Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by the King

I stared at the yellow rubber duck bobbing in our bathroom sink, its cheerful face mocking me. Something about its presence felt wrong—an intrusion in the private sanctuary I shared with my mate. I picked it up, turning it over in my hands. It was clean, as if someone had deliberately placed it here.

"Carolina?" Dylan's voice came from the bedroom. "You almost ready for the council meeting?"

"Just a minute," I called back, setting the duck down. When Dylan appeared in the doorway, I nodded toward it. "What's this doing in our sink?"

He glanced at it, his expression flickering before settling into casual dismissal. "Oh, that. Just some pack maintenance supplies. Marcus must have left them here when he was checking the plumbing last week."

My wolf stirred inside me, a low growl rumbling through our shared consciousness. *He's lying.*

"How strange," I said, watching his face carefully. "I didn't see any plumbing issues noted in the weekly reports."

Dylan's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "It was minor. Probably didn't warrant a full report."

His eyes wouldn't meet mine as he turned away. Seven years as his Luna had taught me to read the subtle signs of deception—the slight shift in posture, the way his scent changed when he was withholding something.

"Right," I said softly, letting him think I believed him.

---

The pack house was silent at midnight, most members asleep after a long day of territory patrols and pack duties. I couldn't sleep, my wolf restless and alert to something I couldn't quite name. I slipped from our bed, Dylan's steady breathing telling me he was deeply asleep.

The hallway was dark, but my enhanced Luna vision allowed me to navigate easily. I headed toward the kitchen, drawn by a strange compulsion I couldn't explain.

A soft light spilled from beneath the kitchen door. I pushed it open silently.

Dylan stood at the sink, his back to me, carefully washing something yellow in his hands. The counter beside him was lined with neat rows of rubber ducks—at least a dozen of them.

"What are you doing?" I asked, unable to hide my presence any longer.

He spun around, water dripping from his hands. "Carolina!" His voice was too loud, too startled. "I thought you were asleep."

"So did I." My eyes fixed on the ducks. "What's going on, Dylan?"

"Just... cleaning up." He wiped his hands on a towel, but his movements were jerky, uncertain. "These were left in the bathroom. I thought I'd wash them properly."

"In the middle of the night?" My wolf was fully alert now, hackles raised. "And why are there so many of them?"

His eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere but at me. "Like I said, they're just maintenance supplies. For... pipe cleaning or something."

"That's not what you said earlier." I stepped closer, and he took an instinctive step back. "Dylan, what aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing." Too quick, too defensive. "I'm tired, Carolina. Can we talk about