Dump the Alpha, Mated to the King

It took Adrian nearly half a week to walk unaided. His recovery had been slow-slower than what an Alpha's should be-because his mate had withdrawn. Mira never visited. Just as he had demanded. Everyone had expected the Luna to relent first. Luna Mira was, after all, renowned for her grace and virtue, always placing Alpha Adrian and the pack's well-being above all else. Yet, she did not. No messages. No calls. Not even an inquiry about his condition through the pack physicians. Adrian did not reach out to her either. The standoff lasted until the day Alpha Adrian returned to the manor. The house was immaculate as ever, but something vital was missing. For the first time, Mira was not waiting at the door to welcome him home, to take his coat with a smile and ask if he needed anything. The realization stung the proud Alpha. Not with guilt, but with the affront to his authority. "Mira," he called through the bond. Silence was her only reply. Adrian took the stairs two at a time, pushing into their bedroom. The sight of his wife seated at her vanity made him frown. "I was calling for you. Why do you not answer your Alpha?" The brush in Mira's hand hesitated for only a fraction of a second as he shut the door behind him. His scent of sandalwood and pine instantly filled the space. She clenched her fist, trying to ignore the inner pull, the way his presence seemed to wrap around her. She could make her tone light. "I assumed you weren't lonely. After all, don't you have your most excellent assistant for company?" After Ivy's arrival, Adrian had not only offered her sanctuary but a position within the family corporation as his personal assistant. His office, the one place he had always insisted was off-limits to Mira-as Luna, your domain is the pack's heart and home, he'd said-was now Ivy's daily workplace. The thought nearly made the brush in Mira's hand snap. "You know Ivy has been through a great deal," Adrian continued, closing the distance, utterly blind to the bitter edge in her words. "She's sensitive. Fragile. You shouldn't take your temper out on her." Ivy, Ivy, Ivy. Mira threw the brush onto the vanity with a clatter. "Right! She's sensitive, she's fragile, she needs protecting. Then go be with her! Why come back here?" She stared up at him, her eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears, filled with a hurt he seemed determined not to see. A flicker of surprise passed through Adrian's gaze, quickly schooled back into impassivity. "Mind your tone, Mira." His hands came down on her shoulders, firm and imposing. "You are my mate. You should never turn away from me." Mira's lashes fluttered. So he did remember she was his mate. Adrian leaned in, his breath a whisper against her skin. "I need you, Mira." His words sounded intimate, but his tone was disturbingly cold. Mira's heart trembled with a bitter ache. This wasn't an endearment; it was a command, a statement of his needs. He still required the power of the mate-bond to heal. Tears threatened again, but Adrian paid them no mind, intent on claiming her lips. With a surge of courage she didn't know she possessed, Mira pushed against his chest. "Don't touch me!" A shadow flickered in Adrian's eyes. "Mira! My patience has limits!" He took a forceful step forward, his arms wrapping around her waist, effortlessly lifting and pinning her beneath him on the bed, straddling her hips. "Obey your Alpha! This is your duty as Luna!" "No! No, I can't! Not like this!" "It's been three years, Mira." Adrian's kiss was a hard, demanding pressure. "You can't retreat forever. I want you. Now." Tears streamed freely as Mira kicked and struggled, but Adrian was unyielding. His strength was absolute. One hand pinned her wrists above her head while the other tore ruthlessly at her clothes. Heartbreak mingled with a deeper, colder dread within Mira. She had never imagined her husband would treat her like the monster from three years ago. He knew. He knew what that night had done to her, the trauma that had nearly shattered her, the way it had left her terrified of a man's touch. He knew of the shame she carried. On their wedding night, he had promised, his voice solemn, 'I will never force you'. As Adrian's tongue forced its way past her lips, Mira bit down, hard. Adrian grunted in pain, his grip loosening. Seizing the moment, Mira shoved him off and scrambled to the farthest corner of the bed, dragging the torn covers around her trembling form. Adrian went rigid. For a split