As a wolfless charity case at the Hyde Pack’s celebration, my world shattered when Braydon, my supposed protector, publicly announced Katherine Parrish as his Luna, erasing me.
Heartbroken, I fled into a terrifying contract marriage with Alpha King Dallas Marshall for protection. Braydon’s public assault and threats forced me to reveal my secret marriage, challenging the King.
My “protection” felt like a prison. Braydon revealed I was a “key” to power, not a mate, confirming my fears. Enraged by my attempt to take a morning-after pill, Dallas forced me to swallow it, then branded my lips with a furious kiss.
His chilling silence hardened my resolve. I immediately drafted an addendum to our contract, setting strict boundaries to reclaim control.
Rejected Luna, Claimed by the King Chapter 1
Adella POV
The Great Hall of the Hyde Pack smelled of roasted venison, stale wine, and the suffocating musk of a hundred wolves posturing for dominance. But to me, it smelled like rejection.
I stood in the shadows behind a massive stone pillar, clutching the stem of my empty glass like a lifeline. My dress, a faded grey chiffon that had seen better days, made me invisible among the silks and velvets of the high-ranking she-wolves.
“Watch it, wolfless.”
A passing Omega waiter slammed into my shoulder, sending a splash of red wine cascading down my skirt. He didn’t apologize. He didn’t even pause. Why would he? In a world governed by the strength of one’s beast, I was less than nothing. A genetic defect. A charity case kept around only because my parents had died serving the former Alpha.
I bit my lip, fighting the sting of tears. Don’t cry. Do not let them see you break.
At the head table, Braydon Hyde stood up. The room fell silent instantly. He was handsome in that rugged, golden-boy way that had made my heart race since we were children. He was my best friend. My protector. He had promised me, under the old oak tree just last week, that my lack of a wolf didn’t matter to him.
“Tonight,” Braydon’s voice boomed, amplified by his Alpha aura, “marks a new era for our Pack.”
He turned, extending a hand not to me, but to the woman seated beside him. Katherine Parrish. The daughter of a neighboring Alpha. She was stunning, lethal, and possessed a wolf as vicious as her smile.
“I present to you my choice,” Braydon announced, his eyes sweeping over the crowd but deliberately avoiding my dark corner. “Witnessed by the Moon Goddess, my future Luna, Katherine Parrish!”
The applause was thunderous. It crashed over me like a physical blow. I saw Katherine lean in, whispering something in his ear, and Braydon laughed—a sound that shattered the last fragile hope in my chest. He wasn’t just choosing a political alliance; he was erasing me.
I couldn’t breathe. The air in the hall became too thin, too hot. Turning on my heel, I fled.
I ran through the stone corridors, my wine-stained dress clinging to my legs, until I burst into the sanctuary of the Pack Library. I slammed the heavy oak door shut and collapsed against it, sliding down to the cold floor.
Here, surrounded by the scent of dust and ancient parchment, I finally let the sob escape my throat.
“Pathetic,” I whispered to the empty room. “You were a fool to believe him.”
“Tears are a waste of hydration, little one.”
The voice was deep, vibrating through the floorboards and straight into my bones. I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I looked up. Standing in the shadows of the history section was a man I had only seen in terrifying bedtime stories.
Dallas Marshall. The Alpha King. The Lycan.
He was massive, his tuxedo straining against shoulders that seemed wide enough to carry the world. But it was his eyes that paralyzed me—pitch black, abyssal, and locked onto me with a predatory intensity that made my skin prickle.
The air around him didn’t smell like the library anymore. It smelled of a violent thunderstorm and crushed cedar. It was overwhelming. Intoxicating.
“King Marshall,” I choked out, scrambling to stand. My knees were shaking so hard I nearly fell again. “I… I didn’t know you were in here. I’ll leave.”
“Stay.” It wasn’t a request. It was a command that vibrated in the air, though as a wolfless, I shouldn’t have felt the weight of an Alpha’s Command. Yet, my feet rooted to the spot.
Before I could speak, the muffled sound of Braydon’s voice drifted through the door, announcing his engagement feast. The pain in my chest flared again, sharp and agonizing, as if my soul was being torn in half. My legs gave out.
I didn’t hit the floor.
In a blur of movement too fast for human eyes, Dallas was there. His arms, hard as iron, caught me.
Zap.
The moment his skin brushed my bare arm, a jolt of electricity shot through me. It was violent, hot, and undeniable. I gasped, staring up at him in shock. His pupils blew wide, swallowing the whites of his eyes. A low, guttural growl rumbled in his chest—a sound that was entirely animal.
