Rejected Little Secret by Lisj

Sitting alone at the kitchen table. I bask in the warmth of the soft morning light streaming through the windows. The grip of my fingers on the edge of my toast tightens, but my mind is elsewhere, preoccupied with the resonating impact of Sammy’s words.

She called me a hypocrite, and her words stung with undeniable truth. I couldn’t help but judge her for succumbing to her True Mate’s advances, but now I find myself entangled in a forbidden affair with Axton, too. How could I have been so oblivious, so naive to believe that I was superior to her?

With each bite of my toast, I can feel the heaviness in my mouth, as if I’m ingesting the bitter truth along with the crumbs. Though Axton and I share intense sexual chemistry, the power of destiny casts a shadow over its importance.

At some point in the future, Axton will stumble upon his True Mate, the individual he is meant to share an everlasting bond with. And when that day comes, what will become of me? Will I be forgotten like a distant memory, left to fade away in the shadow of his newfound love?

Surprisingly, the thought lingers in my mind like a persistent itch, causing a gnawing discomfort in the pit of my stomach. Perhaps I’ve become too familiar with the soothing warmth of Axton’s touch, the security of his embrace, but beneath it all lies a web of falsehoods and trickery.

My appetite wanes as I push my plate away, the clatter of silverware no longer registering in my ears as my thoughts become consumed by uncertainty and fear. As I sit alone in the quiet kitchen, the unbearable thought weighs down on me, becoming a heavy burden that I can’t escape. I pretended that! could keep Axton all to myself, but deep down, I knew it was impossible to deny the truth.

There’s a searing anger bubbling up inside me, a fierce blaze of resentment that feels like it could consume me from within. It’s not fair. None of it is fair. The weight of betrayal bears down on my shoulders, squeezing me with an oppressive force that feels like it could crush me at any moment.

It was all set into motion because someone decided to take something that didn’t belong to them. How could someone betray my trust and take what was rightfully mine? The person I believed in more than anyone else. The question echoed in my head: how could Nadia do this to me? The hurt and confusion consumed my thoughts. How could she turn her back on our friendship so easily, showing no compassion or empathy?All content © N/.ôvel/Dr/ama.Org.

Like a sudden blow to the face, the truth starts to dawn on me. While Nadia may have been the one chosen instead of me, there are others who share the blame as well. No, the true betrayal cuts deep within the confines of one’s own home.

Zeke. My True Mate.

The man I loved and trusted with all my heart. I can’t believe he would be so heartless towards me. I couldn’t understand how he could betray our unbreakable bond and connection by falling for the allure of my best friend.

Zeke’s betrayal hits me like a sharp blade, causing a deep and searing pain that I struggle to bear. His role was to safeguard me, treasure me, and be my unwavering support in moments of hardship. Despite everything, itwas him who tore my world apart, leaving behind shattered fragments that could never be fixed.

I trusted him. I believed in him. In a single moment, he shattered all that we had built, disregarding me as if I were insignificant, a mere pawn in his twisted game of deceit and betrayal..

Standing in the kitchen, I watch as the cook enters, bringing with them a sense of bustling energy. As I watch her, I am impressed by her effortless and accomplished movements. The aroma of freshly baked bread fills the air, mingling with the scent of eggs and bacon.

Finishing my toast, I look up at the cook, who is now extending a piece of paper towards me, a look of annoyance in their eyes. I furrow my brow in confusion, my mind racing with thoughts of what it could possibly be. As I take the note from her hand, I notice the precise handwriting and quickly unfold it, revealing an enticing list of mouthwatering meals.

“What’s this?”

My question escapes my lips as a faint whisper, barely audible. With a bored expression, the cook’s eyes speak volumes of her irritation as she looks at

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“It’s a list of meals for the pack dinner later,” she explains. “Since the Alpha Ascension has concluded, all the packs aside from Blackacre will be leaving tomorrow. We need to make a feast to send them off.”

Nodding, I absorb the information with a detached sense of understanding. With a heavy sigh, I straighten my shoulders and nod to the cook, the clattering of pots and pans echoing in the bustling kitchen.

“I’ll get started right away”

As she exits the kitchen, Linhale deeply, preparing myself m n t a l l y for the upcoming task. Even though I felt a whirlwind of emotions inside me, understood that I had a duty to uphold. The needs of the pack must take precedence over my own pain.

As I tie the apron securely around my waist, the familiar scent of freshly laundered fabric fills my nostrils, heightening my sense of purpose. With each Ingredient I collect and every step I take to prepare the meals, the kitchen becomes a symphony of colors, textures, and enticing smells.

The smell of the fresh fish and shrimp fills the kitchen as 1 begin preparing the seafood dishes, chopping them with precision. The air is filled with the sharp scent of the sea, blending harmoniously with the tantalizing aroma of spices and herbs. Amidst the chaos in my mind, the familiar sights and sounds of the kitchen offer a strange sense of comfort, as I rhythmically chop and stir.

