Rejecting The Alpha King：My Second Chance Mate

My prophetic visions had made my mate, Alpha Alexander, a king.

But on the very day of his coronation, he drove a silver dagger through my heart.

He killed me.

All because his first love, Victoria, had been exiled—and she died after trying to poison me.

The world shattered as the blade pierced my chest.

The last thing I saw was Alexander’s triumphant, hate-filled glare.

I gasped.

My eyes flew open.

My breath came in ragged, painful pulls.

There was no burning agony. No warm blood soaking my skin.

Instead, the air was heavy with the scent of sacred smoke and pine resin, drifting from the flames atop the Lunar Altar.

This wasn’t the silence of death.

It was the low, rhythmic chanting of the gathered packs.

All around me.

“Oracle Stella, please choose your mate.”

The Elder’s voice, weathered by time, echoed through the clearing.

It was the same voice from that night eight years ago.

My hands shook as I looked down at them.

Smooth. Unmarked.

I was eighteen again.

The Choosing Ceremony.

A second chance.

I was reborn.

Memories crashed over me like a tidal wave, pulling me into a whirlpool of pain and bitterness.

The Great War between the Northern Territories and the Southern Clans had begun.

My gift of prophecy forced me into the role of Oracle—the supposed hope for the North’s future.

The Elders commanded me to select a mate from the strongest Alphas of the great packs.

This mate would be my partner.

With my visions to guide him, he would lead the North to victory.

And I—young and foolish—had chosen Alexander.

I was captivated by how he’d appeared like a savior, rescuing me from a rogue beast when I was just a scared girl.

I mistook the strange, undeniable pull between us for fate.

I gave him everything.

My loyalty. My body. The precious power of my prophecies, which drained my wolf spirit with every use.

But I was blind.

I didn’t see the longing in his eyes when he looked at Victoria, his childhood Beta.

After Alexander and I bonded, Victoria’s jealousy festered like a poison.

She humiliated me publicly. Shamed me constantly.

Finally, she tried to poison me.

When the Elders banished her for her crimes, and the Crimson Fang Pack tore her apart, Alexander held me close.

He whispered, “She brought this on herself. It has nothing to do with you.”

I believed him.

I kept pouring my prophecies into him, burning my spirit to help him win every battle.

Until he stood at the peak of power.

Crowned King of the North.

Then, in what should have been my moment of triumph, he plunged that silver blade deep into my heart.

“If it weren’t for you, Victoria would never have been consumed by jealousy! She wouldn’t have died!”

His voice was colder than the metal.

“You have the gift of prophecy. Why didn’t you save her? You’re useless to me now. Go die.”

The agony of a shattered heart. The icy sting of betrayal.

It all felt as fresh as if it had just happened.

“Oracle, please place a drop of your blood on the token of your chosen.”

The Elder’s voice dragged me back.

He offered a slender silver needle.

I forced myself away from the memories.

My gaze swept over the altar, where a collection of daggers lay.

Each represented one of the North’s mightiest Alphas.

Alexander’s dagger glittered with gold and jewels, flashing arrogantly in the firelight.

Just like him—all show, no substance.

My eyes deliberately moved past it.

They settled on a forgotten corner of the altar.

There lay a dagger carved from deep black obsidian.

Its hilt was rough, unadorned. It emanated a raw, untamed wildness.

It belonged to Sebastian, Alpha of the Nightshade Forest.

The cursed Alpha.

Legends said his bloodline was tainted by dark magic.

Any mate who bonded with him would feel their gifts and wolf spirit slowly wither.

They would become an empty shell.

Choosing him meant a slow, agonizing death.

In my past life, I would have recoiled from that ominous blade.

Now, a cold, sharp smile touched my lips.

Turning my back to the Elders, I pricked my finger without hesitation.

A single drop of crimson fell.

It landed perfectly on the night-black obsidian hilt.

A ghostly violet light pulsed from the dagger, instantly absorbing my blood.

The choice was sealed.

By tradition, the Moon Goddess herself would reveal the final bond in three days, under the full moon.

The ceremony ended.

As I turned to leave, Alexander stepped onto the path, blocking my way.

“Stella.”

“We need to talk.”

His voice dripped with smug certainty, as if he expected me to beg.

“We have nothing to discuss,” I said flatly, trying to step around him.

His hand shot out, gripping my arm so tightly I thought the bone might crack.