“Take me away,” the words left my mouth before I could stop them. It was madness. He was the most dangerous creature on the continent, a man known for slaughtering entire rogue packs. But looking at the door where Braydon was celebrating my destruction, I didn’t care.
Dallas looked down at me, his expression unreadable, his jaw ticked. “If you leave with me, Adella, there is no coming back. You cross the threshold of my territory, and you belong to the dark.”
“Good,” I whispered, the despair turning into something cold and sharp. “I’m tired of the light.”
The interior of his matte black Maybach was a different world. Silent. hermetically sealed from the pain of the Hyde estate.
We had been driving for twenty minutes. I had found a crystal decanter of whiskey in the center console and drank from it like it was water. The burn in my throat was the only thing distracting me from the phantom electricity still buzzing where he had touched me.
I looked at him. He drove with one hand, his profile sharp and cruel against the passing city lights. He was power incarnate. A mountain that Braydon Hyde could never hope to climb.
If I wanted to survive—if I wanted to make them pay—I needed a weapon. Or a shield.
The alcohol gave me a courage I didn’t possess.
“Marry me,” I blurted out.
The car didn’t swerve, but the air pressure inside the cabin dropped instantly. Dallas didn’t look at me. His grip on the steering wheel tightened until the leather creaked.
“You are drunk, Ms. Everett.”
“I’m desperate,” I corrected, my voice slurring slightly. “I’m wolfless. I have no family. Braydon will kick me out by morning to please his new bitch. I need protection. And you… you need something too, don’t you? Everyone wants something.”
He remained silent for the rest of the drive, the tension thick enough to choke on.
When the elevator opened directly into his penthouse foyer, I stumbled out, the adrenaline fading into exhaustion. The space was cold, minimalist, and terrifyingly empty.
“Wait here.”
Dallas walked to a large abstract painting on the wall, moved it aside, and opened a hidden safe. He pulled out a single document and a fountain pen.
He turned to me, his dark eyes gleaming with something that looked dangerously like triumph.
“You asked for marriage,” he said, his voice smooth as velvet wrapped around a dagger. He placed the paper on the marble console table. “This is a Binding Protection Contract. It grants you my name, my resources, and my absolute protection.”
He leaned in, his cedar scent enveloping me, making my head spin. “But in return, Adella, I own you. Your life. Your safety. Your future. It all becomes mine.”
I looked at the paper. The words swam before my eyes. Binding… Marshall… Wife…
I didn’t read the fine print. I didn’t care about the consequences. I just wanted the pain to stop. I wanted to be untouchable.
I grabbed the pen and scrawled my signature.
Adella Everett.
The moment the ink dried, a wave of dizziness hit me. The room tilted. The last thing I felt was Dallas’s arms scooping me up against his hard chest, and the faint sensation of his lips brushing against my forehead as the darkness took me.
Rejected Luna, Claimed by the King Chapter 2
Adella POV
I woke up drowning. Not in water, but in the scent of him.
Crushed cedar, ozone, and the heavy, electric charge of a violent storm. It was everywhere—seeping into my pores, clinging to the sheets that tangled around my legs. I bolted upright, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
This wasn’t my narrow cot in the servants’ quarters of the Hyde estate. This was a bed large enough to sleep a small army, dressed in charcoal sheets that felt like spun silk. The room was vast, a cavern of glass and dark wood overlooking the city skyline, cold and aggressively masculine.
I looked down. I was wearing a black t-shirt that hung to my knees. It smelled like him. Dallas.
Panic, sharp and acidic, clawed at my throat. The memories of last night crashed into me like a tidal wave—the rejection, the library, the desperate plea in the car, the contract.
I own you.
I scrambled out of bed, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. On the sleek ebony nightstand, a stack of items awaited me. A set of clothes—my exact size, brand new. A matte black credit card with no limit. And a single sheet of heavy cream stationery with handwriting that was jagged and sharp.
Business in the North. Do not leave the city. Use the card.
- D
And next to the note, a velvet box.
My hands trembled as I opened it. Inside sat a platinum band, simple but thick, devoid of diamonds but radiating a terrifying weight. I slid it onto my left ring finger. It fit perfectly. It felt heavier than a shackle.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand, startling me. I picked it up, the screen illuminating the dim room. A text from an unknown number.
“Legal documents filed. You are now the primary beneficiary of the Marshall Estate and under the protection of the Blackwood Pack. Do not make us regret this.”
