The Wolf King Reject Luna (Part Two) E-Book

Laura Dutton

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2026

Beschreibung

She was never supposed to survive his rejection.
Maya Carter grew up knowing where she stood in the pack—unranked, unwanted, invisible. When fate marks her as the mate of Kingston Blackwell, the future Wolf King, everything changes in a single night. But instead of claiming her, he rejects her. Publicly. Cruelly. And in doing so, he turns her into a target.

In a world ruled by pack law, territory lines, and power plays, rejection isn’t just heartbreak—it’s a death sentence.
Refusing to bow, Maya builds something dangerous: her own pack, made of wolves no one else wanted. As old secrets surface and rival packs circle closer, the line between survival and war begins to blur. Kingston is forced to face the cost of the throne he protected, while Maya learns that strength doesn’t come from a bond—it comes from choice.

Love doesn’t erase wounds. Power doesn’t come without loss. And some bonds demand blood before they ever offer peace.

The Wolf King Reject Luna (Part Two) is a raw, emotional paranormal romance filled with rejection, slow-burn tension, found family, and hard-earned strength. Perfect for readers who crave fierce heroines, flawed alpha males, and stories where love is chosen—not forced.

Leseprobe

The Wolf King Reject Luna (PART TWO)

Laura Dutton

Copyright © 2026 Laura DuttonAll rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the author, except for brief quotations used in reviews or other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Prologue

The Bond Roars

The Luna Trial Nobody Warned Her About

Crown Offers and Cage Doors

Rejection Turns to Revenge

King’s Crew Splits

The Night Maya Disappears

Southside’s Basement Deal

A Rescue Ain’t a Love Confession

“Say It: You Chose Them Over Me.”

Maya’s New Pack, New Rules

The Wolf King Gets Challenged

Parking Lot War

The Secret Under the Stadium

A Crown Built on Betrayal

King Chooses Wrong—Again

The Girl Who Rejected the King

The Moon Ceremony Turns Violent

Jada Takes a Hit

Kingston Breaks the Throne

No More Running

The Last Challenge: Blood and Truth

“If You Want Me, Earn Me.”

Graduation Under a New Moon

EPILOGUE

Prologue

I learned what rejection tastes like before I learned how to drive.

It’s pennies and spit and that cheap cherry gloss Serena Lane wears when she’s about to smile and ruin somebody’s night. It’s my own blood too, because I bit my cheek so I wouldn’t scream.

The fence behind Northside High scraped my palms when I hauled myself over. My backpack snagged. I kicked free and dropped onto wet grass, landing wrong on my left knee. I kept moving anyway.

“Run, Omega!” somebody yelled, and the word hit me as permission.

I’m Maya Carter. Seventeen. Five-six. Brown skin, freckles, hair shaved on one side because folks grab what they can. Track team. Fast legs. No real rank. Northside Pack calls me unranked. Everybody else calls me whatever makes them feel big.

Northside owns this city from the river bridge up to the gated hills. Southside owns the blocks past the bridge. The river is the line. Cross it without permission and somebody makes you pay. Pack law also says no shifting on school property and no killing humans. People only respect rules when it’s convenient.

Tonight I crossed the line.

Mom’s inhaler ran out. The only place open was that corner store near the bridge. Jada told me not to go alone. I went anyway with a paper bag of meds and my hood up, thinking I could slip there and back.

A growl rolled out from behind the bleachers. Not animal. A person choosing to sound like a beast.

A hand grabbed my hoodie. I twisted, elbowed, slipped out of it. Hoodie gone. I ran into the trees behind the field—thin woods pressed up against the train tracks. Footsteps came after me. More than one.

Serena’s voice floated through the trunks, sweet and nasty. “Maya, you lost?”

Claws scraped bark. Bones popped. Half-shift. They wanted fear, not a body.

A root caught my shoe and I went down hard. Dirt filled my mouth. My left knee lit up.

White teeth flashed between trees.

