Sacrificed: A rejected mates paranormal wolf shifter romance (The Rejected Mate Book 1) Read online

  Sacrificed

  The Rejected Mate Book 1

  Bella Klaus

  Copyright © 2021 by Bella Klaus.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher.

  www.BellaKlaus.com

  Download a Beowulf and Lydia Short Story

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Also by Bella Klaus

  Chapter One

  I was the wolf-shifter Cinderella.

  No joke.

  Reason number one: tonight was the Wolf Moon Mixer, a once-a-year event where the three most prominent packs of Europe brought together their most promising unmated wolves.

  Our alpha was hosting it this year, but I wouldn’t be there. As an outcast, I was lower than an omega—so far down on the pack hierarchy that I didn’t even qualify to serve the drinks.

  But I sure as hell was good enough to clean the visitors lodge.

  I took the mop out of the bucket, emptied its contents down the toilet and flushed. After putting the cleaning things back in their cupboard, I wiped my brow on the sleeve of my overalls and admired my work.

  The guest bathroom was pristine—marble surfaces, gold taps, and a jacuzzi large enough to accommodate eight. Sunlight streamed in through the frosted window, making everything sparkle.

  Best of all, I got the work done without a Disney song or a crew of helpful birds or mice.

  Raucous male laughter echoed from the other side of the door, reminding me of the second reason why I was the shifter Cinderella. Cinderella had two ugly sisters, and I had the Mondo twins.

  I pushed open the door and stepped into the guest suite’s living area, which I’d spent the morning cleaning to a shine. Eagon and Umber lounged on the sofas, watching a documentary on Scandinavian shamans.

  “What are you doing?” I clapped my hands together, trying to get their attention. “We’ve got a whole list of chores to finish before noon.”

  Eagon turned his head to the side to shoot me a glare and continued watching the TV with his twin.

  My jaw clenched. He was supposed to be the more responsible of the pair, yet the two of them together were bad influences on each other.

  I reached into my overalls pocket and pulled out a pair of boxers one of them had tossed into the bathroom while I’d been cleaning. Sunlight streamed through the pale fabric, illuminating a crusty white stain.

  “Which of you two slobs left your underwear for me to find?”

  Eagon turned to Umber, who snickered before pointing the remote at the TV and turning up the volume. A closeup appeared on the screen of a man with blond locks cutting open a bird’s belly to read its entrails.

  My gaze followed the length of its power cable, which disappeared behind a low cabinet. “Of all the times you two decide to slack off, why now, when the alpha wants to make the best impression?”

  “Lydia,” Eagon drawled. “Why ask a question when you already know the answer?”

  “Beowulf can go to hell for being such a shitty alpha.” Umber placed his feet on the coffee table and stretched out his arms in an exaggerated yawn. “We stocked all the bars, unloaded the kegs, and set up the grill.”

  “That’s our share of the work done,” said Eagon. “Fetch us two more beers.”

  I stormed toward the power cable, my lips forming a tight line. For reasons I couldn’t fathom, the pack administrator had put me on work duty with the Mondo twins—a pair of arrogant assholes whose father had killed mine.

  It was a tangled set of affairs. Dad had been the pack alpha for years until the Mondo twins’ father killed him and took his place. Then a few years ago, a young wolf called Beowulf came out of nowhere and killed their father in a battle. Being the children of defeated alphas was one of the worst things a young person could be in a pack.

  Alpha Mondo had relegated Mum and me to the bottom of the pack, and his worthless sons had lorded over me at the academy. Now, they were disgraced because their lying, cheating, murdering parents had been bested in a fair alpha battle. With Mondo dead and defeated, a new alpha in place, they instantly reverted into omegas.

  But the only people lower in the pack than them were Mum and me.

  “You’re only finished early because two people did the work of one,” I said from between clenched teeth. “Frida said one of you should help me prepare the rooms.”

  Frida was the leader of the alpha’s harem, a rag-tag group of skanks who orbited Beowulf and warmed his bed. She was also the alpha’s housekeeper and allergic to a bucket and mop.

  Umber ran a hand through his scraggly locks and belched. “What are you going to do about it?”

  Eagon shooed me away. “Get to work, unless you want all three of us punished.”

  My nostrils flared. I reached down to the power socket and pulled out the plug, ending their enjoyment of the bird’s guts.

  As if synchronized by magic, the twins both turned to me and glared.

  I raised my chin. “We have one more room to finish. If we all work together, we can leave before anyone comes—”

  “Did you not hear my brother?” Eagon snarled. “Beowulf can call us omegas if he wants, he can flay the skin off our backs, but we won’t help him ally with other packs.”

  “And cleaning duties are for weasel shifters or those who live among them,” Umber added.

  I folded my arms across my chest. “Neither of you have the balls to say that to his face.”

  They both rose from their seats and stalked toward me with the same menacing expressions they’d used when bullying me at the academy.

