Page 3 of Rejected by My Shadow Alpha (Mate to the Fallen #1)

Ruby

Mark's car reeked of leather and his choking cologne.

I rolled the window down, letting the night air slap my face.

I had done it. I had left. I took another glance in the rearview mirror.

It was still just highway and darkness, but I didn't trust it.

Not with my father's reach. He had to be looking for me by now.

I couldn't stay in this car. It was Mark's and too easy to trace.

I spotted a rest stop and veered off, parking behind a rusted truck. My heart pounded. I had to disappear. Grabbing my purse, I slipped out and headed for a dingy shop I'd found on the map. The clerk didn't even blink when I handed him a wad of cash for a fake ID and a burner phone.

I used it to call a cab.

Twenty minutes later, I was in the back of a beat-up Corolla, riding farther from my father's world and everything I was supposed to be. I leaned my head against the window. Neon lights blurred past, but I didn't see them.

All I saw was him.

Drew.

His touch still clung to my skin—warm, cruel, and unforgettable. I'd let him in. I let him mark me. I had believed the bond meant something and that maybe fate was right. Then he looked me in the eye and shattered me.

"You're Ruby Alfonso. Daughter of the man who burned my pack to ash. Marking you was…necessary."

That was all I was to him: a symbol, a target. He never saw me. He never cared. He didn't ask who I was or try to get to know me. All he saw was my bloodline and my father's crimes. He used our bond as a weapon, not out of love or fate, just punishment. He never gave us a chance.

That's what broke me. It wasn't the rejection, but the fact that he felt the bond and still chose hate. I blinked back tears as the city faded behind me.

Six Weeks Ago…

I looked like a sculpted fantasy. Flawless, poised, almost unreal.

Every inch of me seemed to have aligned with maddening perfection: the navy-blue gown hugged my body like it had been carved onto me, sequins catching the light like stars against midnight.

My hair tumbled in soft, obedient waves, my lips painted the kind of red that would turn heads.

My makeup artist had outdone herself, no doubt.

She had painted me like a masterpiece, airbrushed every flaw into oblivion, and left behind a woman that even I barely recognized.

It was unsettling. Not tonight. Not with him on my mind.

Drew. Damn him.

His silence. Those storm-blue eyes that saw too much. I told myself I hated him, but his presence stirred something deep in me. I remembered the night he caught me in the parking lot, the heat of his touch, and the way his eyes locked onto mine like we were already bound.

Who was he? He had no name, no scent, no past, no mention of his name from the elders…nothing. In my father's world, that made him nothing. Yet I couldn't forget him. Couldn't unfeel the way he awakened my wolf.

I adjusted the bodice of my dress and forced a breath through clenched teeth. The gala would be harmless. It was just a parade of egos and applause, with enough wine to drown my nerves.

But the moment I walked into that grand hall, I knew I had made a mistake. I knew I shouldn't have worn this dress.

He was already there, leaning against the far wall in a tailored black suit that should've been illegal and shirt slightly undone like rules were for other people. His eyes found me. They were burning, unblinking, and devastating.

Every nerve in my body stood at attention. That gaze didn't ask for permission. It took pleasure in accessing every inch of my dress and curve of my body. I hated how my knees responded and my heartbeat went wild like it was trying to beat its way to him.

I looked away. I had to look away, and I did everything not to look at him.

I sipped the champagne in my glass just to keep my hands busy and nodded at Dr. Castor's story about his latest research trial.

I smiled at a passing nurse I barely remembered and even laughed too loudly at something I didn't hear—anything to avoid acknowledging the heat crawling across my skin.

The weight of his gaze followed me from one corner of the ballroom to the next, dark and unreadable.

I refused to meet it.

"Care for a dance?" a voice asked.

Grateful for the distraction, I turned and saw one of the young interns smiling nervously. I offered him my hand, forcing a grin. "Sure."

We joined the others as the orchestra struck up a gentle waltz, the rhythm sweeping us into polite spins and steps. I tried to stay present, focus on the music, and the way the chandelier light glimmered in the room, but the back of my neck tingled.

He was watching me.

When we rotated partners in the pattern of the waltz, I nearly lost my breath. There he was, tall, still, and devastating in that black-on-black suit, eyes like a storm locked on me. My next partner twirled me away before I could react, but by the next pass, I was face-to-face with him.