“Pack law says you don’t hunt on school land,” I spit out, because fear makes my mouth reckless.

A laugh. “Pack law don’t care about you.”

Then the air changed.

Smoke and pine. Cold and sharp. A scent everybody in Northside knows.

Kingston Blackwell.

They call him King. Eighteen. Alpha’s son. The Wolf King in training. The kind of boy people follow before he even speaks.

A shadow dropped between me and the boys. A calm voice cut through the dark.

“Back up.”

Serena stepped out, clearly waiting for an audience, hair perfect, lips glossy. “King, we’re just playing.”

“Ain’t a game,” he said.

Trey—one of his crew—snorted. “She crossed near the bridge. Southside air on her.”

I wanted to yell about my mom. I wanted to hold up the pharmacy label. Instead I swallowed it down. Explanations sound like begging.

King’s gaze slid to me for one second.

Something in my body sparked—hot and mean—the way a chain snaps tight. My knees went soft.

King went still.

Serena’s smile sharpened. “Oh.”

Trey blinked. “Yo, King… you—”

“No,” King said, quick and flat.

The lie sat there, ugly.

Serena laughed under her breath. “He said no, Maya. Guess you ain’t special.”

King’s eyes stayed on his crew. “Leave.”

They hesitated, then backed off into the trees, because nobody wants smoke with the Alpha’s son.

Serena drifted after them, and her voice turned soft just for me. “He won’t save you twice.”

Silence dropped heavy once they were gone.

I pushed up, clutching the paper bag because it mattered more than my pride. “Thanks,” I said, and it came out sharp.

“Don’t,” King answered.

“You show up, then act like I’m trash,” I snapped. “What’s your deal?”

His eyes flicked to the label on the bag. To my shaking hands. Something tightened in his face, then got buried.

“Go home,” he said.

“Why you here, then?”

He stared toward the river as if he could see the bridge through the dark. “You live by the tracks.”

“Yeah.”

“That area ain’t protected,” he said. “Southside slips through there.”

“I know,” I told him. “I’m the one who gets to hear it at night.”

He faced me again and that pull hit hard, rude and hungry.

“If you ever feel something around me,” he said, voice low, “you didn’t.”

I let out a short laugh, all teeth. “You don’t get to decide what I feel.”

A howl rose beyond the tracks. Southside. Close.

King’s posture changed in a blink.

He grabbed my wrist to drag me toward the fence.

The moment his skin touched mine, the spark turned into a lock. A snap. My bones knew his bones. My blood recognized his blood.

King froze.

His eyes went wide for one beat.

Then his face shut down. He let go fast, like my skin burned him.

“Go,” he ordered.

I stared at him, shaking with rage and shame and something worse. “Why you acting like I’m poison?”

“Because you are trouble,” he said, steady voice, tense hands. “And if anybody finds out what that was, they’ll use you to get to me.”

Use you.

Not choose you. Not protect you.

Another howl cut closer.

King stepped between me and the sound. “Move, Maya.”

Hearing my name from him cracked something in my chest.

I limped to the fence, climbed, dropped onto the school lawn, and didn’t look back until I hit the open grass.

King was still there in the trees, watching, guarding a secret he hated.

Serena’s voice drifted from somewhere deep in the dark, soft as smoke. “Tick-tock, King. Full moon’s coming.”

King didn’t answer.

He looked at me once more. The pull inside me yanked hard enough to make my stomach twist.

His mouth formed two words I couldn’t hear.

Stay away.

I pressed the paper bag to my chest and kept walking.

The metal taste filled my mouth again.

Senior year hadn’t even started.

And I already knew how this ends.

Public.

The Bond Roars

The bond doesn’t whisper this time—it slams into me like something that’s been waiting to break loose.

Heat tears through my chest while I’m still standing in the back room of Jada’s aunt’s salon, hands shaking over a sink that smells like bleach and old dye. King is three miles away, half-stitched, laid up on a borrowed couch, and my body still reacts like he’s right behind me. Not longing. Not weakness. Command.

