Alpha’s Thrice Rejectedd Mate By Ida Rowe

Chapter 14 

“Have another drink, Hale. It won’t kill you, Alpha Marcus James of the Nightwind Pack said, shaking a lock of gray–white hair out of his eyes as he refilled my goblet of wine. 

I looked at it, trying not to grimace. Wine was not my drink, and I’d just finished my second glass, sipping as slowly as possible. 

Apparently, I was going to have to find a way to make this one last even longer. 

“The Shadowmoon Park is nipping at our borders again,” I said, twirling the stem of my goblet slowly between my fingers. “If this keeps up, there will be another war. Can I count on you?” 

“Of course, my boy. Always. They’re nipping at more than just your borders, Marcus replied. “It’s been fifteen years now they’ve been posturing and trying to be a bit too big for their britches. I’d love to knock them down a peg or two 

I nodded. “I’m sending out a spearhead team to deal with our borders. I imagine there will be some sort of skirmish, but my warriors are well–trained and-” 

“Now, now. Don’t be lying to yourself, young man,” Marcus interrupted me, popping a grape in his mouth. “You can’t go telling yourself you didn’t know.” 

“Know what?” I stopped twirling my glass. 

“Hale, they’re not coming back. No one ever has,” Marcus said flatly, popping a few more grapes into his mouth. “I’ve had to, send a few spearhead teams myself, but I do so with the knowledge I’m sending my packmates to their death. As an Alpha, you have to bear that burden.” 

“No one’s… come back?” I stared across the lavishly set table at Marcus. 

Marcus shook his head. “Not in the last five years or so. Shadowmoon’s grown in strength. I swear they have the devil’s backing. I’ve had to send a few spearhead teams in that time–not one warrior has come back to tell the tale. Oh, they’ve beaten back the interlopers, but the only reason I know what’s happened at all is the villagers.” 

“I haven’t…” My stomach dropped. It hadn’t even occurred to me that no one would return. As Alpha, I knew it was my burden that I’d be sending some to their death, but all? 

“You haven’t sent out a spearhead team in the last five years. That’s lucky. Means they weren’t foolish enough to bother your borders.” Marcus said. He leaned forward. “Guess it’s my place to tell you the bad news, then. You’re about to lose a lot of warriors. Hope you’ve sent some good ones, but also kept some of the best back.” 

I sat back in my chair, my heart growing heavy. “I sent a mix, I guess. I don’t want to leave us poorly defended, after all, but I do want to give Lyle a show of strength.” 

Marcus snorted. “If only Lyle Shadowmoon was the problem. He’s not nearly as much trouble as the Luna Regent, Deborah Shadowmoon. She’s the one who’s really in charge.” 

“She is?” I said, trying not to sound like the idiot I felt like. Clearly, I’d become out of touch with the inner workings and machinations of the Shadowmoon Pack. “Five years ago, our last spearhead team came back- 

Marcus raised his eyebrows. “All of them? Must have been too shocked at the whole mate thing, then, to put up a decent fight.” 

“Mate… thing?” I echoed. 

“Hale, you’ve really got to get yourself up to date. Sure, five years ago, I hear tell, Lyle Shadowmoon found his mate in Jessop Town,” Marcus said. 

“Oh. So he’s been mated five years?” I asked. 

Marcus shook his head. “Not a day. He rejected her. Couldn’t tell you if he got his fill of her first or just rejected her right off the bat, but she’d already been rejected once. Had the scar.” 

The memory of the ball and seeing Kora with two scars on her face niggled my brain. I swallowed. “So she would have had two scars on her face, then.” 

“Indeed.” Marcus cocked his head at me. Think it was your filly?” 

My eyes widened. “Why would you think.. how did you?” 

“Word travels fast, Hale. Faster when you travel with servants. Servants talk to each other. My servants then talk to me. I heard all about your little rejection–turned–acceptance ceremony. Three strikes, one of them yours? That would have put two scars on her face before you rejected her. Doesn’t take much to put two and two together,” Marcus said. 

They… were sent to Jessop Town…” I wheezed, gripping the edge of the table to control my roiling emotions. I was jealous, betrayed, and especially–angry, though I didn’t know where it came from. 

Jealous of the ashole who’d had, even briefly, my Kora before me. Betrayed by the Moon Goddess for having chosen him for Kora in the first place. And angry that Kora had been hurt and rejected by THAT man 

Of all the shifters in all the world, Lyle Shadowmoon was the most reprehensible, irredeemable dung pile of a person I could think of, and the Moon Goddess saw fit to mate him to MY Kora Before me. 

And then he’d had the gall to reject her. He who was already so unworthy, marking her with shame. 

“Careful of the furniture,” Marcus warned as the table began to creak under my fingers. 

I let up, not because I was any less angry, but because I thought it would be impolite to damage my ally’s property. Knowing Marcus, it was probably a priceless antique. “Forgive me.” 

Marcus waved his cup dismissively. “No harm done. Understandable, given the circumstances. I would have fl*pped the table by now if I were still in my youth and finding out this sort of thing. I’m just surprised your mate didn’t tell you.” 

Yes, Kora and I had a lot to talk about when I returned home. Things I’d been meaning to talk to her about before being pulled into this diplomatic meeting, and apparently, more. We haven’t had a chance to talk since the ceremony. I admitted. 

“Oh, dear. Never good to leave a woman hanging in limbo, Hale. They start getting all sorts of ideas, making up shift you can’t even imagine.” Marcus said. 

While Marcus enjoyed the creature comforts, he was still a bit rough around the edges. Still, I couldn’t fault his wisdom. After all, Giselle had gotten it into her head that she was going to be Luna, Who knew what Kora could be thinking by now? 

“I think I really ought to be getting home,” I murmured, determined to set it all straight. 

Marcus chuckled. “I think you really ought to be drinking something stronger than wine. Kent, get us some brandy, will you? Brimming for this one.” 

The head butler nodded and disappeared, only to return with my favorite amber liquid. 

Knowing Marcus, it would be high quality, too. 

Kent set my brandy down in front of me. The tumbler was, indeed, filled to the brim. 

“To our women. May they never get the wrong idea,” Marcus said, raising his glass. 

*To our women,” I agreed, raising my own. “And to Fullbright and Nightwind.” 

“And those who are about to die.” Marcus added solemnly. 

It was that last bit that had me drinking long into the night.