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- Herausgeber: BookRix
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
She was chosen by fate.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2026
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Unclaimed by My Alpha King
A Forsaken Mate Paranormal Romance
Scarlett A. Reed
Copyright © 2026. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without the written permission of the publisher, except for brief quotations in reviews.
PROLOGUE: The Rite of the Unclaimed
CHAPTER 1: The General from the Shadows
CHAPTER 2:The Scent of the Abyss
CHAPTER 3: The King's Submission
CHAPTER 4: The Law of the Wraith
CHAPTER 5: Scars of the Unclaimed
CHAPTER 6: The Hollow-Born
CHAPTER 7: Resonance of the Void
CHAPTER 8: The King's Grovel
CHAPTER 9: The Truth of the Blood-Moon
CHAPTER 10: The Siege of the Sun-Throne
CHAPTER 11: The Severing Chill
CHAPTER 12: Redemption in the Abyss
CHAPTER 13: The Queen of Shadows
CHAPTER'SR 14: The Final Reckoning
CHAPTER'14: The Final Reckoning
CHAPTER 15 - EPILOGUE HINT
PROLOGUE: The Rite of the Unclaimed
The Blood-Moon Ascension happens once every fifty years, and I've spent my entire life training for the possibility that I might be chosen as a royal mate.
I haven't spent my entire life training for the possibility that I might be rejected.
The ceremony takes place in the Grand Cathedral, a building so massive that ten thousand people can gather in the central chamber without crowding. The architecture is designed to amplify sound, so when the High Priest begins the Ascension ritual, his voice carries to every corner of the building with preternatural clarity.
I'm standing on the platform designated for potential mates, dressed in the white ceremonial gown that's meant to signify purity and readiness for bonding. Around me are thirty other women, each one of them selected from different regions of the kingdom because they represent the bloodlines that might strengthen the royal line.
None of us know what's about to happen.
The ritual begins with the traditional chanting, words in the old language that predate modern civilization. The High Priest circles the gathering of potential mates, and his consciousness extends outward, seeking the moment when a fated bond recognizes itself.
It's not a gentle process. The recognition of a fated mate in a crowded space is like a lightning strike. It's violent. It's absolute. It's the sensation of your consciousness suddenly reorganizing itself around a single point of focus.
When it happens to me, I feel the exact moment when King Malphas's consciousness touches mine.
The recognition is immediate and overwhelming. My body goes rigid. My breath catches in my throat. Every cell in my body suddenly understands with absolute certainty that the man ascending to the throne is the person I'm supposed to bond with for the rest of my life.
I can see him now, moving through the crowd toward the High-Throne. King Malphas is magnificent in the way that predators are magnificent. Dark hair. Sharp features. The particular presence that comes from being born into absolute power. He's thirty years old and already legendary for the wars he's won and the enemies he's crushed.
He's also looking at me like I'm a disappointment.
I watch his expression shift as the fated bond recognition hits him. I watch the moment when his consciousness registers that I'm his mate. And I watch the moment when something in his features closes off, becoming cold and calculating.
"The ritual is complete," the High Priest announces. "King Malphas recognizes his fated mate."
The cathedral erupts into celebration. The assembled nobility is already calculating the implications of the bonding. The various factions are already trying to understand how this particular match will affect the political balance of the kingdom.
And I'm standing on the platform, trembling with the weight of the fated bond recognition, waiting for the king to acknowledge me publicly.
He doesn't.
Instead, King Malphas turns to face the assembled nobility, and his voice cuts through the celebration like a blade.
"I reject the fated bond," he announces, and the cathedral goes absolutely silent.
The words hang in the air like a death sentence.
"Your Majesty," the High Priest says, confusion evident in his tone. "The fated bond cannot be rejected. The magic is absolute. You cannot sever what is fated."
"I can and I will," King Malphas says, his voice carrying the absolute certainty of someone who's never been told no in his entire life. "I have examined the woman designated as my fated mate. I have assessed her bloodline. I have evaluated her capacity to provide the kind of strength that a royal lineage requires. And I have determined that she is inadequate."