second, something like regret flashed in his eyes-but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. "Mira," he said, frustration edging his voice, "you can't live in fear of this forever. I am your Alpha. Your husband." The impatience in his tone cut deeper than any shout. A tight, suffocating pain seized Mira's chest. He had never spoken to her like this before, not about this. Their therapist had advised patience, taking things slowly. And things had been getting better. Just three months ago, they had shared a few, truly tender kisses. She had finally stopped flinching at his touch. Now, all that fragile progress lay in ruins. She flinched again as he shifted on the bed. "Please... just go away..." Her plea was a broken whisper. Adrian stared at her for a long moment, then let out a deep, exasperated sigh. He stood up and strode from the room-boots still on-slamming the door shut behind him. The silence in the room was deafening. The mate-bond ached dully between them, a silent siren call urging her to follow, to submit. But she couldn't erase the image of his face, twisted with a determination that had felt like cruelty. The same cold, isolating despair she'd known three years ago washed over her once more. Only this time, it came from her husband. That cut the deepest. Mira didn't know how long she cried before her phone rang. It was the cake shop's delivery service. Then she remembered. Today was their wedding anniversary. She had ordered the cake a week ago, harboring a fragile, private hope: if all went well today, she might have found the courage to finally, fully, give herself to him, to complete their bond in every way. Now, that courage lay in splinters. His impatient tone, his disappointed eyes flashed before her. For a fleeting second, doubt wavered within her. Had she overreacted? Had he chosen to come home today because the date meant something to him, too? Swallowing hard, she mustered the remnants of her resolve and dialed Adrian's number. One ring, two. No answer. She tried again. And again. Then, the final, definitive click of a declined call. He was truly angry, wasn't he? Her fingers trembled as she scrolled and dialed his Beta, Mason. The line connected, and a wall of thumping bass and raucous laughter exploded from the speaker. "Luna?" Mason's voice came through, loud and casual over the din. "It's late. Everything alright?" "Is Adrian with you?" Mira asked, her voice barely a whisper against the noise. "I can't reach him." "The Alpha had a bit too much," Mason replied easily. "Stepped away for a moment. Don't worry, I've got him." He paused, then added, "I've got another call coming in-" Mira stared at the phone, her lower lip caught between her teeth. His lie was flimsy, transparent. The call hadn't disconnected. She heard a muffled voice, thick with drink and derision. "Funny the Luna still bothers. Three years and she hasn't let the Alpha touch her-no wonder he runs to Ivy." A chorus of rough laughter followed. "Alpha Adrian treats Ivy like a treasure. Does Luna Mira actually think she's special? Everyone knows what happened to her. Damaged goods. Couldn't even keep her virtue. The Alpha's mercy is all that keeps her." Another voice chimed in. "Ivy wasn't around back then. Now that she is, the Alpha finally knows what a real gem is. Look at them dance. They fit. The tainted Mira should do the pack a favor and step aside." Each word was a lash, stripping her bare. The mockery. The scorn. They all knew. Everyone knew. Everyone knew of his infidelity but her. He had made a public fool of her. Heat prickled behind her eyes, a fresh wave of tears threatening. Even *that*-the thing Adrian had sworn on his life never to tell another soul-was pack gossip now. He had promised to guard her dignity for a lifetime, and he had broken that vow, too. She clenched her jaw, forcing the tears back. A tight, furious pain constricted her chest. Her wolf howled in silent agony, but she remained perfectly still. She held that position until the first grey light of dawn seeped through the curtains. When her phone finally chimed, she didn't startle. A part of her, a foolish, wounded part, expected-almost hoped-for a message from him. Even that was too much to ask. It was Ivy. A new post on the pack's public network. The image was of a slender wrist adorned with an exquisite, sparkling diamond bracelet. The caption, simple and dripping with faux innocence, read: **I just happened to admire it in passing. The Alpha insisted it belonged on my wrist.**