With every dish I create, I devote all my energy and concentration, allowing my emotions to flow into the food. It’s a cathartic process, a way to let go of the pent-up anger and frustration that looms over me. I find a peculiar calmness descending upon me as I work, providing a much-needed break from the internal turmoil

As I finish preparing the last of the dishes, I step back and take in the sight of the perfectly arranged plates and bowls. Despite the turmoil raging within me, I take a moment to savor the comforting smell of success that lingers in the air.

As the day drags on, it feels like a weight on my shoulders, each passing moment bringing a growing sense of tension and anticipation. Moving through the kitchen, the clanging of pots and pans and the chatter of voices only intensify the inner turmoil I’m experiencing. More cooks and kitchen staff shuffle in and out, their frantic footsteps and whispered conversations contributing to the palpable atmosphere of chaos.

Sammy is there too, and her energy feels heavy and oppressive, like a dark cloud. Our eyes avoid meeting, the silence growing louder with each passing moment. I appreciate the temporary relief from our strained relationship, yet I also sense the lingering heaviness of sadness in the air.

Surrounded by the clamor and chaos, I can’t help but feel detached from the commotion.

With each passing hour, the mess hall grows increasingly crowded as people fill the space, their voices creating a cacophony of noise. I grab some trays and prepare to serve them, my movements devoid of emotion, as if I were a machine. As I hold the trays, their heaviness becomes a burden in my hands, making every step a challenge, yet I persevere.

As I navigate through the bustling mess hall, I am acutely aware of the intense scrutiny from the pack, their piercing gazes leaving me uneasy. I try to block out their watchful gaze, directing my attention solely to the task at hand. Everywhere I go, the whispers and murmurs seem to trail behind me, haunting reminder of the rumors that surround me.

Despite my best efforts to remain composed, I can feel the tension building inside me, causing my muscles to tighten like a coiled spring.

As I reach out to serve a tray of food to one of the tables, a strong arm suddenly wraps around my waist, pulling me back into a lap. As soon as the touch makes contact, a shiver runs down my spine, instantly tensing up my muscles. It’s a familiar sensation, one that I’ve grown accustomed to over the years.

Most unmated werewolves are nothing but trouble, and this one is no different.

Hollers and whistles erupt from the table, their laughter reverberating through the crowded mess hall. Their antics make me roll my eyes in annoyance, feeling the frustration building up inside me.

“Let me go.”

I snap, feeling the desperate need to break free/from the unwelcome embrace, but the arms around me only grow stronger, their grip tightening

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“Aw, don’t be like that, sweetheart,” I’m startled by the purring voice behind me, its false charm immediately apparent. “We’re just having a bit of fun. Since we’re going to leave soon, let’s make some unforgettable memories, shall we?”

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Suppressing my rage, I clenched my teeth tightly, refusing to let it consume me. It might have been fun for them, but for me, it was anything but enjoyable. I’m exhausted from constantly being treated like a toy, tired of enduring the leering gazes and objectification from the group. Despite my best efforts to assert myself, it feels like I’m constantly struggling against the odds.

His hands on my waist explore unchecked, each touch igniting a repulsive sensation that spreads through me. Despite my efforts to resist, their hold on me grows stronger, their fingers piercing my skin with a claw-like grip.

“Let me go,” I repeat, my voice low and menacing, “I don’t have time for this.”

Despite my efforts to speak, my words are rendered meaningless by the pack’s raucous laughter. They continue to stare and mock, their hungry eyes scanning my body with unmistakable desire. I feel trapped in a cage, my heart pounding with the sense of impending danger as predators close in.

Desperation rises within me, blending with the simmering anger and frustration that have been lingering beneath the surface. I want to let out a piercing scream, to unleash my anger on the pack and make them comprehend the agony they’re inflicting upon me. But I know that satisfying their twisted desires would only escalate the situation,

With each passing moment of unwanted attention, I become more overwhelmed by a sense of helplessness, as if I am being pulled under by a suffocating wave. Closing my eyes, I strive to escape the jarring sounds and the uncomfortable brush of hands that sends a shiver down my spine. No matter how much effort I exert, the harsh reality of my situation remains inescapable.

Out of nowhere, a voice slices through the noisy chaos, its tone sharp and authoritative.

The voice, which I recognized instantly, spoke with authority and determination, making it clear that there was no room for argument. I open my eyes and find him standing right in front of me, his piercing gaze sending shivers down my spine. The pack falls silent, the echoes of their laughter fading into the air as they cower under his intense stare.

“That’s enough. Let her go.”

His voice carried authority, echoing through the air with the sharpness of a cracking whip. I feel the arms around me loosen their grip, causing me to stumble forward, my heart pounding fiercely in my chest.

With quick and purposeful steps, I gather up the tray of food, aware of the pack’s watchful silence. Without glancing behind me, I understand that looking back would only invite additional scrutiny and humiliation. However, I do glance back and express my gratitude towards him.

I quietly mouthed a few simple words of thanks, my gratitude unable to find its voice.

He mouthed some words back, silently forming them with his lips:

“Meet me later, when the sun starts to set, okay?”