Alpha’s Thrice Rejectedd Mate By Ida Rowe

Chapter 9 

Today was the rejection day. 

I sat on my childhood bed with my knees pulled to my chest. With all the dolls and plush toys, it was the only way I could fit on the mattress. 

Hale had not come for me again over the past few days. Though he claimed that we would eat, sleep, and stay together for a whole week, it seemed like that he had overestimated his endurance. I supposed it was because of the disaster in the training center. If I were Alpha, 1 would probably have avoided me as well. 

For days, I’d simply sat in this room, reminiscing. 

I overestimated my sanity as well. It was impossible to search, to investigate, to catch a clue about the truth of my father when I was here. 

Here. In this house. Memories of Hale and I digging up worms and putting them in the governess’s bed. Hale and I’sneaking cookies out of the kitchen while the cook chased us with a ladle. My father sitting Hale and me on his knee, chastising us while at the same time trying not to smile. 

My father’s smile. Hale’s smile.. 

It was torture. 

I was relieved when the rejection ceremony day finally arrived. Of course, I’d lost track of the dates, so it was only when a maid knocked, then came in with a dress that I realized the time had come 

“I’m to help you get ready,” the maid said, a note of derision in her voice. 

“I don’t suppose I get to have make–up on my cheek, I prodded, already knowing the answer. 

“No. You must wear y 

your shame for all to see, the maid replied. She seemed satisfied with her answer. 

“Oh, well,” I said with a shrug. “I guess the third time’s a charm.” 

The maid did not laugh at my little joke. I wasn’t sure if it was because I didn’t laugh either, the maid didn’t have a sense of humor, or the maid simply didn’t like me. I was leaning toward the latter. 

With a soft sigh, I stripped out of my traitor warrior’s clothing and folded the camo pants and brown shirt neatly on the bed. My boots were already sitting in front of the bed. I figured it would make life easier for whoever was moving me back to the dormitories after the ceremony. 

“Arms up,” the maid commanded, and I put my arms in the air as a tight, white dress was slithered over my b*dy. It had a slit from the hem to halfway up the thigh. 

A wedding dress and a rejection dress were basically the same! One just ended in disappointment. 

I wondered if they’d let me burn it once the ceremony was over. 

“Hair,” the maid said, wrenching the hairband out of my ponytail and clawing at the black waves with a brush. My head snapped back and forth with the force of her pulling the brush through my hair, several hairs snapped, and my scalp felt like it was on fire. 

But I didn’t want to give the maid the satisfaction of knowing she was causing me pain, so I said nothing. 

The maid left my hair loose around my shoulders, a sour look on her face. It was thick, pretty even in the mirror. But I didn’t feel pretty. With three scars marring my cheek, I didn’t feel pretty at all. 

“Make–up,” the maid grynted and began attacking my face. 

I closed my eyes, and gritted my teeth as I felt her brush a pencil over my scars. If I had to guess, I was pretty sure she was highlighting them. 

“There,” she said smugly and I opened my eyes. 

Sure enough, the scars were more pronounced than ever. 

“Thank you,” I told her sweetly, and she pursed her l*ps. Clearly, she’d been hoping for more of a reaction from me. 

“Here,” she said, tossing me a l*pstick tube. “I figure you can manage this by yourself.” 

She stalked out while I uncapped the l*pstick. Harlot red. Figured. 

Tapplied the l*pstick carefully. If I was being rejected today, I was at least going to look presentable. 

As I looked in the mirror, I smoothed my hands over my dress, then over my untamed locks. I was glad they didn’t have any more waves than they did. Otherwise, it would have been unmanageable. 

The maid returned with more maids shortly thereafter. They may as well have been guards leading me to the gallows as they surrounded me and led me to the ceremonial grounds. 

As we walked, I couldn’t help but remember the good years with Mason Hale. How we used to laugh. How I’d once thought, as a foolish child, we might be mated someday. 

I found that last thought terribly ironic and sad. I wished I’d had the opportunity to talk with Hale and find out why he hated. me so much. I assumed it was because of my father’s betrayal–that was the obvious answer, anyway–but it would still have been nice to have that conversation. 

And I wanted to know more about the circumstances surrounding my father’s dark act. I just couldn’t believe he chose his path for no reason. Ruined his future, and mine, for no reason. But, try as I might, I was unable to uncover any of the evidence I’d been looking for in the time I was back in the castle proper. 

I’d be going back to the Traitors‘ Cave once the rejection ceremony was over, given the fact Shawn had agreed to marry me, but that just put me further away from my goal. And… further away from Hale. Though I didn’t know why the second. bothered me so much. 

When we reached the ceremonial grounds, my thoughts dissipated. My packmates were lined on either side of a long path, leading up to a stone altar under a weeping willow tree. In another life, this might have been where Hale and I took our vows, pledging our lives to each other. 

Yes, it was all terribly ironic. 

The crowd jeered at me, almost gleeful over what they were about to witness. 

“Hey, scarface, third time’s a charm, right?” one sneered. 

“Bet you get a fourth before the year is up,” another snickered, 

‘The Traitors‘ offspring stood guard, keeping the crowd from attacking me. But Shawn didn’t look happy about it. His outstretched arms held the crowd back, but he looked over his shoulder at me with deep worry 

As though I were stuck in some old French Revolution movie, heading to the guillotine, the crowd became frenzied in their excitement. A small rock hit my face, right where my scars were. 

“Give my daughter back!” someone screamed. 

That started a barrage of items, from stale bread to half–eaten tomatoes. I felt my eyebrow split as I was hit with a stick, and my ceremonial dress was soon ruined by food and mud being slung at me. 

“Stop, stop!” the Traitor guards bellowed, none louder than Shawn “Get yourselves under control, or we will remove you!” 

But there were too many pack members and not enough Traitors to get them under control. 

“CEASE!” came the booming Alpha’s voice 

The throwing stopped, and as one the pack bowed in submission, including myself and the maids who surrounded me. 

I chanced a glance up, however, and saw Hale, resplendent in his own ceremonial clothing. 

It almost took my breath away how handsome he was at that moment. His square jaw made him look so regal, and the way his eyes twinkled in the light had me gasping for air. 

Hale locked eyes with me, frowned, then looked away. 

I sighed. 

I was about to be rejected by Alpha Mason Hale. 

And for the first time since this whole mating debacle happened, I regretted it.