Royal Wolf Surrogate

Lydia's POV

The moon hangs fat and luminous in the night sky.

In exactly seven minutes, it will reach its apex, and I will turn eighteen.

I know this because I've been tracking the moon phases for weeks, marking each one on the small chart I've hidden beneath my mattress. Tonight's full moon will signal my birthday—the moment every young wolf waits for.

The moment we might find our mates.

I sit cross-legged on the flat rock by the eastern creek, far enough from the pack house that no one will notice my small celebration. The sounds of laughter and music drift from the main clearing where the pack's monthly gathering is in full swing—a celebration I wasn't invited to.

Not that I expected an invitation. Wolfless omegas don't get invited to pack gatherings.

The small bundle of herbs and moonflowers I've collected lies before me, alongside a jar of water I've left out to absorb the moonlight. It's not much of a birthday ritual, but it's mine.

"Thank you for this," I whisper, thinking of Heather from the kitchens who secretly gave me the jar and herbs.

"Everyone deserves something special on their birthday," she'd said, pressing the items into my hands when no one was looking. "Even if you have to make it special yourself."

Her kindness had nearly made me cry. Small gestures mean everything when you're nobody.

I sprinkle the dried herbs into the moon water, watching them swirl and dance. According to pack lore, drinking moon water on your eighteenth birthday might help reveal your mate's identity. It's probably just a superstition, but hope is all I have.

The soft crunch of leaves behind me makes my heart stutter. I whirl around, nearly knocking over my precious moon water.

"Well, isn't this pathetic?"

Piper stands at the edge of the clearing, her golden hair gleaming in the moonlight. She's wearing a stunning blue dress that matches her eyes, clearly dressed for the pack gathering. The scent of expensive perfume and alcohol surrounds her like a cloud.

My stomach twists into knots. Of all the people to find me here, it had to be her.

"What are you doing out here all alone, little Lydia?" Her voice drips with false sweetness. "Planning some sad little birthday ritual?"

I clutch the jar closer to my chest. "Please leave me alone, Piper."

Her eyes narrow dangerously. "Did you just give me an order?"

Before I can respond, she's across the clearing, her hand connecting with my cheek in a stinging slap that sends me sprawling. The jar slips from my fingers, spilling across the rock.

"You don't tell me what to do," she hisses. "You're nothing. Less than nothing."

My cheek throbs as I watch my moon water seep into the cracks of the stone. Hours of preparation ruined in seconds.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, keeping my eyes down. "I didn't mean—"

"What's going on here?"

That voice. Deep, commanding, achingly familiar.

Marcus Slade steps into the clearing, moonlight casting shadows across his sharp features. He's dressed formally in dark pants and a crisp button-down, his coffee-brown hair styled perfectly. He looks every bit the future Alpha he's destined to be.

My heart does that stupid little flip it always does when I see him, despite everything.

"Marcus," Piper purrs, immediately softening her stance. "I was just checking on our little omega. She's having a birthday pity party out here."

His eyes find mine, and for a moment—just a fleeting second—I see something like concern flash across his face. It reminds me of the boy who once defended me from bullies, who taught me to skip stones across this very creek.

That boy is long gone.

"Get up," he says, his voice hard.

I scramble to my feet, wincing as my palm scrapes against the rock.

"What's this?" Marcus asks, nudging the scattered herbs with his boot.

"Nothing," I mutter.

"She was doing some pathetic mate-finding ritual," Piper laughs, wrapping herself around Marcus's arm. "Can you believe it? As if anyone would want to be mated to a wolfless freak."

Marcus's expression darkens. "Is that true, Lydia? You think you're going to find a mate tonight?"

I say nothing, but the heat crawling up my neck betrays me.

"Look at me when I'm speaking to you," he commands, and my head snaps up automatically, responding to the dominance in his voice.

"Yes, Alpha Heir," I whisper.

His lips curl into a mocking smile. "You remember when we were kids, and you used to tell everyone you'd be my Luna someday?"

The memory burns like acid. We were eight. I didn't know any better.

"Marcus, don't," I plead softly.

"That's not my name to you," he snaps. "You will address me properly."

