CLAIMED BY THE ROGUE KING

Sneers followed me as I walked through the crowded party, my head lowered, hoping to blend into the sea of faces. "Daughter of a slut." "Whore." The whispered insults wrapped around me like chains, each word tightening the grip on my already fragile heart. I pretended not to hear them, clutching the sides of my dress as my trembling hands betrayed my nerves.

The room buzzed with laughter and lively conversation, but it felt like I was on the outside looking in. Every step I took felt heavier than the last. My chest tightened, but I kept telling myself, Just a little longer. Stay invisible.

Suddenly, a hard shove came from behind. "Watch out, trash," someone muttered with a snicker.

I stumbled forward, colliding with a server carrying a tray of drinks. "Oh!" The server's startled cry barely registered before the tray tipped. Glasses clattered to the floor, shattering on impact. Ice-cold liquid splashed across my legs, soaking the hem of my dress.

Before I could regain my balance, my foot slipped on the spilled drinks, and I fell hard. My hands hit the ground first, but instead of steadying me, they landed on broken shards of glass. A sharp, burning pain shot through my palms.

I couldn't stop the yelp that escaped me. "Ah!"

The sound seemed to fuel the laughter that erupted around me.

"Look at her," one of the girls jeered. "Can't even stand on her own two feet."

"She's just like her mother," another sneered. "Pathetic."

Their mocking voices cut through the air like knives. My face burned with shame as I fought back tears.

"Are you going to cry now?" one of them taunted, stepping closer.

I gritted my teeth and forced myself to stay silent, swallowing back the lump in my throat. My palms stung, and the blood seeping from the cuts only added to my humiliation.

I tried to push myself up, but the pain in my hands made it difficult. As I struggled to stand, I suddenly heard a word that froze me in place.

"Mate."

My head shot up, my heart pounding in my chest. I scanned the room, searching for the voice. When I found him, my breath caught in my throat. Devon. The Alpha's son. My mate.

For a brief moment, joy filled me. I couldn't believe it. I had finally found him. The one the Moon Goddess had chosen for me. I felt a spark of hope, thinking that maybe sneaking out tonight, disobeying my stepmother's strict orders, wasn't a mistake after all.

But my happiness crumbled the second I saw his expression. His face twisted into a look of disgust. His silver eyes, which I had admired from afar, were filled with contempt as they looked me up and down.

"The Moon Goddess must be cruel," he spat, his voice cold and laced with anger. "Why would she give me an ugly, disgusting mate? A mate whose mother was a whore?"

His words hit me harder than any blow could. My heart, which had been soaring seconds ago, shattered into pieces. Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away. I wouldn't let him see me cry.

I forced myself to my feet, ignoring the pain in my hands and the stares of the crowd. I stepped closer to him, my voice shaky but determined.

"But we're mates," I said softly, hoping he would listen, hoping he would feel the bond the way I did.

He didn't.

His hand moved faster than I could react. The slap landed hard against my cheek, the sound echoing in the now-quiet room. The force sent me crashing back onto the floor, the glass cutting into me once more.

I lay there, stunned, my cheek burning and my body aching. The room spun around me, but what hurt most was the look of hatred on his face. I had found my mate, but he didn't want me.

I fell onto the broken glass, and the sharp edges cut into my skin. Blood oozed from the wounds on my palms and arms, staining the floor beneath me. The sting was sharp, but it was nothing compared to the pain that came with his next words.

"I would never mate with a worthless whore like you," Devon spat, his voice cold and full of venom.

Before I could even process the rejection, he began reciting the rejection oath. Each word felt like a knife twisting in my chest. The bond between us, which I had barely begun to feel, tore apart as if someone had ripped my soul in two. I clutched at my chest, gasping as white-hot pain shot through me.

"Please," I begged, my voice cracking. Tears blurred my vision as I crawled toward him, desperate to make him stop. "Please, don't do this."

I reached out to touch him, to make him see me, but he recoiled in disgust.

"Don't touch me!" he shouted, his voice filled with hatred.

Then his foot connected with my side, sending me sprawling back onto the floor. The force knocked the wind out of me, but he didn't stop. Another kick came, this time to my ribs. I curled up into a ball, trying to shield myself from the blows, but it didn't help. Pain radiated through my entire body, and all I could do was sob quietly, praying for it to end.

When he finally stopped, I thought it was over, but I was wrong. He grabbed a fistful of my long black hair and yanked me to my feet. I screamed as he dragged me through the crowd, my bare feet scraping against the floor.

Everyone was watching. No one stopped him. No one helped me.

When we reached the doors, he threw me out of the mate ceremony like I was nothing but garbage. I landed hard on the ground outside, my body aching and bruised. I lay there for a moment, trying to catch my breath, before I forced myself to stand.

My steps were unsteady as I stumbled home, every movement sending waves of pain through my battered body. The small bungalow came into view, and I felt a flicker of relief, hoping I could slip inside unnoticed and tend to my wounds.

But the moment I opened the door, I froze.

My stepmother was sitting in one of the old chairs in the living room, her arms crossed and her face twisted into a furious glare.

"How dare you defy me and go to the mate ceremony?" she hissed, her voice low and dangerous.

Her eyes burned with anger, and I shrank back, trembling. I had seen this look before. I knew what it meant.

In her hand, she held a long wooden stick.

I gasped, fear clutching at my throat as I took a step back.

My heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst. I knew what was coming, and I couldn't stop the fear that froze me in place.

I was already hurting from Devon's attack. My body ached, my hands were bleeding from the glass, and my cheek still stung from his slap. But she didn't care.

Before I could explain or defend myself, her hand lashed out, slapping me hard across the face. The force knocked me off balance, and I fell to the floor, hitting the cold tiles with a thud.

"You think you're special?" she hissed, towering over me. "You're nothing but the daughter of a whore!"