  Anticipation rippled across the lining of my stomach. The twins had been my biggest tormentors, until Beowulf had killed their father and relegated them to omegas. They were no longer evil bastards, but they still acted like my superiors.

  I pulled back my shoulders, clenched my teeth, and balled my hands into fists. What could they do to me that others hadn’t? Over the years, I’d been punched, kicked, scratched, whipped, spat at, and humiliated.

  Pain was fleeting, and wounds would heal. What could never be restored was respect, and I wasn’t about to let the twins lounge around while I did all the work.

  They stood in front of me with Eagon on the left and Umber on the right, both forming a barrier of muscle. My throat dried. I had to stand my ground and fight back, even if one of them lashed out.

  Umber bared his teeth at me and snarled. “You could never keep your mouth shut.”

  My pulse quickened. Those were the words he usually uttered at the academy before slamming me head-first into the nearest locker. Words that usually accompanied a beating that would leave me bruised for days.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I said in my calmest voice, “As much as I’m enjoying this trip down nostalgia creek, we still have a job to finish.”

  “Cleaning toilets is an insult,” Eagon said. “We’re not omega scum.”

 
I forced an exaggerated sigh. “When your dad murdered mine to become the alpha, and you two reminded me of this on a daily basis, I felt the same. But shirking your duties isn’t going to restore your status in the pack.”

  “But we know what would,” he replied.

  The urge to roll my eyes was overwhelming. They were talking about fighting Beowulf. Anyone who had seen Beowulf challenge the twins’ father would know the wolf was unbeatable. Watching our current alpha kill the wolf who had killed Dad had been glorious, until I’d seen the twins’ anguish.

  Overnight, they’d gone from future alphas to omegas, and everyone they had tormented during their reign of popularity now relished in humiliating them. The twins were dicks, but at least fate had spared me the horror of growing to love a parent and then watching him die.

  Umber squared his shoulders. “We’re going to challenge Beowulf.”

  I raised my brows. “A direct challenge or sabotage dressed up as watching TV while I do all your work?”

  Eagon snarled. He was the more cunning of the pair, and the one most likely to use whatever I said as a tool to elevate his status in the pack. “Are you with us or against us?”

  “How about I pass on the treason?” I gestured at the door. “But if we all work together on the next room, none of us will get whipped.”

  “Lydia.” Umber grabbed my arm. “Join us. With your strength—”

  The door behind us opened, and Frida stepped in with two other skanks from the harem. “Oh, Wulfie,” she said in a sweet-as-shit voice. “Wait until you see what I’ve done with the guest suite.”

  Beowulf strolled into the room, and our eyes locked.

  Every muscle in my body stiffened, and my heart rate accelerated to one hundred. My inner wolf rose to the surface and pressed her paws against my heart.

  Beowulf was beyond stunning. High cheekbones, a square jaw, and turquoise eyes that could strip a girl naked and have her begging for more. A dusting of stubble covered his smooth, golden skin, making him look rough and ready for action. He wore his usual leather jacket without a shirt, exposing the planes and contours of his muscular torso.

  I dropped my gaze to the wood floor, letting my loose strands form a curtain over my face. Two years ago, I had an encounter with Beowulf in this very building, an encounter that was both my most exquisite pleasure and my biggest regret.

  It was an encounter I wanted to forget.

  “See the portrait of Fenrir?” Frida’s whine cut through my thoughts. “I framed it with pine to make it look Scandinavian for the Norse alpha.”

  Beowulf grunted.

  The twins and I stood in a line against the wall and stilled, the way omegas were supposed to do in the presence of their superiors. My heart pounded a rapid beat the way it always did when Beowulf was near. At one point, my wolf and I had believed he was our fated mate, and I had even gone so far as to approach him—

  I shook off that thought. No good would come from thinking about that.

  As Frida walked Beowulf around the guest suite and took credit for my work, Eagon leaned into me and whispered, “When Alpha asks about the second suite, tell him you didn’t have enough time.”

  I clenched my teeth. “Frida told Umber—”

  “He’s less likely to whip you,” he snapped.

  “But Frida will,” I muttered under my breath.

  Eagon didn’t reply, because he knew I was right. Beowulf might be our leader, but he was also the Shifter King of Logris, the largest supernatural city in Great Britain. He was too involved in supernatural politics to take care of the day-to-day running of the pack. His harem managed everything from the enforcers, to the admin, to the collection of taxes. They also dished out the punishments.

  Anxiety rippled through my insides. If it came down to my word against theirs, Frida would side with her former academy friends, the handsome but tortured Mondo twins, who showered her with compliments. I was just the smart-mouthed bitch she had once bullied and occasionally fought.

  A knock sounded on the door, and I left formation to answer it.

  Randel, one of the few enforcers who never treated me like shit, stood in the hallway. He was a tall, mahogany-skinned man with a shaved head, and one of the few who wore an earring.