I grip the edge of the sink until the porcelain creaks.

Last chapter ended with truth cutting both ways. King bleeding. King admitting he didn’t reject me because I wasn’t enough, but because I was dangerous to his crown. He didn’t beg. He didn’t lie. He just said it and let it sit between us like a loaded gun. I left him there with Jada watching him, stitches fresh, pride cracked, and my chest hollowed out.

Now something inside me wakes up.

Not soft. Not sad.

Hungry.

The lights flicker once. Then again.

Jada’s voice snaps from the other room. “Maya? You blow a fuse?”

I try to answer. My throat locks.

A sound crawls up from my ribs—low, rough, not human. I clamp my mouth shut, but it leaks anyway, a broken growl that rattles the mirror. My reflection stares back wrong. Eyes too sharp. Pupils blown wide. Freckles standing out like marks instead of skin.

This isn’t panic.

This is arrival.

I stagger back, bumping the chair. The bond stretches, tight as wire, pulling me somewhere south, somewhere closer to the river. My knees don’t buckle this time. They brace.

Jada appears in the doorway, phone in hand, braids pulled back, face already serious. “Okay. That ain’t normal.”

“Lock the door,” I say. My voice sounds layered, like something else is standing in it with me.

She doesn’t ask questions. She flips the sign, throws the deadbolt, and rushes over. “Is it him?”

“No.” I swallow. “It’s me.”

Another wave hits. My spine arches without permission. Bones ache like they’re trying to remember a shape they’ve never held. Skin burns, then cools, like sweat that isn’t sweat.

Jada backs up a step. “You gonna hurt me?”

The question lands clean. No fear. Just trust.

“No,” I say, and mean it.

The floor hums. Not shaking—listening.

Pack law says shifts come with training, with permission, with elders breathing down your neck. This isn’t that. This is my body making a call and not asking anybody if it’s okay.

I drop to one knee, then both, palms flat. The growl breaks free, louder now, echoing off tile. Hair prickles down my arms. Nails thicken, darken, split the tips. Not claws. Not yet. Something in between.

Jada’s eyes shine. “Maya…”

“Don’t touch me,” I warn, not looking up.

She steps back, hands raised. “I got you. I’m right here.”

The bond yanks again, harder. King’s presence slams into my awareness—pain, frustration, something raw and restless. He’s awake. He knows something’s wrong.

Good.

Let him feel it.

I push up, unsteady but upright. The mirror cracks with a sharp pop, a spiderweb spreading from the center where my glare hits it. I laugh once, short and shocked.

“So that’s new,” Jada mutters.

The roar comes then.

Not from my mouth.

From everywhere.

It floods the room, a sound without sound, pressure rolling outward. I feel it bounce off walls, off streets, off pack lines drawn too tight and too old. Somewhere, dogs start barking. Somewhere closer, wolves lift their heads.

Power settles into my bones like it’s always lived there.

I straighten. The pull eases, no longer dragging—more like pointing.

South.

“The river,” I say.

Jada’s face goes pale. “That’s Southside.”

“I know.”

“You can’t just—”

“I can,” I cut in, calm and sure. “And I’m going to.”

She stares at me like she’s seeing a stranger. Then she exhales hard. “You come back.”

Not a question.

“I will.”

I grab my jacket, shove my feet into sneakers, and move for the door. The lock clicks open before Jada reaches it. She watches me go, jaw set, phone already up to text whoever she trusts to watch King.

Night air slams into me. Cold. Clean. Alive.

The city looks different. Sharper edges. Thicker shadows. Every sound lands with weight. I cut through alleys, vault fences, take rooftops where I can. My knee doesn’t twinge. My breath stays steady. The bond hums low, guiding without forcing.

At the river, I stop.

Water slides black and heavy under the bridge, reflecting broken lights. Southside territory breathes on the other bank—wrong, tense, crowded with teeth that smile too much.