I swallow hard. "Alpha Heir."

"Better." He steps closer, towering over me. "You know what's funny? Even back then, I knew you were nothing. I just felt sorry for you."

Each word is a dagger. I remember a different Marcus—one who held my hand during thunderstorms, who shared his lunch when the other cubs stole mine.

"We were friends once," I say, finding a shred of courage. "How can you be so cruel now?"

Something flickers in his eyes—pain? regret?—before hardening again.

"Friends?" He laughs, the sound hollow and cold. "Being reminded of that makes me sick. Playing with the pack charity case was just something to pass the time."

Piper giggles, pressing herself closer to him. "She actually thinks someone would want her as a mate. Can you imagine? Some poor wolf getting stuck with her?"

"No wolf deserves that punishment," Marcus agrees, his eyes never leaving my face. He seems to be drinking in my pain, savoring it.

I glance at my moon chart. Three minutes until midnight. Three minutes until I turn eighteen.

"Please," I whisper. "Just let me have this moment alone."

Marcus's eyebrows rise. "Oh, she wants privacy for her special moment." He turns to Piper. "Should we give the birthday girl what she wants?"

Piper's smile is venomous. "Absolutely not."

In one swift movement, she snatches my moon chart and rips it in half, then quarters, scattering the pieces into the creek.

"No!" I cry out, lunging forward only to be blocked by Marcus's broad chest.

"Know your place," he growls, his dominance pressing down on me like a physical weight.

I sink to my knees, tears streaming down my face. It wasn't just a chart—it was weeks of hope, of counting down to this moment when everything might change.

"Look, Marcus," Piper coos, "she's finally where she belongs. On her knees."

Marcus stares down at me, his expression unreadable. "You really thought tonight would be different, didn't you? That turning eighteen would somehow make you matter?"

I say nothing, watching the pieces of my chart float away on the current.

"Answer me," he demands.

"Yes," I admit, my voice barely audible. "I hoped."

His laugh is bitter. "Hope is for people who deserve it."

The moon inches higher. One minute left.

Piper pulls Marcus into a kiss, making sure I have a perfect view. Their bodies press together, her hands tangling in his hair. They're putting on a show, reminding me of everything I'll never have.

I close my eyes, unable to watch. The seconds tick by, each one bringing me closer to eighteen.

Suddenly, the air shifts. A strange warmth floods through me, starting in my chest and radiating outward. My eyes fly open as an unfamiliar sensation ripples under my skin.

And then I smell it—a scent so intoxicating it makes my head spin. Pine needles, winter frost, and something wild and untamed that calls to something deep inside me.

I rise to my feet without conscious thought, drawn toward the source of that scent.

Marcus breaks away from Piper, his eyes wide as he stares at me. He takes an involuntary step in my direction.

"What are you doing?" Piper demands, grabbing his arm.

He doesn't seem to hear her. His gaze is locked with mine, pupils dilated.

"Mate," I breathe, the word escaping me like a prayer.

The world around us fades. There's only Marcus and me and this invisible thread pulling us together.

"No," he whispers, but it sounds more like he's trying to convince himself.

Piper looks between us, realization dawning on her face. "No. No way. This isn't happening."

Marcus's expression transforms from shock to fury in an instant. He physically recoils, taking several deliberate steps away from me.

"This is impossible," he snarls.

But we both know it's not. The mate bond doesn't lie.

His face hardens, jaw clenching as he makes his decision. I can see it in his eyes before he even speaks, and my heart begins to fracture.

"I, Marcus Slade, future Alpha of the Moonshadow Pack," he announces, his voice ringing with authority, "reject you, Lydia Winters, as my mate."

The words slam into me like physical blows. Each syllable breaks another piece of my already shattered heart.

The connection between us severs—not completely, it can never be completely broken—but enough that I stagger backward, gasping at the pain.

Marcus doesn't wait to see the aftermath of his rejection. He grabs Piper's hand and stalks away, leaving me alone by the creek with the moon at its apex and my birthday wish in ruins.

I collapse onto the flat rock, curling into myself as the pain of rejection washes over me in waves.

Happy birthday to me.