  He hooked his thumb in the direction of the stairs. “The metal mage says he wants extra for the last-minute changes to the statue of Fenrir.”

  Frida shoved me aside and jogged into the hallway. “Let me deal with that scammer. Eliza, Ginger, you’re with me.”

  The other two harem skanks trotted out, leaving me alone with the twins, who were too busy staring at the bathroom door and whispering among themselves to notice me.

  My pulse fluttered in my throat. Was this the day they would challenge Beowulf for leadership?

  Doubtful.

  But I couldn’t take the risk of getting caught up in their nonsense. I stuffed the boxers behind the sofa cushion and positioned myself closer to the door… Just in case.

  Moments later, Beowulf emerged from the bathroom, his gaze fixed on me. “Report.”

  The lack of recognition in his eyes was like a dagger in the gut. I clenched my stomach muscles, hardened my heart, but my inner wolf tucked her tail between her legs and hid her head beneath her paws.

  “All tasks completed as instructed, Alpha,” Eagon said, turning Beowulf’s attention to him. “Except for the last guest room. Lydia needs more time to complete her duties.”

  Beowulf’s gaze swiveled back to mine. “Explain.”

  The twins turned to me with identical glowers, charging the air with a hostility that crackled against my skin. Resentment burned in my chest, both at their attempts to hold me responsible for their slacking and at the alpha who acted like I didn’t exist, even when my wolf howled for his.

  My throat thickened. What would I gain from going along with the twins’ plan? Certainly not their respect. They were a pair of dicks who taunted me every day for years about my murdered father.

  I owed them nothing.

  Beowulf’s brows rose with a silent question.

  I cleared my throat. “It’s easier for two people to complete the work of one than for one to complete the work of two, Alpha.”

  “Frida told us to unload the drinks delivery and set up the grill,” Eagon said. “She told Chlamydia over there to prepare the guest rooms.”

  Humiliation burned through my veins and heated the surface of my skin. That bastard just used the harem’s favorite insult.

  The corners of Beowulf’s lips turned down with disgust. For once, I was glad he’d forgotten about our encounter.

  “Ask Frida,” Umber added.

  Beowulf’s eyes narrowed. “Not necessary.” He cast his gaze across the room and settled it on the TV area. “Two empty cans of lager. Two dents on the sofa, and scuff marks on the table from someone using it as a footrest.”

  “We finished early, Alpha,” Umber said.

  Eagon nodded. “Frida said we could—”

  “Silence.” Beowulf’s voice cut through the twins’ lies like an ax. Flaring his nostrils, he strode to the sofa and threw back the cushion where I’d hidden the dirty boxers.

  My breath stilled, and I forced my features into a blank mask.

  Beowulf held up the dirty boxers between his thumb and forefinger. “You.” He turned to me, his eyes a furious amber. “Get out.”

  Relief whooshed out of my lungs in an outward breath. The twins would want to skin me alive for this, but by the time they healed from their injuries, I would be ready for them. The twins were tough, but I was faster, more vicious. and had a hell of a lot more to lose.

  I sprinted toward the door and flung it open, just as a pair of enforcers stepped forward. My breath hitched. It was now three against two. If the twins had any sense, they would take their punishment and forget about challenging the alpha.

  Beowulf’s growl made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “If you so much as blame the girl for this, I will—”
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  The door clicked shut behind me, muffling whatever Beowulf said next.

  At the end of the hallway, I stepped out through the front doors into the expanse of lawn surrounding the guest house. Today was one of the warmest Spring Equinoxes on record, but I think this was related to the wards that surrounded our supernatural city.

  Logris was in Richmond Park, one of the largest outdoor spaces in London. It was mostly forestland and deer and lakes, but security was extra tight. Our Supernatural City got exposed to the Human World a few months ago, and a horde of them tried to attack. Beowulf and his colleagues on the Supernatural Council tripled the magic protecting our city, but they were still tweaking the enchantment that controlled the weather.

  The whipping post was gone from its usual spot in the middle of the lawn, replaced by a bronze wolf sculpture whose head pointed to the sky. My steps quickened, and I hurried to take a better look. It was over ten feet tall, with a shaggy pelt, and chains securing its neck and legs and tail.

  Whoever had created it had formed a set of broken chains around its mouth, but with the links exploding and broken pieces of metal floating in thin air. The entire work of art stood on a five-foot-high plinth, labelled FENRISÚLFR, which meant Fenrir’s wolf in Old Norse.

  “Like it, do you?” asked a rough voice from behind me.

  I turned to meet the quicksilver eyes of a man who smelled like copper pennies. This was probably Frida’s metal mage.

  “It’s brilliant.” I gestured at the sculpture. “How on earth did you create this in a day?”

  He rocked forward on his heels, and beamed. “Three hundred years of practice and a pinch of natural talent. Are you one of the shifters?”

  “Yes.” My brows drew together. “Why?”