Rejected Luna: Pregnant By the Ruthless Alpha CEO After One Night

*REMI'S POV*

The champagne glass in my hand was empty, which was a problem because I needed something to throw at my boyfriend's face.

Ex-boyfriend, I corrected mentally. As of approximately thirty seconds ago.

"You're like oatmeal, Remi." Flynn's voice carried across the Lunar Gardens where half the Crescent Bay pack had gathered for what was supposed to be our engagement announcement. "Bland. Basic. Nobody's first choice."

The laughter that rippled through the crowd felt like glass shards embedding themselves in my skin. I stood there in the stupid pink dress I'd bought specifically for this moment—the moment I thought my boyfriend of three years was going to propose—and tried to remember how to breathe.

"Flynn, maybe we should talk about this in private," I managed, my voice somehow steady despite the humiliation burning through my veins.

"Why?" Bree's voice cut through the awkward silence. My best friend since high school stepped forward, her hand sliding possessively into Flynn's. "Everyone here already knows you two weren't really compatible. I mean, come on, Remi. Did you honestly think Flynn was going to choose you as his mate?"

The way she said "you" made it sound like an insult.

I looked at Bree—sweet, loyal Bree who'd held my hair back when I had food poisoning last month, who'd helped me pick out this dress, who'd assured me that Flynn was "totally going to propose tonight"—and saw the truth written all over her perfectly made-up face.

She wasn't sorry. She was thrilled.

"How long?" I asked quietly.

Flynn at least had the decency to look uncomfortable. "Rem, it's not like that—"

"How. Long."

"Six months," Bree said, and her smile was pure venom disguised as pity. "We tried to fight it, we really did. But when you find your true mate, you can't deny the bond."

Six months. Six fucking months while I'd been planning a future with a man who was screwing my best friend behind my back.

"The Moon Goddess works in mysterious ways," Elder Patricia announced from her seat at the head table, like this was some kind of divine intervention instead of basic betrayal. "True mates always find each other."

"Exactly," Flynn said, looking relieved that someone was backing him up. "You understand, right, Rem? You're a good person. You'll find someone eventually. Someone more... your speed."

Translation: someone as mediocre as he thought I was.

The pack members were nodding along like this made perfect sense. Like I was supposed to smile and congratulate the happy couple and fade quietly into the background like a good little rejected wolf.

"Remi, honey, don't make this harder than it needs to be," my aunt Carol said from somewhere in the crowd. "You're twenty-four. You have plenty of time to find a nice Beta to settle down with."

A nice Beta. Because apparently I wasn't good enough for an Alpha like Flynn.

Never mind that Flynn was barely an Alpha. His father ran the pack's accounting firm. The most dangerous thing Flynn had done all year was file taxes late.

But he had the title, and in pack hierarchy, titles meant everything.

I looked around at the faces of people I'd known my entire life. People who'd watched me grow up, who'd come to my high school graduation, who'd celebrated my birthdays. Not one person was standing up for me. Not one person thought this was wrong.

They were all looking at me with pity or secondhand embarrassment or worse—relief that it wasn't happening to them.

"You know what?" I said, my voice cutting through the murmurs. "You're absolutely right, Flynn."

His eyebrows shot up. "I am?"

"Yeah. I am like oatmeal." I walked toward him slowly, and the crowd parted like I might explode. "Plain. Boring. Forgettable."

I stopped right in front of him and Bree, who was clinging to his arm like a barnacle.

"But here's the thing about oatmeal," I continued, my voice dropping to something cold and sharp. "Nobody actually wants it. They just settle for it because it's there."

I turned to address the whole crowd, these people who thought I was going to crumble.

"So congratulations, Bree. You can have him. You can have this whole suffocating pack and everyone in it. I'm done settling."

"Remi—" Flynn started, but I wasn't finished.

I picked up the champagne bottle from the nearest table—the expensive one his parents had brought for the engagement toast—and very deliberately poured it over his head.

The shocked gasps were almost worth the three years I'd wasted on him.

"Oops," I said flatly. "How clumsy of me."

Then I turned on my heel and walked out of the Lunar Gardens with my head held high, even though my hands were shaking and my eyes were burning with tears I refused to shed in front of these people.

I made it exactly three blocks before I had to stop and lean against a brick wall, my breath coming in short gasps.

"Don't cry," I told myself firmly. "Don't you dare cry over that weak-ass excuse for an Alpha."

My phone buzzed with incoming messages. Probably people from the pack wanting to lecture me about causing a scene or tell me I should apologize for embarrassing Flynn.

I turned off my phone and started walking.

I didn't have a destination in mind. I just needed to move, to put distance between myself and the life I'd just walked away from. My feet carried me through the city streets until the pack housing gave way to downtown, where gleaming skyscrapers rose into the night sky and humans and werewolves mixed without anyone caring about hierarchy or titles or who was good enough for whom.

That's when I saw it: The Apex. An upscale bar I'd walked past a hundred times but never had the money or courage to enter.

Tonight, I had neither money nor courage. But I had a credit card with a small limit and absolutely nothing left to lose.

