The Alpha's Fake Rejection: Dying for His Love

"Look at me, slave."

"Go to hell, Kael," I spat, tasting copper as my teeth dug into my own cheek.

Kael’s fingers clamped around my jaw like a vise, forcing my face upward toward the jagged ceiling of the crypt. The damp air smelled of old iron and decay.

"Still so stubborn," Kael sneered, his grip tightening until my bones ached. "Five years bound by the blood pact, scrubbing floors and taking my orders, and you still talk back to your Alpha."

"You are no Alpha," I said, my voice rough but steady. "You're a butcher."

"A butcher who commands your life," he corrected, his lips curling into a cruel smile. "You exist because I allow it. You breathe because I have use for you."

"Then kill me," I challenged, staring directly into his cold, gray eyes. "End it. Stop playing these sick games."

"And waste such a valuable resource?" He chuckled, a dry, hollow sound.

With his free hand, he pulled a silver scalpel from his coat pocket. The cold metal caught the dim torchlight. I knew that blade. Five years ago, it had severed my father's throat.

"Your father died begging," Kael whispered, dragging the flat edge of the scalpel down my cheek. "He cried like a pup right before I took his life."

"You ambushed him," I hissed, jerking my head, but his grip held firm. "He would have torn you apart in a fair fight. He was a true Alpha."

"Fair fights are for fools," Kael replied. He yanked my right arm forward, slamming my wrist against the damp, algae-covered stone of the altar. "Let's see if you beg today."

"I will never kneel to you," I ground out.

He pressed the metal into my palm and sliced.

The silver tore through my flesh. Fire shot up my arm. I clamped my teeth over my lower lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a scream.

"Nothing?" Kael laughed, wiping the bloody scalpel on his pristine white jacket. "Such useless pride. Your conquered blood is barely fit for the dirt, Lily."

"Then why do you keep stealing it from me?" I shot back, yanking my bleeding hand against his hold.

"Because it serves a purpose," Kael said, releasing my wrist only to grab a fistful of my hair. He dragged me toward the edge of the altar. "It might just be enough to feed the beast in the dark."

"What are you talking about?" I demanded, stumbling over the uneven floor.

"You think this pack thrives on my leadership alone?" Kael mocked. "There are older, hungrier things beneath our feet. Things that require a sacrifice."

He shoved me backward. My heels slipped on the wet stone.

Before I could regain my balance, his heavy boot slammed into my ribs.

Air punched out of my lungs. The edge of the altar vanished.

"Enjoy the abyss, Lily," Kael's voice echoed from above.

I plummeted into the black fissure.

The drop was short but brutal. My spine slammed against a slab of freezing underground stone. Pain exploded through my shoulders. I rolled onto my side, coughing violently as I clutched my ribs. My bleeding right hand slapped against the rock beneath me.

Warm blood pooled beneath my fingers, instantly catching in deep, ancient grooves carved into the surface.

I forced my eyes open, blinking away the dark spots in my vision.

"Where am I?" I muttered, pushing myself onto my elbows.

I watched, paralyzed, as my blood raced down the winding stone channels, flowing straight toward the center of the subterranean room.

"Who goes there?" a raspy voice echoed from the shadows.

I froze.

In the center of the crypt, a massive stone pillar rose from the floor. A man hung suspended against it. Thick silver chains tore through his collarbones, pinning his broad frame to the rock.

This was Draven. The Alpha of the rival bloodline, sealed away in the dark, starved and tortured for a hundred years.

"Answer me," Draven demanded, his voice a gravelly rumble that vibrated through the stone.

"I was thrown down here," I answered, pushing myself up to my knees. "By Kael."

"Kael," Draven repeated, the name sounding like poison on his tongue. He lifted his head. Dark hair obscured half his face, but his jaw was clenched tight. "Another pathetic offering from a coward's bloodline."

"I am no offering," I snapped, clutching my bleeding hand. "I am a prisoner."

"You bleed on my stone," he pointed out, his eyes tracking the crimson line snaking toward him.

The channel ended on the ledge above his shoulder.

"Wait, move away from the wall!" I yelled, seeing the crimson trail nearing the edge.

"I cannot move, little wolf," he mocked, gesturing slightly to the chains impaling his chest.

A single drop of my blood fell from the lip of the rock.

It struck the torn flesh at his collarbone and vanished beneath his skin.

Fire lashed across my right wrist.

"Ah!" I cried out, grabbing my arm.

I ripped my sleeve back. A glowing silver totem—a crescent moon tangled in thorny vines—seared itself into my flesh. The skin bubbled and hissed, the mark embedding itself deep into my veins.

Across the cavern, the exact same silver light flared on Draven’s chained wrist.

"What did you do?" Draven roared.

"I didn't do anything!" I shouted back, scrambling backward until my spine hit the cold cavern wall. "I didn't ask for this!"

My chest caved inward. A crushing, agonizing weight clamped around my heart, as if a giant hand were squeezing it to a pulp.

I gasped, clawing at my own shirt. "Stop!"

"You dare try to control me?" Draven bellowed.

The silver chains rattled furiously.

Draven’s eyes snapped open, burning a brilliant, unnatural red.

"You bound us," he snarled, his fangs bared.

He didn't even flinch at the metal tearing his flesh. In a blur of motion, he ripped the chains from the wall, taking chunks of solid rock with them. He crossed the cavern before I could rise.

"Thief," he rasped, leaning in so close I could smell the dust and dried blood on his skin.

"Release me," I choked out, my hands flying up to pry at his fingers.

"You dare wake me with this foul blood?" Draven growled, his grip tightening, cutting off my air supply. "You force a bond on a king?"

"It wasn't... my choice!" I gasped, kicking at his thighs, but it was like striking a brick wall.

"I will snap your neck before I let a weak Omega bind me," he threatened, his red eyes blazing with a century of rage.

"Then... do it," I wheezed, glaring back at him.

He squeezed harder. My vision began to narrow, black creeping into the edges of my sight.

But as his grip tightened, crushing my windpipe, a blistering heat bloomed across the front of my neck.

Draven suddenly froze. His red eyes widened slightly.

He stared down at my throat, then dropped his gaze to his own chest.

An identical bruise, bright as a brand, spread across his own throat beneath his gripping hand.