Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by the King

The candles had burned down to mere stubs by the time I heard Hudson's car pull into the driveway. Two hours. Two hours I'd waited in our private dining room, watching the carefully prepared anniversary dinner grow cold while my wolf paced restlessly beneath my skin.

I smoothed my emerald dress—the one he'd said brought out my eyes on our mating night exactly one year ago—and forced my expression into calm composure. An Alpha's daughter didn't show weakness, even when her heart felt like it was cracking with each passing minute.

The front door slammed shut with more force than necessary, followed by heavy footsteps that lacked their usual confident rhythm. When Hudson finally appeared in the doorway, my breath caught in my throat for all the wrong reasons.

His dark hair was disheveled, his tie loosened and askew. But it was the smudge of coral lipstick on his collar—lipstick I didn't own—that made my wolf snarl with fury.

"Sorry I'm late," he muttered, not meeting my eyes as he shrugged out of his jacket. The movement released a wave of unfamiliar scent that hit me like a physical blow. Sweet jasmine mixed with something earthier, more desperate. Another she-wolf's scent, clinging to my mate like a second skin.

"Two hours, Hudson." My voice remained steady despite the storm raging inside me. "On our anniversary."

He had the audacity to look annoyed as he loosened his tie further, trying to cover the lipstick stain. "Pack business ran late. You know how these things go."

Lies. The word echoed through our mate bond before he could slam his mental walls shut, but not before I caught a flash of guilt that made my stomach turn.

"What pack business requires jasmine perfume?" I stood slowly, my Alpha heritage lending weight to each word. "What pack business leaves coral lipstick on your collar?"

Hudson's jaw tightened, and I watched his eyes flash with the golden glow that preceded his Alpha dominance. "Don't start, Alyssa. I'm tired, and I don't need an interrogation the moment I walk through the door."

"An interrogation?" The laugh that escaped me held no humor. "I'm asking my mate where he's been on our anniversary. The anniversary dinner I've been waiting for since six o'clock."

"You're being dramatic." His Alpha tone rolled over me like a physical force, designed to make me submit, to make me back down and accept whatever scraps of attention he was willing to give. "I said I was sorry. Can't that be enough?"

But I was an Alpha's daughter, born to lead, not to cower. My own authority rose to meet his, the air between us crackling with competing dominance. "No, Hudson. It's not enough. Not anymore."

His eyes widened slightly—he wasn't used to anyone challenging his Alpha tone, least of all his mate. For a moment, I saw a flicker of the man I'd fallen in love with, the one who'd held me gently after our mating ceremony and promised me forever.

Then