The interior was all dark wood and low lighting, the kind of place where drinks cost more than my rent and everyone looked like they belonged there. I definitely didn't belong. My pink dress was too bright, too cheap, too obviously bought off the clearance rack.

I didn't care.

I slid onto a barstool and caught the bartender's attention. "Tequila. The biggest shot you have."

He raised an eyebrow but poured without comment. I threw it back, welcoming the burn.

"Rough night?"

The voice came from my right—deep, smooth, with an edge of amusement that should have annoyed me but somehow didn't.

I turned to find the most attractive man I'd ever seen watching me with dark gray eyes that seemed to see right through my brave face to the mess underneath.

He was tall even sitting down, with dark hair that looked like he'd run his hands through it too many times and a jawline that could cut glass. His suit probably cost more than my car, and everything about him screamed power and money and danger.

"That depends," I said, proud that my voice came out steady. "Are you going to give me unsolicited advice about how everything happens for a reason?"

His lips quirked. "Would you throw that glass at my face if I did?"

"Probably."

"Then no. No unsolicited advice." He gestured to the bartender. "Another round for her. And put it on my tab."

"I don't accept drinks from strangers," I said automatically. "Stranger danger and all that."

"Smart. I could be a serial killer."

"Are you?"

"Only on Tuesdays." Those gray eyes held mine. "Today's Wednesday. You're safe."

I shouldn't have laughed. Nothing about tonight was funny. But something about his deadpan delivery cracked through my misery and I found myself actually smiling.

"I'm Remi," I said.

"Dax." He didn't offer his last name, and I didn't ask. Tonight, I didn't want to be Remi Cole from the Crescent Bay pack who just got publicly humiliated. I wanted to be nobody. Just a girl in a bar having a drink with a stranger.

"So, Remi," Dax said, his voice dropping lower. "What brings you to The Apex on a Wednesday night, looking like you want to burn the world down?"

I picked up the fresh shot that had appeared in front of me. "My boyfriend rejected me in front of our entire pack. Said I was like oatmeal."

"Oatmeal?"

"Bland. Basic. Nobody's first choice." I threw back the shot. "Then my best friend announced she's been sleeping with him for six months and they're true mates blessed by the Moon Goddess or whatever."

"Ah." Dax was quiet for a moment. "Your ex-boyfriend is an idiot."

"Thank you."

"And your ex-best friend has terrible taste."

"Also true."

"And oatmeal is underrated. You can add fruit, honey, chocolate chips. Very versatile."

This time I actually laughed, loud enough that a few people looked over. "Are you seriously defending oatmeal right now?"

"I'm defending you." His eyes were intense, pinning me in place. "Anyone who thinks you're forgettable is blind."

The air between us shifted, charged with something electric. He was close enough that I could smell his cologne—something expensive and woodsy that made my wolf stir for the first time all night.

Wait.

I focused on him more carefully, reaching out with my senses. Underneath the cologne was something wild. Something powerful.

"You're a wolf," I said.

"So are you." His smile was sharp. "Alpha?"

"Beta. You?"

"Alpha." The way he said it made something low in my stomach clench. This wasn't like Flynn's posturing, constantly reminding everyone of his rank. This was quiet, absolute certainty. The kind of power that didn't need to announce itself.

"Let me guess," I said, the tequila making me bold. "You're probably a CEO or something. Rich, powerful, used to getting whatever you want."

"Something like that." He leaned closer, and my pulse kicked up. "Is that a problem?"

"Depends. Are you going to tell me I'm not good enough for you too?"

"No." The word was firm, final. "I'm going to buy you another drink, and then I'm going to ask if you want to get out of here."

My breath caught. I knew what he was asking. What would happen if I said yes.

This was crazy. I didn't do this. I didn't have one-night stands with mysterious strangers in expensive bars. I was responsible, careful, the girl who always thought things through.

And where had that gotten me? Publicly humiliated and comparing myself to breakfast food.

"Yes," I said.

Dax's eyes darkened with something that made my skin feel too tight. He threw some bills on the bar—way too many bills—and stood, offering me his hand.

"Come on, oatmeal. Let's get you out of here."

I took his hand, and electricity shot up my arm. His fingers tightened on mine as he led me through the bar toward the exit, and I couldn't help noticing how everyone seemed to move out of his way without him saying a word.

Outside, a sleek black car was waiting. A driver opened the door, and I slid in before I could second-guess myself. Dax followed, and suddenly the spacious back seat felt very small.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"My place." His thumb traced circles on my palm, making it hard to think. "Unless you've changed your mind."

I should have. I should have told him to take me home, thanked him for the drinks, forgotten this night ever happened.

Instead, I shifted closer. "I haven't changed my mind."

The ride to his building was a blur of lights and building tension. He kept touching me—small touches, nothing inappropriate, but each one made my skin burn. His hand on the small of my back as we entered the lobby. His fingers brushing my hip in the elevator. The heat of his body behind me as we walked down a hallway that seemed impossibly long.

When we finally reached his door, he paused.

"Last chance, oatmeal. Walk away now, no hard feelings."

I grabbed his tie and pulled him down to my level. "Stop talking and kiss me already."

He did.