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Home / Werewolf / Rejected and Reclaimed: The Alpha's Second Bond / Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

All Chapters of Rejected and Reclaimed: The Alpha's Second Bond : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

29 Chapters

One

Elara’s POVThe kitchen smelled like burnt bread and rosemary again. I wiped sweat from my forehead with the back of my wrist and shoved another tray of rolls into the massive stone oven. The heat blasted my face like a slap. My arms ached from kneading dough since dawn, and my feet—bare because my only pair of shoes had finally split at the seams—were throbbing against the cold flagstones.Another ordinary morning in Silver Moon Pack.Another morning being invisible.I was used to it.Most days, I told myself it didn’t matter. I had a roof, food (even if it was the scraps after everyone else ate), and a bed in the attic above the kitchens that no one bothered to check on. I was eighteen in three days. Three days until the full moon ceremony. Three days until the Moon Goddess finally showed me who I belonged to.That was the only thing that kept me breathing some nights.I pulled the tray out, the rolls golden and perfect. I arranged them on the cooling rack, counting silently to keep

Two

Damon’s POVThe training grounds smelled like sweat, blood, and wet earth. I liked it that way—raw, honest. No bullshit.I circled Cade, my beta, boots sinking into the mud. He was grinning like an idiot, bouncing on the balls of his feet, fists up. He’d been mouthing off all morning about how he could take me if I “let him win for once.” Cute.I feinted left. He bit—hard. I drove my elbow into his ribs before he could pull back. The crack echoed. He grunted, doubled over, but still laughing through the pain.“Fuck, Alpha. You hit like you’re pissed at me.”“I’m not pissed,” I said, wiping sweat from my brow. “You’re just slow.”Cade straightened, rubbing his side. “Slow? I’m the fastest in the pack.”“Not today.”He smirked. “Maybe if you weren’t distracted by that pretty little thing watching from the fence line.”I didn’t need to look to know who he meant.Valentina.She was perched on the top rail, legs crossed, crimson top clinging to her like a second skin. Hair perfect, lips pa

Three

Elara’s POVI woke up before dawn, the way I always did on mornings that mattered.The attic was freezing. My breath fogged in the dim light leaking through the cracked window. I pulled the thin blanket tighter around my shoulders and sat up, knees drawn to my chest. The rejection mark wasn’t there yet—today was the day it might appear. Or not.Eighteen.The full moon was tonight.My birthday.I stared at the small mirror propped against the wall—cracked in one corner, borrowed from the kitchen scraps. My reflection looked back: dark hair tangled from sleep, green eyes too wide, skin pale from too many hours indoors. No glow. No sign of the wolf that refused to wake up.I touched my neck where the mate mark would go if the Goddess was kind. Nothing. Just skin.Three days ago I’d told myself I could survive anything as long as tonight happened. Now the nerves felt like knives in my stomach.I dressed quickly—same white shift every unshifted girl wore for the ceremony, simple cotton tha

Four

Damon’s POVThe clearing was packed tighter than usual tonight. Torches snapped and hissed, throwing orange flickers across faces I’d known my whole life. The drums thumped low and steady—familiar, almost comforting. I stood at the front with the elders, arms crossed, Val tucked against my side like she belonged there.She did belong there.Tonight was supposed to be simple: watch the lower ranks go through their mate reveals, nod politely when the Goddess paired off the nobodies, then step forward with Val at my side. Announce her as my chosen Luna. Seal it with a public mark if the elders pushed for tradition. The pack would cheer. My father would finally stop looking at me like I was still a boy playing at Alpha.Easy.Val’s fingers laced through mine, squeezing once. She smelled like jasmine and victory.“You nervous?” she whispered, lips brushing my ear.I smirked down at her. “For this? No.”She laughed softly. “Good. Because after tonight, no one gets to question us.”I squeeze

Five

Elara’s POVThe forest swallowed me whole.Branches clawed at my arms, my face, ripping the thin white shift into ribbons that fluttered behind me like surrender flags I refused to wave. My bare feet slammed against roots and stones, each step sending fresh pain shooting up my legs, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. If I stopped, the scream building in my throat since Damon’s voice cut through the night would finally break free, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever stop screaming once it started.The rejection mark burned.Not like a candle flame. Like someone had poured molten iron directly onto my skin and let it eat inward. Every heartbeat pulsed through it—sharp, vicious, reminding me exactly what he’d said.Weak.Unworthy.Forgotten.I pressed my palm to the mark without thinking. The skin felt raised, hot, angry. My fingers came away slick with blood. I stared at the crimson smear on my hand for one stupid second, then wiped it on my ruined dress and kept running.How far had I gone? Mile

