Rejection and The Veiled Hound

MAEVE

"You used me!" The accusation ripped through the heavy silence of the Alpha's office, followed instantly by my bitter, agonizing sobs. I stared at the man who was supposed to be my destiny, my chest heaving violently as tears streamed down my face. "Mating with me was nothing but a calculated ladder to power, Cormac! Your Pack only climbed the ranks because of my family's backing. And now? Now that you've secured your ambition, you just throw me away!"

I gasped for air, angrily wiping the tears from my cheeks, though they refused to stop falling. "You don't need the ugly girl anymore, is that it? You were perfectly willing to claim me a year ago when you needed me!"

Cormac leaned back against his massive mahogany desk, crossing his muscular arms. He didn't look guilty. He didn't look sorrowful. He just rolled his eyes with a chilling, utter apathy that made my stomach churn.

"Oh, please, spare me the theatrics," he scoffed, his voice dripping with absolute condescension. "Don't stand there and act like you didn't know this was coming. Did you honestly believe I'd keep you around? That I'd actually make you the Luna of my Pack?" He let out a harsh, cruel breath, his eyes raking over my face with profound physical disgust. "I can barely stomach the sight of you, Maeve. How exactly did you expect me to take you to Alpha meetings? To parade you in front of the council and other dignitaries? You are absolutely disgusting."

His words were like physical blows to my chest, but I refused to look away. "I did not choose this!" I cried out, my voice cracking under the weight of my despair. "I didn't give myself this gruesome scar! And you promised me, Cormac. When we mated, you swore you would take me to the best specialists. You promised to fix it. You did absolutely nothing!"

"Why would I?" He sneered, stepping closer, his imposing Alpha presence looming and oppressive. "Even your own family doesn't give a damn enough to take you to doctors or fix your face, and you expected me to foot the bill? Quit dreaming, Maeve. It's pathetic."

My vision blurred again. Being called ugly wasn't new. It was a vicious title I had carried since childhood, ever since that horrific day a silver-base branding iron had been pressed deep into the side of my face. I hadn't asked for the gruesome, twisted flesh that marred my features. I hadn't asked to be permanently branded a monster. But coming from my mate—the man the Moon Goddess supposedly designed for me—it shattered whatever was left of my fractured soul.

For an entire year, we had lived as total strangers under the exact same roof. A whole year of being mated, and I was still a virgin. Cormac had been so revolted by my appearance from day one that he couldn't even bring himself to lay a single finger on me. The mating bond was supposed to mean everything, yet he couldn't even stand to touch my skin.

"I thought you were different," I whispered, the heartbreak turning acidic on my tongue. "I truly loved you. I wanted to build a life with you. But you're just a monster." I glared at him, pouring every ounce of my broken spirit into the gaze. "I pray to the Goddess that you pay for this cruelty someday."

Cormac threw his head back, a hollow, mocking laugh echoing violently off the walls. "Pay? Me?" He smirked, puffing out his broad chest with arrogant pride. "I am the third most powerful Alpha in the region now, Maeve. I am completely untouchable. My Pack is at the top of the food chain, while your pathetic family grovels beneath me. There is absolutely nothing you or anyone else can do to me anymore. You have always been worthless, and you will remain worthless."

He walked over to the office door and yanked it open, the bright hallway light spilling into the dim room. His glare turned to absolute ice.

"Listen closely. I've rejected you. You've accepted it. There's one final formality left with the registry, but as far as I'm concerned, you are nothing to me. So take your disgusting face out of my Pack this very second. Get out before I have my guards violently throw you onto the dirt where you belong."

I didn't say another word. There was nothing left to say. Utterly shattered and hollowed out by the rejection, I turned my back on the man I once truly loved and walked out into the cold.

***

My legs carried me on autopilot, dragging my broken spirit all the way to the borders of my father's territory. It was the only place I could think of. A sanctuary. A safe haven. I hadn't been back home since I moved to Cormac's Pack a year ago, but I desperately hoped my father would take me in. I had absolutely nowhere else to go.

The border guards recognized me and let me pass through the towering iron gates, but when I dragged my exhausted body up the sweeping stone steps of my childhood home and rang the bell of the main lounge, the heavy oak door only opened a fraction.

It wasn't my father standing there. It was my beautiful stepsister, Valerie, with her mother standing right behind her, arms crossed defensively.

"Valerie, please," I begged, my voice hoarse. I quickly explained what Cormac had done—the brutal rejection, the taunts, the banishment from his lands. "I just need a place to stay. Let me talk to Dad."

Instead of sympathy, Valerie's flawless face contorted into a sneer of absolute disdain. She stepped forward, physically blocking the entrance so I couldn't even glimpse the warmth of the foyer.

"Go back and grovel to Cormac," Valerie spat callously, her eyes flashing with pure malice. "Get on your knees and beg him to take you back if you have to. There is no room for you here, Maeve."

"I have nowhere else to go!" I pleaded, my chest tightening with fresh, suffocating panic. "This is my home too! Please, just have some pity."

"Not anymore," her mother chimed in coldly, looking down her nose at me as if I were vermin. "You're an embarrassment to this family. You always have been, and we were thrilled when Cormac took you off our hands."

It was the brutal truth. Ever since my own biological mother abandoned me when I was just four years old, leaving me completely alone in the world, I had been the family's greatest disgrace. My father had quickly chosen a new mate and replaced us, and once the silver burn scarred my face, he became even more distant. He couldn't even look at me without flinching.

Valerie didn't even blink at my desperate tears. She turned her head toward the porch. "Guards! Escort her off the premises immediately. Make sure she doesn't try to sneak back in."