It was from his Beta. I sank onto the edge of the bed, the air in the penthouse suddenly feeling too thin. I had traded a life of servitude for a gilded cage. I was safe from the world, yes, but I was locked in with a monster.
The phone buzzed again. And again. A continuous, angry vibration.
I looked at the screen. Braydon Hyde (52 missed calls).
My stomach twisted. For years, seeing his name would have made me smile. Now, it just made me want to vomit. The phone rang again, his face flashing on the screen—a photo I had taken of us last summer, laughing in the sun.
“Leave me alone,” I whispered to the empty room.
The ringing didn’t stop. It was a demand. A summons. As if I were still his little wolfless pet, expected to come running the moment he whistled.
Rage, hot and unfamiliar, surged through me. He had humiliated me in front of the entire Pack. He had chosen Katherine. He had erased me. And now he dared to call?
With aggressive force, I swiped the decline button and immediately blocked the number. The silence that followed was deafening, but for the first time in twenty-four hours, I felt a tiny spark of control.
By the time I reached the university library, my nerves were frayed. I had dressed in the clothes Dallas left—dark jeans and a cashmere sweater that cost more than my life’s earnings—hoping to blend in.
“Adella!”
I froze near the reference section. A blur of red hair and boundless energy intercepted me. Azalea Sterling.
She was stunning, with eyes the color of honey and a smile that could disarm a bomb. As the adopted daughter of the Alpha King, she was royalty here. And she was the only she-wolf who had ever treated me like a human being.
“Azalea,” I managed, clutching my bag tighter. “I… I have to study.”
“Screw studying,” she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. She cornered me against a bookshelf, her expression shifting from friendly to intense. “Why did my father just transfer an amount of money into your account that could buy a small island?”
My blood ran cold. Of course. She would know.
“I…” My mind raced. I couldn’t tell her I was her new stepmother. The thought alone was insane. “I’m doing some translation work for him. Ancient texts. From the library archives.”
Azalea narrowed her eyes, sniffing the air around me. I prayed the scent of her father on me had faded, or that she would mistake it for the ‘work’ I was doing.
“Translation work,” she repeated, skeptical. “Dad doesn’t read. He growls and signs things.”
“It’s very specialized,” I lied, my voice shaking.
She stared at me for a long moment, then shrugged, the tension evaporating as quickly as it had come. “Whatever. If he’s paying, you’re spending. Come on.”
She grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the library, across the quad, and toward the student parking lot.
“Azalea, where are we going?”
“To see your other ‘payment’,” she chirped.
We stopped in the center of the lot. Surrounded by rusted Hondas and dented Toyotas sat a beast. A brand new Aston Martin, painted a lethal gunmetal grey. It gleamed under the afternoon sun like a weapon.
Heads were turning. Students were whispering.
“He had it dropped off an hour ago,” Azalea said, dangling a set of keys in front of my face. “He said your Ford Fiesta was an ‘insult to road safety’.”
I stared at the car in horror. It wasn’t a gift. It was a mark. A giant, flashing neon sign telling the world that Adella Everett was property of the Alpha King.
“I can’t drive this,” I whispered.
“You can, and you will,” Azalea laughed, pressing the keys into my palm. She opened the driver’s side door for me, her eyes dancing with amusement.
“Get in, Mrs. Marshall.”
The air left my lungs. I looked at her, terrified she knew, but she was just grinning, making a joke about her father’s over-the-top generosity. She had no idea that the title wasn’t a punchline.
It was my reality.
I slid into the leather seat, the heavy platinum ring on my finger clinking against the steering wheel, and felt the cage door slam shut.
Rejected Luna, Claimed by the King Chapter 3
Adella POV
The interior of the Aston Martin didn’t smell like new leather. It smelled like him.
Crushed cedar and the ozone of a gathering storm filled the cabin, heavy and suffocating. It was a sensory assault, a reminder that even miles away, Dallas Marshall was wrapping his fingers around my throat. I sat in the driver’s seat, my hands gripping the wheel until my knuckles turned white.
“Connect your phone,” Azalea urged, buckling her seatbelt. “This sound system is insane. I want to hear bass that rattles my teeth.”
I fumbled with my cracked iPhone, plugging it into the sleek console. The system synced instantly, the large touchscreen dashboard lighting up. But before I could select a playlist, a message notification expanded across the entire screen, the letters bold and impossible to ignore.
Braydon: Stop playing games. Come home. You belong here.
The air in the car grew stagnant. The words hung there, glowing with a possessive toxicity that made my stomach churn.