Six

Lucian’s POV The wind carried the scent of pine and blood tonight. It always did in Nightshade territory—old blood, new blood, the kind that never quite washed away from the earth. I stood on the ridge overlooking the southern border, arms folded across my chest, letting the cold bite into my bare skin. Shirtless even in late autumn. The cold kept my wolf sharp. Kept the curse from settling too deep. I’d learned that lesson years ago. The moon was fat and silver above the treeline, pulling at every wolf in the pack, but it pulled hardest at me. Always had. Since the night the curse took root. I was twenty-three then. Young for an Alpha. My father had just died in a raid from a rival pack—Silver Moon’s allies at the time. My mate, Liora, had been with him. She wasn’t a fighter. She was a healer. Gentle. Soft-spoken. The kind of female who made even the most brutal warriors lower their voices when she walked by. They killed her anyway. I found her body hours later—throat torn op

Seven

Elara’s POVThe first thing I became aware of was warmth.Not the sharp, stinging kind that came from fever or infection.Soft. Steady. Wrapped around me like a blanket I hadn’t earned.My eyelids felt glued shut. Heavy. Crusted with dried tears and forest dirt. I tried to swallow and tasted blood—my own—metallic and thick on my tongue.A low hum filled the air. Not voices exactly. More like… breathing. Multiple people breathing quietly, carefully, the way you do when you’re trying not to wake someone.I didn’t want to open my eyes.Opening them meant remembering.Remembering Damon’s voice slicing through the night.Remembering the golden thread snapping.Remembering Val’s laugh echoing like broken glass.Remembering the rejection mark burning like acid as I ran.But the warmth was insistent. It pressed against my skin—soft linen sheets, a thick quilt, the faint scent of lavender and healing herbs. My body hurt in too many places to count—knee throbbing, palms stinging, neck on fire—b

Eight

Lucian’s PovThe door clicked shut behind Gideon, leaving only the low crackle of the fire and the soft, uneven rhythm of her breathing.I stayed exactly where I was—elbows braced on knees, hands locked together so tightly the knuckles ached. If I moved even an inch closer to that cot, I might shatter whatever fragile thread of control I still had left.Six years.Six years of iron discipline.Of chaining the beast inside me every full moon.Of sleeping alone in a cabin so remote even the wind sounded lonely.Of watching my pack from the shadows because getting too close meant risking someone’s life.And in one night—one scent, one glimpse of green eyes wide with terror—every wall I’d built crumbled like ash.She was asleep again.Curled on her side under the quilt, knees drawn up, one hand tucked under her cheek. The angry red mark on the side of her neck peeked above the bandage—fresh, raw, unmistakable.A rejection mark.Not a mating bite gone wrong. Not a battle scar.A deliberate

Nine

Lucian’s POVI waited until her breathing evened out again—deep, slow, the kind of sleep that comes after the body has finally given up fighting. Only then did I rise from the chair.Every muscle protested. Not from exhaustion, but from the sheer effort of holding still for so long. My wolf clawed at the inside of my ribs, restless, needy, demanding I stay. Demanding I crawl onto that cot beside her, wrap myself around her small frame, and let the bond drown out the last six years of silence in my chest.I ignored him.I had to.She’d made it clear: no touching.No crowding.No claiming.I would honor that until my last breath—even if it killed me.The door opened quietly. Selene slipped back in, carrying a steaming mug of herbal tea and a small tray with bread, cheese, and a bowl of broth. She took one look at me—at the tension in my shoulders, the clenched fists—and her expression softened.“She’s asleep again,” she said, voice low.I nodded once.Selene set the tray on the side tab

Ten

Elara’s POVMorning light slipped through the narrow window like it was afraid to disturb anyone.It painted thin gold stripes across the wooden floor, across the quilt bunched around my waist, across the empty chair where the scarred Alpha had sat all night.He was gone now.The room felt bigger without him.Emptier.I hated that I noticed.I pushed myself up slowly—careful, testing every ache. My knee throbbed when I bent it, but it held. The rejection mark on my neck pulsed once, duller than yesterday, like the worst of the fire had burned out overnight. The bandages were clean. Someone had changed them while I slept.My stomach growled—loud, embarrassing.I pressed a hand to it.The tray Selene had left was still there: a bowl of broth (now cold), a thick slice of bread, a small wedge of cheese, a mug of something that smelled like chamomile and honey.I stared at it.Then at the door.Then at the window.I could try to leave.The thought flickered—bright, desperate—then died just

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