Drew.

His hand found my waist, warm and commanding. My pulse jumped.

"I didn't know you danced," I murmured.

His fingers tightened slightly, not possessive, just present. "I didn't. Until now."

The music shifted, slowing to a sultry rumba, and we moved in time to the sensual beat. His body was too close, and heat radiated off him, mixing with that cedar wood scent that haunted my dreams.

"You've been avoiding me," he said quietly, his breath brushing my cheek.

"I've been mingling," I replied, my voice cooler than I felt.

His gaze dropped to my lips, then slowly returned to my eyes. "You look dangerously beautiful tonight," he said, his voice low and rich, like it came from deep in his chest.

I arched my eyebrow. "And you look like trouble."

His lips twitched, but there was no amusement in his eyes, only heat. And hunger. And something I could not define.

His thumb brushed my lower back. The contact nearly broke me.

Every breath was tight in my lungs. My body was hyper aware of him; of the strength in his arms, the way his gaze locked mine like it was the only thing holding him together.

Something primal shifted between us, something old and familiar.

I could feel his wolf pacing just beneath his skin. Mine answered.

The song ended.

I stepped back too quickly, nearly stumbling.

"Excuse me," I whispered, turning before I embarrassed myself further.

I pushed through the ballroom doors, heart thudding, lungs desperate for air. The terrace was blessedly quiet. Cool night air brushed against my skin like an old friend. Cold air bit my cheeks and filled my lungs, clearing my head. Footsteps. Slow. Controlled. I knew he was the one behind me.

I didn't turn. "What do you want, Drew?" I murmured.

"To stop pretending," he said behind me.

I closed my eyes. His voice was low and certain, a dangerous whisper that danced down my spine. "You're drawn to me," he continued, "the way I'm drawn to you. You can feel it, can't you?"

My breath caught. I hated him. I hated how he made my pulse race, and I hated how much I wanted him to kiss me.

"You're messing with my head," I whispered.

He shook his head. "No. I'm waking it up. You are my mate," he said softly.

Before I could reply, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my cheek. My skin tingled. I didn't pull away. His fingers lingered and slid down to my neck, where my pulse throbbed violently.

"You feel it too," he said quietly.

"I feel something," I whispered. "But I don't even know you, Drew. I don't know where you came from or what you want from me."

His gaze didn't waver. "You don't need to know everything to recognize what's already yours," he said, stepping closer. His voice was low and steady. "Your body knows me. Your wolf knows mine, and you've felt it since the moment we met."

I opened my mouth to protest, but no sound came because he was right. I had felt it, that first spark of heat across the room. The ache. The knowing.

"I don't want this," I whispered, but even I could hear the lie in it.

He tilted my chin up with one finger, and my breath caught. "Maybe not with your head," he murmured. "But every part of you…every part that matters…wants this."

And then his mouth was on mine.

It wasn't gentle. It was full of hunger, of weeks of restraint breaking. My hands were on his chest before I could think. His lips moved against mine like he already knew the shape of me, like this was inevitable.

I kissed him back. Goddess help me, I wanted more. But reality sliced through desire, sharp and cruel. I pulled away, breathless. "We can't."

"We already did."

I shook my head, taking a step back. "Someone could see…"

He didn't answer. Instead, he stepped back and extended his hand. "Come."

I stared at it. "You think I'm just going to follow you like some helpless little…?"

"Come, Ruby."

The way he said my name…My body moved before my pride could stop it because some part of me, wild and wolf and woman, wanted to follow him.

And so, I did. He led me down the hall, past closed doors and portraits of dead donors, until we reached the resting lounges, private rooms for on-call doctors. He opened one.

I stepped in, and the door clicked shut behind me.

The silence between us cracked open like a dam breaking.

In the next heartbeat, Drew was on me, his mouth crashing into mine with a rawness that stole the breath from my lungs.

His kisses weren't careful. It wasn't cautious.

It was desperate and hungry, like he'd been starving for me for years.

And Goddess help me, I kissed him back.

My hands flew to his shoulders, gripping him like I would fall apart if I let go. He tasted like intoxicating wine, dizzy and arousing. His lips molded to mine with urgency, but there was something else, too, a reverence that stole into each stroke of his tongue.

My back hit the wall, and I moaned into him, my fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed me like he needed this to breathe.