Pack rules say wait. Say bring backup. Say let alphas talk.

I step onto the bridge.

The air snaps.

A figure peels out of the dark halfway across. Tall. Lean. Scar down one cheek I’ve seen before. Southside runner.

“Northside mutt got lost?” he calls.

The roar rolls out of me again, quieter this time, aimed. His smile falters.

“I’m not here for you,” I say. My voice carries, flat and heavy. “Move.”

He doesn’t.

So I let a fraction of it loose.

The pressure hits him like a wall. He stumbles back, gasping, eyes wide. I don’t touch him. Don’t need to.

“Tell your alpha,” I say, stepping past. “The unclaimed girl isn’t unclaimed anymore.”

I cross the line.

Southside feels it immediately. Eyes light up in windows. Shapes move. Whispers skitter ahead of me. I don’t run. I don’t hide. The bond anchors me now, steady as a spine.

A howl splits the night—answering mine.

King.

It tears through me, equal parts fury and awe. He’s close. Too close. He’s coming, injured or not.

Good.

I reach the old warehouse near the water, the one Southside uses when they don’t want eyes. Doors hang crooked. Inside smells like oil and damp concrete.

Their alpha waits.

Older. Broad. Smile carved deep. “So you’re the noise.”

I meet his gaze without flinching. “You’ve been sending people across the bridge.”

He shrugs. “Testing fences.”

“They hold,” I say. “I don’t.”

His grin fades. “Northside already has a king.”

“Not mine.”

The bond surges, sharp and loud, filling the space until even the shadows seem to lean away. The alpha’s posture shifts, careful now.

“You think power makes you untouchable,” he says.

“No,” I answer. “I think it makes you honest.”

Footsteps crash behind me. King skids in, pale, furious, eyes blazing. “Maya, get out of here.”

I turn just enough to look at him. “You don’t get to order me.”

The words land between us, solid and final.

He sees it then. Not the bond. The change.

“What did you do?” he asks, not accusing. Amazed.

“I stopped waiting.”

Southside’s alpha laughs, nervous now. “Looks like Northside’s got a problem.”

King steps up beside me, shoulder brushing mine. The bond flares, not pleading, not sweet—aligned.

“No,” King says, voice iron. “You do.”

Silence stretches.

The alpha raises his hands. “Message received.”

I nod once. “Keep it that way.”

We leave together, not touching, not talking, the river quiet behind us. On the bridge, King finally exhales.

“You felt it,” he says.

“Yes.”

“It shouldn’t have happened like that.”

“It happened because it had to.”

He looks at me like he wants to argue. Like he knows better.

He doesn’t.

As Northside lights come back into view, the bond settles, coiled and awake, no longer something that hurts just because it exists.

King breaks the quiet. “The council’s gonna lose their minds.”

I glance at him. “Let them.”

Because now they’ve felt it too.

And they’re coming.

The Luna Trial Nobody Warned Her About

They didn’t give me time to breathe before they tried to cage me.

The last thing that happened before this was the sound—my wolf breaking through my ribs like it had been waiting its whole life to be heard. Chapter Twenty-Four ended with that roar ripping across the quad, teachers frozen, pack kids staring, King’s face going pale in a way I hadn’t seen before. I didn’t faint. I didn’t cry. I stood there shaking with heat under my skin, knowing something old had woken up and it wasn’t going back to sleep.

That was an hour ago.

Now I’m standing barefoot on cold stone, my shoes gone, my phone gone, my backpack gone. They didn’t even let me text Mom. Jada tried to push past the guards at the side door of the gym, yelling my name until someone dragged her back. I caught one look at her face—angry, scared, jaw set like she was already planning something stupid—and then the doors slammed.

They moved fast once the council decided.

Northside Pack Hall sits under the football stadium, carved out concrete and old brick, smelling like dust and oil and history nobody likes to explain. Humans think it’s storage. Wolves know better. This is where they judge. This is where they erase problems.

I’m the problem.