The Alpha's Reclaimed Mate

The Alpha's Reclaimed Mate Rejected Mate Paranormal Werewolf Shifter Romance Jennifer Eve Copyright © 2023 by Jennifer Eve All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. Contents Chapter 1: Aria Chapter 2: Aria Chapter 3: Aria Chapter 4: Aria Chapter 5: Aria Chapter 6: Aria Chapter 7: Aria Chapter 8: Aria Chapter 9: Aria Chapter 10: Aria Chapter 11: Aria Chapter 12: Aria Chapter 13: Aria Chapter 14: Aria Chapter 15: Aria Chapter 16: Aria Chapter 17: Aria Chapter 18: Aria Chapter 19: Aria Chapter 20: Aria Chapter 21: Aria Chapter 22: Aria Chapter 23: Aria Chapter 24: Lucas Chapter 25: Aria Chapter 26: Aria Chapter 27: Aria Chapter 28: Aria Chapter 29: Aria Chapter 30: Aria Chapter 1: Aria “Aria!” A chill shot up my spine. For the third time that afternoon, my combat instructor barked at me to pay attention. “Yes, Sir!” “Did you hear what I said?” “Yes, Sir!” “Then what did I just say?” I hated to admit it, but I’d gotten a little lost in my thoughts. My upcoming mating ceremony made it hard to think about anything else. Swallowing, I replied, “You were explaining the mechanics of the solar plexus strike, Sir!” He frowned, pushed his hair back, and stepped into a fighting stance. “Okay. Demonstrate what you’ve learned.” I had a sinking feeling my answer displeased him. Then again, Mr. Ross, Senior Lieutenant of the Grey Creek Pack, wasn’t an easy wolf shifter to impress. With a huff, I mirrored his stance, my legs bent and fists clenched at chest level. All my senses were attuned to our environment: the gentle breeze on my shoulders, my bare toes stiffened for balance on the hard mats covering the floor. I wore a black tank top and capris-length leggings that gave me a full range of movement, while Mr. Ross wore a grey t-shirt with a hole in the armpit and black sweatpants that cut off at the ankle. My long red hair was in a braided ponytail tickling the back of my neck, and his eyebrows were furrowed over his eyes. I glanced at the spot I intended to strike him: right in the middle of his abdomen, just above his stomach. At the moment my eyes flickered, Mr. Ross struck first. Like lightning, his fist shot toward me, knuckles slamming into my solar plexus in the exact spot I intended to hit him. I wasn’t expecting it. Blinding pain ripped the air out of my lungs and crumpled me to the floor. Mr. Ross stood above me. “I was talking about defensive maneuvers to deflect a solar plexus strike, Miss Gunn,” he growled in disappointment. Had I been listening, I would have realized that I needed to grab his elbow when he initiated the strike and drive my knee into his stomach instead of planning to make the strike myself. Damnit. Wheezing, I propped myself up on my palms and trembled, willing myself to rise to my feet, but the pain radiating through my body held me back. Mr. Ross sighed and stepped away. “You’ll be feeling that one for a couple of days. Let’s resume training on Thursday.” The weight of his disappointment dragged me back to the ground. I pressed my forehead into the mat and groaned, frustrated with myself. Failure was poison to my ego. A long shower followed that training session. I stepped out of the steam into the girl’s change room and glimpsed myself in a mirror: green eyes alive with resolve, freckles spotting my cheeks and shoulders. I opened my towel and frowned at the purple bruise above my stomach and below my breasts, my pale skin wounding easily. Distant voices warned me of the arrival of our pack’s soccer team preparing for afternoon practice. I hastily got dressed and dried my hair, avoiding the eyes of the other girls. They didn’t talk to me, and I didn’t talk to them. Between my studies and Alpha training, I didn’t have time for friends, however deeply I envied their camaraderie. My upcoming mating ceremony wasn’t just going to unite me with my fated mate. It would elevate me to the rank of Alpha Female of the Grey Creek Pack alongside our Alpha Male, Oswald Moore. I’d been preparing for four years, and now, I had just two months before my life would change completely. Leaving the fitness center, I crossed the courtyard of the Grey Creek Pack villa to my next lesson with the pack’s bookkeeper, Mrs. Foster. Leaves budded on the great oaks, and colourful tulips brightened into the crisp spring air along the walkway. Everything our pack needed was contained in the villa: the fitness center with a swimming pool, the farmhouse with our cattle, pigs, and chickens, the warehouse and offices for our labor division of Shadow Manufacturing Industries, apartment-style housing for our lower- status packmates right down to the Omegas, and the Lodge, where our high-status packmates lived. Outside of the villa was a carefully groomed field in which we played sports and held gatherings—though our most special ceremonies were held in the courtyard—and beyond that, sprawling forests that reached up into mysterious blue mountains cutting into the horizon. Our home was a paradise sequestered in the wilderness of Alsa Stone. I took one last breath of the sun-warmed air before entering the office building. It was always air-conditioned, which was why I had gone from my tank top and leggings to a thin grey sweater, jeans, and black-and-white sneakers. The elevator twinkled with music and delivered me to the third-floor hallway overlooking the atrium-style lobby. Briskly, I marched down the hallway with my work binder in my arms, only to stop when I spied my teacher chatting amicably with someone outside her office. He glanced at me, smiling. Short black hair cradled a grey streak among its tufts. Bright amber eyes full