. I was nothing. The pain in my back was a dull fire, but the pain in my heart was a raging inferno. I felt the eyes of the other pack members on us, the pity, the speculation. The humiliation was a physical thing, a hot flush that crawled up my neck.

I couldn't stay. I couldn't sit there and be a prop in his life for one more second. Pushing my chair back with a quiet scrape that went unnoticed by my mate, I stood on trembling legs. I walked out of the grand hall, my head held high, each step a battle against the pain in my back and the crushing weight of my own insignificance.

***

My workshop was my only sanctuary. Tucked away in a small, converted shed behind our house, it smelled of dried herbs, ozone, and old parchment. This was where I was more than just Mark's neglected mate. Here, I was myself. Jars of shimmering dusts and rare crystals lined the shelves. Bunches of herbs hung from the rafters, casting fragrant shadows in the moonlight that streamed through the single window.

My magic was a rare thing in our pack. While most of our kind relied on brute strength and pack politics, I had an affinity for the elements, a quiet, difficult magic that required patience and focus. It was my solace.

I sank onto my stool, the familiar wood a comfort. Ignoring the throbbing in my back, I held my hands over a shallow copper bowl. I closed my eyes, shutting out the image of Mark comforting Isabella. I focused on the cold, empty space inside me, the place where his affection used to be. I drew on that coldness, that ache, and channeled it.

Slowly, a frost began to form on the rim of the bowl. It spread in delicate, intricate patterns, a beautiful thing born from my pain. A single, perfect snowflake materialized in the air above my palms, spinning gently before melting into nothing. It was a small act of creation, a reminder that I could still make something beautiful, even when my world was falling apart.

A soft chime broke my concentration. It came from a small, enchanted tablet on my workbench, a device used for secure, long-distance communication. I rarely received messages. My fingers, still tingling with cold energy, tapped the screen.

The message was encrypted, bearing the sigil of the Argent Guild-a prestigious, neutral organization that oversaw all magical disciplines. My breath caught in my throat. With trembling hands, I decoded the message.

The words glowed on the screen, stark and unbelievable in the dim light of my workshop.

*Clara of the Veridia Pack,*

*Your unique elemental signature has been noted by the council. You are hereby formally invited to compete in the Celestial Conclave, to be held on the full moon one month from this day. Your presence is requested at the pre-conclave gala. Further details to follow.*

The Celestial Conclave. A once-in-a-decade tournament of magic, drawing the most powerful practitioners from every territory. It was a legend, a dream. A place where skill was the only thing that mattered, not status, not pack, not who your mate was.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, hopeful rhythm. This was more than an invitation. It was an escape. A chance. A life that was entirely my own, away from the suffocating pity and the constant, grinding pain of being unwanted.

For the first time in a very long time, a genuine, unforced smile touched my lips. It was a small, fragile thing, but it was real. It was a glimmer of hope in the suffocating darkness.

Continue Reading

Other books by Luo Ye

More
The Placeholder Bride's Secret Billionaire Revenge

The Placeholder Bride's Secret Billionaire Revenge

Modern

5.0

For two years, I was the invisible force behind tech billionaire Kieran Douglas, convinced that our "private" romance was his way of protecting us from the tabloid spotlight. I managed his mergers, warmed his bed, and waited for a future that didn't exist. The illusion shattered at 6:00 AM when a Page Six alert debuted Kieran’s "real" romance with socialite Aspen Schneider. Before I could even process the betrayal, Kieran sent me a cold, professional text: "Order flowers for Aspen. Pink peonies. Her favorite." When I tried to walk away, my own mother called me a disgrace and threatened to lock my inheritance forever unless I married a sixty-year-old businessman to save her failing estate. At a high-society gala that same night, Aspen intentionally crushed my burned hand in front of the cameras, while Kieran stood by and dismissed me as a "mediocre assistant" who had overstayed her welcome. I stood in the cold New York rain, drenched in champagne and humiliation, realizing that every sacrifice I made for Kieran was a joke. I was a ghost in a penthouse that was never mine, discarded the moment his "soulmate" returned. To the world, I was just a placeholder whose time had run out. But Kieran forgot one thing: my father’s multi-million dollar trust fund unlocks the moment I legally marry. I didn't need love; I needed a signature and a shield. I walked into a discreet law firm and signed a marriage contract with a man I believed was the city’s most notorious, scandal-ridden playboy. I thought I was marrying a degenerate "beard" to buy my freedom and secure my revenge. I didn't realize the man who signed that paper wasn't a playboy at all, but Gaston Collins—the most powerful and dangerous man on Wall Street—and he had no intention of letting our fake marriage stay fake.

The Surgeon’s Scars: Running From My Past

The Surgeon’s Scars: Running From My Past

Modern

5.0

I returned to the Hamptons after six years, believing I had finally outrun the ghosts of my past. As a surgeon, I had spent years stitching others back together, yet I remained a collection of jagged shards held together by secrets. I thought I could survive one family dinner, but the moment I stepped inside, the air turned to lead. Then I saw him. Damon Hansen stood in the archway, looking more lethal than the man I’d once loved. When our eyes met, he shattered the crystal glass in his hand with such raw force that blood stained the pristine rug. It was a silent, violent declaration of the rage he’d been nursing since the night I vanished without a word. The dinner was a battlefield. Damon sat across from me with his new girlfriend, Campbell, draped possessively over his arm. He used every word like a blade, mocking my "escape" while secretly ordering the only food I could stomach. He didn't know that I hadn't just run away six years ago; I had crawled away to survive a miscarriage that nearly took my life, a trauma that still made my hands shake at the sight of a child. I fled to Seattle for a clean slate, only to find Damon waiting in the rain. He had traded his business empire for a firefighter’s uniform, joining the city's most dangerous station just to force his way back into my world. When he ended up on my trauma table, soot-stained and broken, he gripped my wrist with a heat that almost broke my resolve. "I'm yours, Adria. Do whatever you have to do." I almost let my walls crumble until the hospital doors swung open. Campbell burst out, throwing herself into his arms and claiming him in front of the entire staff. I didn't stay to hear his excuses. I turned my back on the man who had followed me across the country just to break my heart again, finally realizing that some wounds are too deep for even a surgeon to heal.

