Unwanted Mate: The Rise of the Silver Healer

Five years ago, I poured my rare Silver Essence into Alpha Damien’s dying body, nearly sacrificing my own life to stitch his fatal wounds.

But when he woke up, Seraphina was the one sitting by his bedside with a wet cloth. He assumed she was his savior, and she never corrected him.

Now, three weeks before our Mating Ceremony, Damien brought her into our home.

She was pregnant, and she was wearing his bite mark.

"It is a Life Debt, Isla," Damien told me, his voice devoid of warmth. "She saved me. The Elders invoked the statute. You will accept this."

He moved her into the penthouse meant for us. He demanded I use my healing gifts to tend to his mistress and their "miracle" heir.

I became a ghost in my own pack, forced to watch my Fated Mate shower her with the love that belonged to me. He even ordered me to publicly apologize to her for my "jealousy."

But as I reviewed her medical file, I found the truth he was too blind to see.

The fetus was six weeks old. He had only marked her three weeks ago.

And her energy levels? Non-existent. She didn't have a drop of healing magic in her blood.

Damien thought I was preparing for our wedding.

Instead, I picked up a red marker and crossed out the date on the calendar.

On the morning of the ceremony, while he waited at the altar, I answered his frantic call.

"I, Isla, reject you, Damien."

It was time he learned exactly what he had thrown away.

Chapter 1

Isla POV:

The glass vial slipped from my fingers. It hit the marble floor of the laboratory, shattering into a thousand glittering diamonds. The precious Moon Petal extract, a silver liquid I had spent three nights distilling, seeped into the grout.

I didn't care. *The ice spreading through my veins numbed the loss.*

Damien stood in the doorway of my clinic. He looked like a god of war, tall and broad-shouldered, his dark hair perfectly styled. But his eyes, usually warm when they looked at me, were cold. Detached.

"It is necessary, Isla," he said. His voice was deep, a rumble that usually soothed my wolf. Today, it sounded like a judge reading a death sentence.

"Necessary?" I whispered. My voice trembled. "You are going to mark her? Damien, we are Fated Mates. You cannot mark another. It is a violation of the highest law of the Moon Goddess."

Damien stepped into the room. The air grew heavy. It was his Alpha Aura. In our world, the Alpha is the absolute ruler. His presence alone demands submission. My inner wolf, weakened from years of giving my essence to heal others, whimpered and curled into a ball in the back of my mind.

"Seraphina is dying," Damien said, his jaw tight. *"The Council of Elders has invoked the Life Debt Statute. They claim her spirit is untethered and only an Alpha's anchor can hold it. It's political, Isla. She saved me during the Blood Moon battle. The Elders won't let the pack look ungrateful."*

"And what about my life?" I asked, taking a step back. "What about our bond? The Mating Ceremony is in one month."

*"It's a strategic marking,"* he said, waving his hand dismissively. *"A formality to satisfy the Old Laws. Once she stabilizes, I'll petition the Council to annul it. You're a Healer; you understand triage. We do what we must to save the patient."*

"A marking is not a bandage, Damien!" I screamed, the pain in my chest flaring up. "It involves the mixing of souls. It involves..."

"Enough!"

The word slammed into me like a physical blow. It wasn't just a shout. It was the Alpha's Command.

My body froze. My muscles locked up against my will. This was the power of the Alpha-to force absolute obedience from his pack members. I tried to move my arm, to wipe the tears falling from my eyes, but I was a statue.

Damien walked up to me. He towered over me, smelling of rain and ozone. He reached out and brushed a tear from my cheek, but his touch burned.

"Do not question me, Isla," he said softly, dangerously. "I am doing this for the good of the Moon Shadow Pack. A true Luna would understand sacrifice. You will accept this. That is an order."

He released the Command. I collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air amidst the broken glass and spilled silver liquid. He didn't offer a hand to help me up. He turned and walked away, his heavy boots echoing down the hallway.

*The next twenty-four hours were a blur of humiliation.*

I stood by the window of the pack house, watching the black SUVs pull into the driveway. Damien stepped out first. He opened the rear door with a gentleness he used to save for me.

Seraphina emerged. She looked delicate, her skin pale, leaning heavily on Damien's arm. But as she looked up at the window, her eyes met mine.