Azalea let out a low whistle. “Wow. That’s not just interested, that’s creepy, obsessive psycho level.” She poked the screen with a manicured nail. “He thinks you’re a lost puppy, doesn’t he? ‘Come home.’ Gross.”
“He doesn’t like losing things he considers his property,” I muttered, quickly disconnecting the phone to banish his words.
“Well, you’re driving a car worth more than his entire house now,” Azalea smirked, leaning back. “Let him choke on that.”
I forced a weak smile, starting the engine. The car purred like a beast waking from slumber. I was fleeing one monster only to drive straight into the lair of another, and the irony tasted like ash in my mouth.
Ten minutes later, we were huddled in a booth at the campus coffee shop. The scent of roasted beans and sugary pastries usually calmed me, but today, my nerves were wire-tight.
“You need to see this,” Azalea said, sliding her phone across the table. Her playful demeanor had vanished, replaced by a sharp, protective edge.
On the screen was The Howler, the Pack’s exclusive social media app. A photo of Katherine Parrish smirked back at me, her arm draped possessively over a brooding Braydon. But it was the caption that made my blood run cold.
Cleaning house. Finally getting rid of the wolfless parasites who think they can climb the ladder by clinging to Alphas. Purity matters.
“She’s talking about me,” I whispered, the shame burning my cheeks. The comments section was already filling with laughing emojis and cruel agreements from other Pack members.
“Don’t worry,” Azalea said, taking a sip of her latte. “I handled it.”
I looked closer. Underneath Katherine’s post, Azalea Sterling-daughter of the Alpha King-had commented a single emoji: a wolf skull.
In our world, that wasn’t just a comment. It was a death threat. It meant you are dead to me.
“Azalea, you shouldn’t have-“
“She’s a bitch, and she’s boring,” Azalea interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. “Besides, you have bigger things to worry about. Like… that.”
She pointed a finger at my neck.
I froze. In my agitation, I must have tugged at the cashmere scarf Dallas had left for me. I quickly tried to readjust it, but Azalea’s hand shot out, stopping me. Her honey-colored eyes widened, her nostrils flaring as she inhaled sharply.
“That’s no bruise from a fall, Adella,” she hissed, leaning in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “That’s a claiming mark.”
Panic seized my chest. The dark, purple mark on the sensitive skin of my neck throbbed under her scrutiny. It was where Dallas’s teeth had grazed me last night, leaving a very obvious, very possessive souvenir.
“I… I walked into a door,” I stammered, the lie tasting sour.
“Bullshit,” Azalea scoffed. “I know what that kind of mark looks like. It reeks of possession.” She narrowed her eyes, scanning my face. “Who is he? And don’t tell me it’s Braydon, because that’s fresh, and it smells like… power.”
I couldn’t tell her. I couldn’t tell the Alpha King’s daughter that her father had bought me, claimed me, and married me in a span of twelve hours.
“It’s… complicated,” I managed, looking down at my coffee. “He’s an older man. Someone… powerful.”
Azalea stared at me for a long moment, the tension stretching thin. Then, unexpectedly, she grinned.
“An older man? A sugar daddy?” She laughed, delighted. “Oh my Goddess, Adella! That is the perfect revenge. Let Braydon rot while you get pampered by some rich, powerful Alpha. I love it.”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. She didn’t know.
Just then, Azalea’s phone buzzed on the table. The screen flashed a caller ID that made her smile vanish instantly: The Bank.
“It’s my dad,” she whispered, her posture straightening reflexively. She answered, her voice shifting from gossip-girl to obedient daughter. “Hi, Dad.”
I watched her face, my heart hammering against my ribs. She listened for a moment, her eyes flicking to me with a confused expression.
“Now? But I have Econ in an hour,” she protested weakly. A pause. The voice on the other end was low, indistinct, but the tone of absolute command was unmistakable. “Okay. Yes, sir. We’re coming.”
She hung up and looked at me, grabbing her bag.
“Change of plans,” Azalea said, her voice tight. “He wants us at the flagship store downtown. Immediately.”
“Us?” I asked, dread pooling in my stomach.
“Yeah. He said you need to be prepped for a dinner tonight.” She looked at me, a flicker of suspicion warring with her confusion. “Adella, what kind of ‘translation work’ requires a gala dress?”
I gripped the edge of the table, the platinum ring on my finger feeling heavier than ever. Dallas wasn’t just keeping me; he was putting me on display.
“I don’t know,” I lied again, standing up on shaky legs.
But I did know. The King was summoning his property.
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