His Unwanted Mate is a Secret White Wolf

His Unwanted Mate is a Secret White Wolf

Werewolf

5.0

For ten years, I lived as a powerless Omega, my only joy being my brilliant daughter, Michelle. I had bound my true nature—a powerful White Wolf—to protect her from my family's enemies. When she won a coveted internship at the International Council, I thought our quiet life was finally secure. But a week later, I found her crumpled in a corner of her school, bound by silver ropes that burned her skin. Her dreams were being torn apart by Lacey, the daughter of our pack's Alpha. "This little nobody thought she could steal my spot," Lacey sneered. "The internship my Alpha father secured for me." My world shattered. The Alpha was my husband, Vincent—my fated mate of ten years. When I reached out to him through our sacred bond, he dismissed my panic with sweet lies, even as I watched Lacey and her friends torture our child for sport. The ultimate betrayal came when his mistress, Ivy, flashed the Alpha's Mate card—"my" card, which he had given to her. He arrived only to deny knowing me in front of everyone, a sin that shattered our bond. He called me a trespasser and ordered his warriors to punish me. As they forced me to my knees and beat me with silver, he just stood and watched. But they all underestimated me. They didn't know about the amulet I'd given my daughter, or the ancient power it held. As the final blow landed, I whispered a name into a hidden channel, calling in an oath my family made generations ago. Seconds later, military helicopters swarmed the building, and the High Council Guard stormed the room, bowing to me. "Luna Harper," their commander announced, "The High Council Guard is at your command."

The Stuttering Heiress's Revenge

The Stuttering Heiress's Revenge

Billionaires

5.0

My name is Jennifer Smith, and for eight years, I believed I was the luckiest woman alive. I was marrying Ethan, the charismatic musician who' d promised to be my rock, the one who saw past my severe stutter. At our rehearsal dinner, my parents gifted us millions: a trust fund and a historic Beacon Hill brownstone. Then, Ethan' s mother, loud and sharp, mocked my stutter, questioning my ability to speak my own vows. Before I could even react, Ethan, my supposed protector, brazenly addressed my parents. He claimed that due to my "condition," managing such assets would be overwhelming. He suggested all wedding gifts be put under his name, for my own protection and to prevent anxiety that triggered my stutter. My father roared, slamming the table, refusing to make his daughter a business deal. The stress and betrayal were too much; he clutched his chest, gasped, and collapsed onto the floor. My father suffered a heart attack. While he fought for his life in the hospital, Ethan' s mother posted a viral video, painting us as cruel rich people who gave my father a heart attack for refusing to give them money. This malicious lie, going viral as #JusticeForEthan, reached my father's tablet. He saw it, and his heart gave out. In that moment, I knew. They killed him. Grief consumed me, but underneath it, a cold, hard fury solidified. I saw Ethan in the hospital, smirking, already plotting his next move to exploit my father' s death for gain. But he didn't know the game had just fundamentally changed. My father' s funeral would be the beginning of my war.

You'll also like

Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father

Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father

Madel Cerda
4.7

I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector. That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world. The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor. The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist. Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch—a titan of industry and my best friend’s father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared. "Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb. Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen. "Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back." I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe.

Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable

Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable

Tao Yaoyao
5.0

My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out. I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm: "In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling." Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped. When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself." Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son. The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne. I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie." I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book
His Unwanted Mate, Her Forbidden Magic His Unwanted Mate, Her Forbidden Magic Luo Ye Werewolf
“For five years, I was the Alpha's mate, but my husband, Mark, saved all his affection for another woman. At a grand pack gala, our fragile charade came crashing down when a massive crystal chandelier tore from the ceiling, plummeting towards the three of us. In that horrifying second, Mark made his choice. He violently shoved me aside-not to safety, but directly into the path of splintering debris. He used his own body as a shield, but only for Isabella, his mistress. I woke up in the infirmary, my body shattered and my connection to my wolf spirit crippled for life. When he finally visited, it wasn't with remorse. He stood over my bed and performed the ultimate betrayal: the rite of severance, brutally tearing our sacred bond in two. The spiritual agony was so profound it stopped my heart. As the monitor flatlined, the pack doctor burst in, his eyes wide with horror as he looked from my lifeless body to Mark's cold face. "What did you do?" he screamed. "By the Moon Goddess, she's carrying your heir."”
1

Chapter 1

04/09/2025

2

Chapter 2

04/09/2025

3

Chapter 3

04/09/2025

4

Chapter 4

04/09/2025

5

Chapter 5

04/09/2025

6

Chapter 6

04/09/2025

7

Chapter 7

04/09/2025

8

Chapter 8

04/09/2025

9

Chapter 9

04/09/2025

10

Chapter 10

04/09/2025