Two massive wolves in human form stepped out from the shadows, grabbing my arms without an ounce of gentleness. They dragged me backward down the steps and out toward the gates as the heavy front door slammed shut behind me. The resounding click of the lock was a final, undeniable verdict. My stepfamily didn't want me. My mate didn't want me. I was completely, absolutely isolated.

***

By evening, I found myself sitting in the dimly lit, smoke-filled corner of the Veiled Hound.

It was an exclusive underground bar, thick with the scent of potent liquor, expensive cigars, and heavy pheromones. Here, the bartenders mixed potions strong enough to get a full-grown wolf blackout drunk, but more importantly, patrons were required to wear elaborate masks. It had been my favorite sanctuary for years. Behind my half-face masquerade mask, I wasn't the ugly, scarred girl who terrified children and repulsed mates. If people had to see my bare face, they would just assume I was drinking myself to death because I was hideous. But here, I was just another anonymous soul allowed to exist without facing the brutal judgment of society.

"You're too ugly." The echoes of Cormac's voice played on a relentless loop in my head. I sat alone on a cracked leather stool, staring blankly into a glass of amber liquid. The agony of his betrayal cut so deep it felt hard to breathe. He was untouchable now, and I was an unwanted outcast who didn't even have a family to return to. Nobody could ever want me. What was the point of even living?

I downed the last burning drop of my drink and gripped the edge of the bar, preparing to stand up and leave this miserable existence behind, when a voice slid smoothly through the loud, pulsing music.

"A refill for the lady, please."

I froze, turning my head in surprise to find a mysterious man sliding effortlessly into the empty stool beside me. The bartender didn't even ask for payment; he just nodded respectfully and hurried to pour me another glass.

I furrowed my brows, taking in the stranger. Even with the sleek, dark mask covering the upper half of his face, everything about him screamed extraordinary wealth and dominance. His suit was a custom Mason Étoile, tailored so perfectly it emphasized the broad, muscular expanse of his chest and shoulders. The dim tavern lighting caught the unmistakable gleam of the Aristo Tempus watch strapped to his thick wrist—a timepiece that an average wolf could never afford in three lifetimes.

"You've been coming here to drink alone for quite some time now," he said casually, startling me.

His voice... It was a deep, dark velvet rumble that sent an involuntary shiver straight down my spine. It was incredibly soothing and utterly impossible to ignore.

I shrank back a little, lowering my eyes, feeling a sudden wave of shame. "I don't know what you're talking about. How can you even tell?"

He tapped a single, long finger against his own jaw, gesturing toward me. "Your mask. You've never changed it."

My cheeks flushed hot under the fabric. "Oh. I guess that means you come here a lot, too."

"I do," he replied smoothly, leaning an elbow on the sticky bar counter as if he were sitting on a royal throne. "It's not quite up to my usual standard, but it's my favorite place. I like it when I don't get judged by anyone."

The bartender returned, placing a fresh drink in front of me. I mumbled a quiet thank you to the stranger before taking a nervous sip from my glass.

"From the look of things, you must be deeply troubled," he noted, his gaze piercing right through the eyeholes of my mask, sensing the chaotic inner turmoil tearing me apart. "I am, too. So, why don't we make a deal, Miss? Have fun for the night, lose ourselves entirely, and go our separate ways by morning?"

My breath hitched, and I stared at him in pure shock. He was offering a one-night affair! A complete, no-strings-attached hookup.

"But y-you don't even know me," I muttered shyly, my heart hammering wildly against my ribs.

"I do not need to," he dismissed with effortless arrogance. "It is simply for pleasure. Strictly for fun."

There was something undeniably magnetic about the way he spoke. I could tell he was a man who didn't care about societal rules or the feelings of others; he was only out to get exactly what he wanted.

"Although, I must warn you," he tsked, leaning a fraction closer. His scent—something dark, intoxicating, and intensely male—wrapped around my senses. "It will be a long night. I have severe problems finishing inside a woman. In fact, I never finish. So, like I said, it is simply for the fun of it."

I blinked, thoroughly stunned. He couldn't climax during intimacy? But I had always heard that was the ultimate goal, the absolute best part of sex. How could a man as commanding as him enjoy intimacy if he had never finished with a woman before? The thought of it was bizarrely sad.

Despite how absurd the situation sounded, a deep, hidden part of me flared to life. I was incredibly tempted. I was a virgin whose own destined mate despised her physically. No one had ever liked me because of my gruesome scar. I possessed a burning, agonizing curiosity about intimacy, about what it felt like to have a man's hands on my body.

After a few more moments of his smooth, convincing tone washing over me, my crippling insecurity crashed down on me. The twisted flesh on my cheek burned like a brand. I knew that if he pulled off my mask, he wouldn't see a willing woman. He would see a horrific monster. He would run away in pure disgust, just like Cormac. Just like every other man.

I stared down at my lap, utterly desperate for just one single taste of affection.

"Can we..." I hesitated, my voice barely a whisper. "Can we keep our masks on? The entire time?" *You'll hate me just like the others if you see how ugly I am.*

The wealthy stranger didn't laugh. He didn't question it. He merely gave a casual shrug of his broad shoulders.

"Your wish is my command, Princess."

The endearment slammed into my chest, churning my stomach with a violent mix of longing and gut-wrenching guilt. *Princess.* He had absolutely no idea he was about to sleep with someone who looked like a monster. If he knew what hid beneath this mask, he would be horrified.

I dug my nails into my palms, fighting back the hot prickle of tears. I knew I was deceiving him, but looking at his outstretched hand, I realized that sometimes, I genuinely just wished to be treated like a princess.