The Alpha Who Never Claimed Her

My name is Clara Quinn, and I've been mated to Nathan Hale for six years.

In the upper circles of werewolf society, we're the couple everyone envies. The Alpha head of the Hale family paired with the poised and elegant heiress of the Quinn family—we're flawless at every event we attend.

At every pack gathering, we always stand in the most prominent spot, basking in the admiring gazes of our kind.

Nathan is tall and devastatingly handsome, radiating the commanding presence of a true Alpha. His eyes shift to amber gold when his emotions run high—the mark of a pureblooded Alpha.

And me? As one of the Quinn family heirs, I was raised with the finest education, trained to be graceful and well-spoken. I'm the kind of mate every young werewolf dreams of.

But only I know the truth: this relationship has long since stagnated into still water.

Nathan is rigid, restrained, almost monastic in his self-control. His treatment of me has always been polite yet distant. His Alpha pheromones are powerful and cold, carrying the scent of fir trees and winter snow—yet he's never released even a hint of warmth for me.

In werewolf society, the mingling of pheromones between mates is the most intimate expression of connection. But Nathan has never once let his guard down in my presence.

Even the pleasures that should exist between mates feel like a scheduled appointment.

Every full moon, he arrives at my room precisely on time and calmly completes the act. The whole thing takes no more than thirty minutes. Never crossing any lines. Never losing himself in the moment.

When it's over, he politely wishes me goodnight, then turns and leaves for his own room.

Everyone envies me for being Mrs. Hale, but no one knows we've never truly completed a soul bond.

Nathan's wolf has never shown itself to me. His beast remains firmly suppressed, as if he feels no desire for me whatsoever.

Six years of marriage, and I've never once seen his wolf.

I've learned to comfort myself: *It's fine if he doesn't love me. At least we're civil to each other. I have the title of Mrs. Hale, the respect of the pack, a stable life. For many werewolves, that's more than enough.*

Until the day Nathan brought home another she-wolf.

……

It was an ordinary autumn evening. I was reading in the living room when I heard movement at the door. I looked up and saw Nathan walk in, followed by an unfamiliar woman.

I caught her scent immediately—cedar and wild roses, tinged with the stark bite of the wilderness. The unmistakable scent of a lone wolf, one who belonged to no pack.

Her eyes gleamed with a faint silver light in the moonlight. Her skin was pale as snow, and her black hair cascaded down to her waist.

Her aura was cold and aloof, like a plum blossom blooming in ice and snow—a stark contrast to someone like me, raised within the pack, with my bold and vibrant personality.

When Nathan introduced her to others, he said only one thing: *She's the lone wolf who saved my life.*

Her name was Iris.

From that day forward, everything changed.

Nathan's behavior toward Iris quickly crossed every boundary. He began spending more and more time with her, teaching her to adapt to pack life, introducing her to important figures.

He gave her the best room in the house—right next to our master bedroom. Every morning, I could smell the cedar fragrance drifting from her room, mingled with Nathan's fir scent.

What chilled me even more was how he started defending her publicly, bringing her to various family gatherings and social events. At occasions where I should have been by his side, he let Iris stand there instead.

At one pack gathering, an elder mistook Iris for Mrs. Hale. I was standing nearby and clearly saw Nathan's reaction—he didn't correct the mistake. He simply smiled faintly, and I swear I caught a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes.

In that moment, my heart felt like it had been pierced by an icicle.

At first, I was certain Nathan wouldn't truly fall for her. We had an official mate mark between us, witnessed by the pack elders, bound by a soul contract.

In werewolf society, betraying one's mate is an extremely grave offense, punishable by the condemnation of the entire pack.

But reality soon delivered a resounding slap to my face.

That night was a full moon. By custom, Nathan should have come to me to fulfill his duty as my mate. But I waited in my room for what felt like forever, and he never appeared.

I left my room to look for him. The moment I stepped onto the terrace, I witnessed a scene I will never forget.

Nathan had shifted.

A massive black wolf lay prostrate at Iris's feet, his amber eyes soft with a tenderness I'd never seen before. He nuzzled his nose against her palm, letting out a low whimper, like a pup desperate to be stroked.

In the moonlight, his wolf form was magnificent and powerful, his black fur shimmering with a silver sheen.

It was the first time in six years I had ever seen his wolf.

Not for me. For *her*.

Iris reached out and stroked his head, a faint smile playing on her lips. In that moment, I saw contentment and devotion shining in his wolf's eyes. A gentleness I had never once seen directed at me.

I stood in the shadows, trembling from head to toe. My wolf was screaming inside me—jealous, furious—but I couldn't move.

In that moment, the last shred of self-deception in my heart shattered completely.

So he wasn't incapable of losing control. He simply had never lost control *for me*. His wolf nature wasn't cold—he just didn't want to show it to *me*.

Six years of marriage. Six years of devotion. And in his heart, it all meant less than one month of gratitude for saving his life.

I turned and went back to my room, closed the door, and slowly slid down against it until I was sitting on the floor.

The mark on my neck throbbed with a dull ache—a warning from our special mate bond. The forbidden bonding ritual I had undergone to save his life.

With this particular kind of mate bond, when one partner harbors betrayal in their heart, the mark retaliates against the one who was marked.

I knew if this continued, this mark would become my curse, slowly consuming me until I could no longer shift.

But breaking the bond outright would come with its own unpredictable losses—the price demanded by this special mark upon the one who bears it.

I had to find a way out—a way to free myself while minimizing the damage.