Alpha's Rejected Mate

Avery's POV

The pain came out of nowhere, sharp and relentless, like claws raking through my soul. I stumbled, clutching at my chest as if I could physically hold Nova, my wolf, inside. But she wasn't there. Her presence, which had been my constant companion since my first shift, was slipping away.

What was happening? What the hell was happening?

"Nova!" I called out in my mind, my voice trembling with desperation. But the only response was silence—a void so hollow it felt like the universe had turned its back on me.

The torment wasn't just emotional; it was physical too. My legs gave way, and I crumpled onto the cold, wooden floor of my room. Waves of pain rolled over me, each sharper than the last, until my vision blurred and darkness consumed me.

I woke to the smell of antiseptic and the soft hum of a heartbeat monitor. Blinking against the sunlight streaming through the curtains, I realized I wasn't in my room anymore. The bed beneath me was firmer, the sheets crisp and unfamiliar.

"Finally awake?" A familiar voice broke through the haze. I turned my head and found Charles sitting on a chair beside me, his stethoscope draped around his neck like always.

"Charles?" My voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

"You scared the hell out of me, Ave." His hazel eyes were full of concern as he leaned closer. "What happened?"

The memories hit me like a punch to the gut. "It's Nova," I croaked, my throat dry. "She... she's gone."

His brows knitted together. "Gone? What do you mean, gone?"

"I mean, I can't feel her anymore. She was in pain, screaming, and then—nothing. Just... nothing."

Charles frowned, pulling out his penlight to check my pupils. "Did you hit your head when you fell?"

"Seriously, Charles?" I snapped, though my voice lacked any real heat. "This isn't about a damn concussion. Something happened to Nova, and I need to know what."

He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I'll run some tests, but for now, you need to stay calm."

"Calm?" I echoed, incredulous. "How the hell am I supposed to be calm when my wolf is missing? This isn't like losing my keys or misplacing my phone, Charles. This is my soulmate we're talking about!"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I get it. This is serious. But stressing out won't help. Let me do my job, okay?"

I flopped back against the pillows, my body still weak and trembling. "Fine," I muttered. "But hurry."

The minutes dragged like hours, and the unease in my chest only grew. I couldn't just sit there, waiting for answers that might never come. I needed comfort, reassurance—someone to tell me it would be okay.

Without thinking, I reached for my phone and dialed James.

It rang twice before he picked up. "What?" His tone was clipped, impatient.

"James," I breathed, relief flooding through me at the sound of his voice. "Something's wrong. It's Nova. She's—"

"Wait," he interrupted, his voice growing colder. "Where are you?"

"At Charles's house," I said, confusion creeping in. "He's running tests—"

"You're what?" His words came out like a growl, sharp and cutting. "You're at Charles's house?"

"Yes, but—"

"Unbelievable," he muttered, cutting me off again. "I should've known you'd run to him the first chance you got."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, my voice rising.

"You tell me, Avery. Why the hell are you so cozy with him that you're at his place?"

"Are you serious right now?" I snapped, anger flaring. "I'm here because I collapsed, James. Because I'm scared out of my mind, and I thought my mate would care!"

"Yeah, well, maybe I'm tired of cleaning up your messes."

The line went dead, leaving me staring at the phone in stunned silence. James's cold words still echoed in my mind, like shards of glass slicing through my chest.

What was his problem?

I sat on the edge of Charles's bed, staring blankly at the floor, the phone still clutched tightly in my hand. My thoughts raced, searching for answers. Why had he reacted like that? I wasn't feeling well, and Charles was just helping me. Wasn't that the whole point of having a mate? To support each other through everything?

James had never been the warmest person, but I couldn't fathom why he'd lash out at me over something so trivial. My brows furrowed as I replayed the conversation in my mind, dissecting every word, every pause, every hint of emotion.

That accusation had stung more than I cared to admit. Was he jealous? Suspicious? No, that didn't make sense. He knew Charles and I had grown up together, that our relationship was purely platonic. James had always seemed confident, almost indifferent when it came to my friendships. So why the sudden change?

The faint buzzing in my head grew louder, the weight of my confusion pressing down on me. My fingers loosened, and the phone slipped from my grasp, landing with a soft thud on the mattress.

I pressed a hand to my forehead, closing my eyes. My chest felt tight, my pulse erratic. Maybe it was the stress. Or maybe it was the lingering effects of losing Nova. Either way, my body felt as fragile as glass, ready to shatter under the slightest pressure.

I lay back against the pillows, my limbs heavy and uncooperative. The room tilted slightly, and I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the nausea to pass.

"Just rest," I murmured to myself. "James will come around. He always does."

But even as I whispered the words, they felt hollow.

The bond between mates wasn't just physical—it was emotional, spiritual, a connection forged by the Goddess herself. And yet, for the first time, I felt a deep chasm between us. A space I couldn't bridge, no matter how hard I tried.

I shifted, pulling the blanket up to my chin. Sleep would help. It had to. Maybe this was all a nightmare, some cruel trick of the mind brought on by my weakened state. I just needed to close my eyes, and everything would be fine when I woke up.

My eyelids grew heavy, and I began to drift, the haze of exhaustion pulling me under.

Then I heard the door open.

I blinked, the sound jolting me awake. My vision was blurry, but I could make out the silhouette of a tall figure standing in the doorway.

"James?" I called weakly, my voice barely above a whisper.

He stepped into the room, and my breath caught in my throat.

He wasn't alone.

A woman clung to his arm, her figure slender and graceful, her dark hair cascading down her back like a river of ink. She glanced around the room, her sharp, calculating gaze sweeping over me like I was some kind of nuisance.

James didn't look at me. His expression was stone-cold, his jaw clenched tightly.

"James," I said again, my voice trembling. I sat up, clutching the blanket as if it could protect me from whatever was happening. "What's going on?"

He still didn't answer, his attention fixed elsewhere as he guided the woman inside. The way she leaned into him, her body so close to his—it was a sight that made my stomach twist painfully.

I wanted to speak, to demand an explanation, but the words caught in my throat. All I could do was watch as my world began to unravel before my eyes.