She smiled.

It wasn't a weak smile. It was sharp. Predatory.

Damien led her not to the guest quarters, but to the private elevator that led to the Alpha's penthouse. The penthouse that was supposed to be our home after the wedding.

I spent the day in the lower-level clinic, treating minor injuries for the warriors, trying to ignore the whispers of the nurses. *Pity is a bitter pill, and I was choking on it.*

That evening, I returned to the apartment I currently shared with Damien on the floor below the penthouse. I heard the door open.

Damien walked in. He looked exhausted. He loosened his tie and walked toward the kitchen to get water.

"Is she settled?" I asked. My voice was hollow.

"Yes," he said, drinking deeply. "She is resting."

I walked closer to him. I couldn't help it. My wolf sought him out, desperate for reassurance. But as I got within three feet of him, I stopped.

The smell hit me.

It wasn't just the scent of another person. In our world, scent is everything. It tells you who someone is, how they feel, and who they have been with.

Damien smelled of lilies and cloying sweetness. That was Seraphina's scent. But it was deeper than that. It was woven into his own scent of rain and ozone. It was the smell of post-coital mixing. It was the smell of fluids exchanged, of sweat mingled, of a claim laid upon flesh.

I gagged. I covered my mouth and stumbled back.

"You didn't just mark her," I choked out. "You slept with her."

Damien slammed the glass down. *"The ritual required full contact to transfer the energy! The Elders insisted on the traditional method. I told you, Isla, it was a necessity."*

"Don't lie to me!" I cried. "I can feel it! The bond... our bond..."

I clutched my chest. A sharp, tearing pain ripped through my heart. It felt like a serrated knife sawing through the invisible golden thread that connected our souls.

"Stop being dramatic," Damien snapped. *It is done. Focus on your duties. Seraphina will need checkups. As the future Luna, you will ensure she is comfortable.*

His voice echoed in my head. He was using the Mind-Link. It was the telepathic connection used by wolves to communicate silently. Usually, it was intimate. Now, it felt like a violation.

"I won't do it," I said aloud.

"You will," he said, turning his back on me. "Or you are not fit to lead this pack."

He went into the bedroom and slammed the door. I stood in the living room, the silence ringing in my ears.

The next morning, I was drinking coffee when Seraphina walked in. She didn't knock. She was wearing Damien's white dress shirt. It hung loosely on her frame, the top buttons undone.

She saw me looking. She tilted her head to the side, brushing her hair back.

There, on the junction of her neck and shoulder, was a fresh, angry bite mark. It was bruising purple and red. Damien's mark.

"Coffee?" she asked sweetly. "Damien makes the best coffee."

She walked past me and dropped a file on the table. "Oh, Damien wanted you to look at this. My medical history. Since you're the Healer."

I stared at the bite mark. My wolf was howling in agony, scratching at the walls of my mind, demanding we attack the intruder. But I forced myself to pick up the file. I was a professional.

I opened it. I scanned the recent blood work.

My eyes narrowed. I had been a Healer for ten years. I could read hormone levels better than I could read English.

HCG levels. Progesterone spikes.

"You're pregnant," I said, my voice flat.

"Yes," Seraphina beamed, rubbing her flat stomach. "A miracle, isn't it? Damien's strong seed... it saved me."

I looked at the numbers again. "This report says the fetus is six weeks along."

Seraphina froze for a fraction of a second. "So?"

"Damien said he marked you three weeks ago. To save your life."

Seraphina laughed. It was a light, tinkling sound. "Oh, Isla. You and your charts. Maybe the machine was wrong. Or maybe... *maybe the 'Life Debt' wasn't the only reason he kept coming to check on me these past few months.*"

She leaned in close. "He never really wanted a weak mate, you know. He needs a Luna with teeth."

She took her file and sashayed out of the room.

I sat there for a long time. Six weeks. He had been sleeping with her long before the "medical emergency." The life debt was a lie. The saving her life was a lie.

I looked at the calendar on the wall. The date of the Mating Ceremony was circled in red ink.

I picked up a black marker. I didn't cross it out.

I counted the days.

Thirteen days.

That was how long I needed to prepare my exit without alerting the Alpha.

Thirteen days left.