I feel my knees begin to buckle, but I force myself to remain standing. I force myself to maintain composure even as the fated bond screams at the rejection.
"The woman is powerless," he continues. "She carries no trace of the primal magic that defines the royal bloodlines. She is, in essence, an omega of the weakest sort. To bond with her would compromise the integrity of the crown and potentially weaken the kingdom's defensive capabilities."
He steps closer to the High-Throne, dismissing me with a gesture.
"I am declaring the woman 'Unclaimed,'" he says formally. "She is to be stripped of her social status. She is to be exiled from the kingdom. She is to be left in the Shadow-Lands to fend for herself. Let this be a lesson to anyone who would attempt to introduce weak bloodlines into the royal line."
The rejection hits me with the force of a physical blow.
An Unclaimed status is social death. It means I'm no longer recognized by any faction of the kingdom. It means my family is no longer responsible for me. It means I'm stripped of protection, title, and the basic rights that come with citizenship. It means I'm being exiled to the Shadow-Lands, which are the uninhabited territories beyond the kingdom's borders where wild magic runs unchecked and survival is not guaranteed.
It means I'm being sentenced to a life of isolation and struggle because I'm not powerful enough to be the mate of a king.
"Your Majesty, this is unprecedented," the High Priest says. "The fated bond cannot be severed by royal decree. The magic will not accept the rejection."
"Then let the magic rage," King Malphas says coldly. "I would rather face the consequences of defying the fated bond than compromise the royal bloodline with someone so obviously inadequate."
I can feel the fated bond screaming inside my consciousness. It's not accepting the rejection. It's fighting against it. But King Malphas is powerful enough that his will is overriding the natural magic that's supposed to make the bond permanent.
The guards appear at my side, and I understand without needing to hear it that I'm being removed from the cathedral. I'm being taken to the holding cells where I'll be prepared for exile. I'm being erased from the kingdom as if I never existed.
"Wait," I say, my voice barely a whisper. "Please. I can explain. I can show you what I'm capable of. I can prove that I'm not as weak as you believe."
King Malphas looks at me for the first time since the rejection, and his eyes are completely empty of any compassion or understanding.
"There is nothing you could say or do that would convince me to change my decision," he says. "You are Unclaimed. You are exiled. You are dead to this kingdom."
The guards pull me away from the platform, and I watch the celebration continue as if nothing significant has happened. The nobility goes back to their conversations. The High Priest begins the formal coronation ritual. King Malphas sits on the High-Throne and accepts the crown.
And I'm dragged toward the gates that lead to the Shadow-Lands.
The exile happens at sunset, as the Blood-Moon rises above the horizon. I'm given a single bag containing basic supplies and no weapons. No magic. No protection. Nothing except the clothes on my back and the absolute certainty that I'm being sent to survive in a wilderness that's actively hostile to human life.
"The Shadow-Lands will kill you," one of the guards says, not unkindly. "Most Unclaimed individuals last less than a season. You should understand that your king has essentially condemned you to death."
"I understand," I say, though I don't. I don't understand how King Malphas can reject a fated bond. I don't understand how he can sever something that's supposed to be eternal. I don't understand how the magic is allowing him to leave me standing at the gates of exile with nothing but cold certainty and the knowledge that I've been judged inadequate.
The gates close behind me, and I'm standing in the Shadow-Lands at dusk with nothing but a bag of supplies and the fated bond screaming inside my consciousness.
The bond isn't accepting the rejection. It's not fading. It's not becoming a dull ache that will eventually fade. Instead, it's becoming something else. It's becoming a wound. It's becoming a void. It's becoming the constant, agonizing awareness that the person I was supposed to bond with has deliberately, publicly, crushed me.
I look back at the gates one final time, and I understand with absolute clarity what I'm going to do.
I'm not going to die in the Shadow-Lands.
