The Rejected daughter chosen by the Alpha (Maya and Atila) novel Chapter 30

Chapter 30

– MAYA

I was sitting in the middle of the bed, completely still, staring at nothing, when it finally hit me.

And then I lost it.

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I fell back onto the mattress, kicked my legs, buried my face in the pillow, and let out a muffled groan of pure despair.

Why? Why me?

Dear God-he can read my thoughts. He always has.

That meant that from the very first day… from the very first damn day… Átila knew.

He knew everything. What I thought. What I felt. The things I would never say out loud-not even under torture.

rolled across the bed, clutching the pillow to my chest as if I could hide inside it. My mind ran in vicious circles. Every conversation now came with a wave of humiliation. Every thought I’d believed was safe, private, mine-Átila had heard it.

wanted to dig a hole. A deep one. And crawl inside it forever.

stayed like that for long minutes, tossing from side to side, suffering in silence, replaying every moment I’d been near him nd thought far too much about him.

When I couldn’t take it anymore, I got up.

walked to the window and pulled the curtain aside.

Outside, Átila was chopping wood.

The cold thickened the air, and the high moon lit the garden along with low lanterns scattered between the trees. He was hirtless, his body slick with sweat, muscles flexing with every precise swing of the axe. The blade came down hard, and the wood split cleanly beneath the impact. Steam rose in faint clouds with each breath he took.

I bet he was enjoying playing with me, knowing exactly what was going through my head. That’s so… unfair.”

ndignation burned hotter.

This isn’t over. I’m getting revenge.”

is if he’d heard me, he stopped. The axe hung suspended for a second, and my heart leapt into my throat.

Could he hear me from here?

held my breath. He simply picked up another log and went back to work.

shut the window with a sharp click.

This is so disturbing,” I muttered, dragging my hands through my hair. “How am I supposed to keep living in the same ouse as a man who knows everything that goes on in my head?”

paced the room, my anger growing with every step. I didn’t know if I was furious at nature for giving Atila such a stupid bility-or at him for not warning me sooner.

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Chapter 30.

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On impulse, 1 yanked the door open and marched outside.

The garden greeted me with a fine drizzle, barely noticeable at first. I ignored it. I crossed the lawn with stiff steps, the cold clinging to my skin, the scent of freshly cut wood heavy in the air. The rain intensified as I drew closer.

He had his back to me when the words shot out.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why did you let all this time pass?” My voice trembled, but it was steady. “How do you expect me to trust you, knowing you’ve spent days invading something as intimate as my thoughts?”

He stopped.

He turned his head over his shoulder and looked at me. There was seriousness there. And caution.

My chest rose and fell fast, my hands shaking as I waited.

“I was wrong not to tell you,” he said finally. “But would you have stayed? Would you have accepted my protection if you’d known from the start?”

“That doesn’t matter,” I snapped, stepping forward and pointing at him. “That choice should’ve been mine.”

“Then choose now.” He set the axe down. “Cross the portal and face the world alone… or stay here with me.”

‘I can handle the outside world on my own.”

‘You can’t, Maya.” He moved closer. “You need someone by your side.”

‘No. I don’t, I growled as the rain grew heavier.

He stopped inches from me, lowering his face, dark eyes locked on mine.

You do. Everyone does. You can start over alone and discover the world is far crueler than you imagine… or stay here… with ne. With someone you can trust completely. With a man who thinks of nothing but keeping you safe.”

My entire body vibrated. Rain streamed down his face, clung to my lashes, blending with the heat rising between us.

You didn’t have that right,” I whispered. “Now I just feel… more vulnerable than before. And embarrassed.”

Maya.” He cupped my face with both hands, careful, gentle. His voice dropped. “You have absolutely nothing to be mbarrassed about. Your thoughts are the purest things I’ve ever heard.”

A tear slipped free, and he continued, resting his forehead against mine.

Are you sure? Even when I’m cursing you out in my head?”

One corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “How could I judge you when, even when you’re angry at me, your face can’t hide what you’re thinking?” He sighed. “Stop this. Let me take care of you, little one. Trust me.”

His words struck something deep in my chest. He’d never done anything but protect me.

The fear I felt didn’t come from him.

It came from me.

The silence between us didn’t last.

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Chapter 30

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Just long enough for me to feel his mouth drawing nearer, slow and deliberate, as if giving me every chance to pull away.

I didn’t.

My heart slammed against my ribs the moment his lips met mine-a wet, hot shock that cut straight through the chill of the rain. This wasn’t a question; it was a claim. He opened my mouth with an animal urgency, his tongue sweeping in, deep and possessive. The taste of him was sharp and mint-cool, and he explored every part of me with a hunger that stole my breath. He sucked my tongue, traced the roof of my mouth, and all I could do was moan, surrendered, my fingers digging into his rain-drenched hair.

He lifted me, and I wound myself around him like ivy. We stumbled up the stairs in a whirl of locked lips and ragged breaths. In the bedroom, he laid me on the bed but didn’t crush me-he hovered, a restrained giant. His kisses moved from my lips to my chin, to my throat, each one hungrier than the last, branding my skin with the hot dampness of his mouth.

And then I felt it. Really felt it.

Through the soaked layers between us, pressed hard against my thigh, he was like iron wrapped in velvet. A rigid, unyielding pressure. Even through the dense wet denim, the shape was unmistakable: long, thick, a prominent vein throbbing against the curve of my leg. It was a primal, living weight, pulsing with the same wild rhythm as my heart. He ground into me, and a raw groan tore from his throat, tangled with my own. Every roll of his hips, every insistent press of that hard, dense heat against my softness was a naked promise of what was to come. I could feel his size, his impatience, molding against me as if he were already trying to claim me, even through the barriers of cloth.

When he pulled back just enough to look at me, his face was pure tension. Jaw tight, eyes black and blown wide, barely containing the beast within. His breath was rough, and I could see it, right there at the front of his jeans-the brutal evidence of his want. The denim was strained to its limit, shaped by the heavy, thick length of him. A dark damp spot marked the tip, a wet confession of his need.

He pressed his forehead to mine, a tremor running through his entire body. “If we keep going,” he growled, his voice almost unrecognizable, “I won’t be able to stop.”

My hands shook as I lifted them to his neck. I felt the furnace heat of his skin, the frantic pulse beneath my fingers. The words that left my lips were a rough whisper, but absolute: “I don’t want you to stop.”

Something in him snapped. Control shattered.

The kiss that followed held no softness, no hesitation. It was pure devouring. His hands, large and rough, moved over my body with final possession, and the friction of his hard frame against mine was delicious agony. And in that breathless noment, with his taste on my tongue and the imprint of his thick, demanding heat seared into my memory, I knew.

All I wanted was for him to take me. In every brutal, beautiful way a werewolf could claim his woman.

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