Rejected by Her Mate, Claimed by Four Alphas

CHAPTER 8

Alpha Darius's POV

"Alpha Darius," the warrior whispered, fear evident in his voice.

I ignored him. My attention was fixed solely on the bloodied woman lying on the ground. I had been observing her for longer than she realized. From the shadows of the forest, I had watched her fight against the Shadowcrest warriors earlier, before they cornered her in this clearing.

Despite her injuries, she had fought with skill and determination. Her movements, though hampered by pain and blood loss, showed training and instinct. She had taken down two warriors before her strength gave out. Impressive for anyone, let alone a female wolf who was clearly at her limit.

She had trespassed into my territory, neutral ground that I claimed and patrolled regularly. Any other day, this would mean death for the intruder.

But today was different.

Her scent had drawn me here. Not just the metallic tang of blood, though there was plenty of that. Something else, something that called to my wolf in a way I had never experienced before.

I stood naked after my shift, unconcerned with such trivial matters. Nudity meant nothing to werewolves. Power, strength, dominance, these were what mattered. And this woman, despite her broken state, radiated all three.

I studied her carefully. Deep gashes crossed her chest and side. Her shoulder was torn open, muscle exposed beneath. Blood soaked her tattered clothes and pooled beneath her. Her eyes were lowered, not meeting mine, a mixture of exhaustion and resignation in them.

Pitiful, yet somehow still strong. Most would be begging for mercy or crying in pain. She simply lay there, spent but unbroken.

My wolf stirred within me, unusually interested in this dying stranger.

"Mine," he growled inside my mind, the possessiveness taking me by surprise.

I felt a flash of irritation at my wolf's reaction. Now wasn't the time for distractions.

"Who are you?" I demanded, my voice carrying the full weight of my authority.

"Clara," she whispered, blood bubbling at the corner of her lips. Her eyes still avoided mine, fixed on a point beyond my shoulder. "Clara Ashburn."

I turned my attention back to the Shadowcrest warriors who still lingered at the edge of the clearing. They shifted nervously under my gaze, caught between their fear of me and whatever mission had driven them to cross borders.

"You are trespassing on my claimed territory," I said coldly. Anger burned in my chest, though my voice remained controlled. These fools had dared to enter my lands without permission. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't tear your throats out where you stand."

The bravest of them stepped forward slightly, though still keeping a safe distance. His face was pale with fear, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool night air.

"This doesn't concern Shadowfang Pack, Alpha Darius. She's a rogue, a traitor to our Alpha. We have orders to..."

"Your orders mean nothing in my territory." I let my power fill the clearing, a pressure that made them shrink back instinctively. I enjoyed watching them cower. Fear was a useful tool, one I had mastered long ago. "Your Alpha should know better than to send his dogs hunting across borders. Especially into land that I patrol."

The warriors exchanged nervous glances. My reputation was well-known throughout all territories. There was a reason they called me warlord, a title I had earned through blood and strategy. I had built Shadowfang Pack from nothing, turning it into a force that even the oldest packs feared.

"Alpha Jaden has promised a reward for her head," one of them said, his voice shaking. "She killed our packmates."

I felt a surge of grudging respect for the woman bleeding out on the ground. So she had fought back against those sent to kill her. Good. Weakness disgusted me.

I let my eyes flash with power, enjoying how they flinched. "And I promise a war if you continue this hunt on my land. Is your Alpha prepared for that?"

The question hung in the air between us. Everyone knew the answer. Jaden Silverstein was no match for me or my pack. Shadowcrest had numbers, but Shadowfang had warriors born and bred for battle. I had personally trained each one, breaking them down and rebuilding them into perfect killers.

I made a swift decision, tired of this conversation and suddenly eager to speak with the woman alone.

I whistled once, sharply. From the shadows, three of my elite warriors emerged. They had been following at a distance, as they always did when I patrolled.

"Kill them," I ordered simply, satisfaction coursing through me as I watched fear bloom on the warriors' faces.

My warriors moved with deadly precision. The Shadowcrest wolves tried to flee, but they had no chance. Within moments, their bodies lay scattered across the clearing, throats torn out, eyes staring sightlessly at the sky.

I turned back to Clara, whose eyes had widened slightly at the swift execution. Her body tensed, fear finally finding its way through her exhaustion. For the first time, she raised her eyes to mine, then quickly looked away again, as if the sight of me was too much to bear.

"Why?" she whispered, her voice weak, trembling slightly. "Why help me?"

I knelt beside her, examining her wounds more carefully. She had lost too much blood. Without immediate help, she would die within the hour. Despite her pitiful state, I couldn't help but admire her resilience. She should have been dead already, yet here she was, still fighting to live.

"Why were they hunting you?" I asked instead of answering her question. My voice was hard, demanding. I had never been one for gentleness. "What did you do to make your Alpha send warriors into my territory?"

She hesitated, her eyes darting away. "Nothing. They were mistaken."

Anger flared inside me. I hated lies, hated weakness of character even more than physical weakness. My wolf growled, equally displeased.

I moved closer, my naked body just inches from hers. With one hand, I grasped her chin, tilting her face to mine.

Her skin was cold under my fingers, her pulse fluttering like a trapped bird. I leaned down until our faces were nearly touching, my fingers pressing into her jaw with just enough pressure to make my point.

"I can smell a lie," I said softly, my voice more threatening for its quietness. "I've killed people for less than lying to my face. Try again."