Discarded by the Alpha, Claimed by the Billionaire Lycan

I took in an arrogant, haughty shifter. He never let me touch him. Sneered at my tight budget. Stormed out the door over every little inconvenience, waiting for me to chase him.

I scoured the city blocks, hunting for him. Again. Riley gripped my shoulder, halting my frantic steps. "You adopt a companion to bring you peace, Harper.

Not to cater to a spoiled brat. If he refuses to let you care for him—find someone who will." I didn't argue this time. That very night, I brought a new shifter home.

Chapter 1 "Have a seat. Make yourself at home." Cassian's massive frame folded awkwardly onto my tiny, thrifted loveseat. He tucked his knees in, trying to make himself small.

I rubbed my temples, a sharp throb pulsing behind my eyes. What the hell was I thinking? Bringing another stray shifter home on pure impulse. He caught my shift in energy instantly.

Cassian shot to his feet, his jaw tight. "If you changed your mind, I can leave.

It's fine." His dark eyes scanned the cramped apartment, his clear, youthful voice dropping a fraction. "You already have a shifter.

Won't he snap if he smells me here?" A hollow ache opened up in my chest. "It doesn't matter," I told him, keeping my voice steady. "He's not coming back.

Just settle in." I didn't go hunting for Silas this time. Knowing his explosive temper, he was gone for good. Cassian was still young and a bit curious. "Why?

Aren't you two bonded?" "No." I stared at the scuffed floorboards. "He doesn't like me." Silas's resentment was a bitter pill I swallowed on day one.

Two years ago, I found him bleeding out in a snowdrift. I never planned to take in a companion. I lived paycheck to paycheck.

Adding a shifter's appetite to my grocery bill was pure financial suicide. But he lay there. His leg mangled. His brilliant blonde hair matted and dull against the ice.

He gripped the frayed hem of my jeans, tilting his chin up. Those piercing blue eyes slammed into me, knocking the breath from my lungs. "Help me," he rasped.

On some inexplicable impulse, I dragged him home. I drained my entire savings account just to stitch him back together. Later, the truth surfaced.

Silas was the runaway heir to an elite, oldmoney shifter bloodline.

He bolted to escape a forced mating contract.The pristine, unmarked skin beneath his dirtstained clothes and the way he held his chin up even when bleeding out screamed of a life where he was never told no.

He was a walking red flag of entitlement. He demanded the finest cuts of meat, highthreadcount sheets. He sneered at the cheap offbrand groceries I scraped together.

Raised on a golden pedestal, his temper was pure venom. For two years, I walked on eggshells. He snapped over the slightest inconvenience.

He stormed out into the night, punishing me with his absence. I lost count of the times he pulled that stunt.

Yesterday, after I spent hours freezing on the pavement searching for him, Riley finally grabbed my shoulders. "Maybe he just hates being here, Harper.

Why keep forcing it?" Riley sighed. "Stop chasing a ghost. Find a shifter who actually wants your company." The words felt like a physical blow. But Riley was right.

Silas didn't need me to survive. Suffocating him with my desperation was destroying us both.

I stood there staring at the frozen pavement, a cold, hollow numbness slowly spreading through my chest.

The two years of exhausting devotion finally caught up to me, leaving nothing but quiet resignation. I gave up.

Walking back to my empty apartment, a heavy prickle erupted across the back of my neck. Muffled footsteps echoed my own. Panic spiked my adrenaline.

I spun around, bracing myself. "What the hell do you want?!" I expected a mugger. Instead, I found a devastatingly gorgeous, young shifter.

He looked like he belonged to a black hound bloodline. His dark, velvety ears were pinned flat against his messy hair in sheer panic.

His obsidian eyes went wide, hands shooting up. "I'm sorry. I just—Animal Control is doing a street sweep up ahead.

I just needed to pretend I belonged to a human." The pieces clicked into place. Unbonded strays were flooding the city. The Shifter Control Center ran brutal, daily sweeps.

Ending up in the Control Center was a death sentence. Euthanasia—or getting beaten to death in a cage—was the standard. Chapter 2 The shifter in front of me looked incredibly young.

Barely twenty, if that. He towered over me by a full head, but his frame was painfully thin beneath his oversized jacket. And he was stunning.

Messy raven hair fell into his clear, earnest eyes. It would be such a shame if a boy this pretty was beaten to death. Pity gripped my throat.

I blurted it out before logic could stop me. "Hey. Do you want to come home with me?" That was how Cassian ended up in my apartment. He claimed his memory was a black hole.

No past, no family name, no bloodline pack. As far back as he could remember, he'd just been surviving on these streets.

He hovered by the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables with surprising focus. "I've actually seen you before, you know." My knife froze over a tomato. "What?" "Two months ago.

You gave me a pastry." His ears twitched happily. "I hadn't eaten in days. If you hadn't handed me that food, I honestly might have starved." The memory slammed into me.

He had demanded fresh bakery items, then absolutely lost his mind over the ones I had brought home. "What kind of slop is this?

I swear to God, Harper!" Silas had snarled, swatting the box off the counter. "Stop being so damn pathetic. This cheap frosting tastes like plastic.

Even a stray dog would choke on it!" I had tried to explain. My bank account was overdrawn that month.

Silas had thrown a massive tantrum over the cheap cotton sheets I bought from Target, rubbing his skin raw.

Exhausted and desperate to soothe his anger, I quietly drained my last hundred bucks on highthreadcount silk sheets. That meant buying the generic, discount pastries.

Silas didn't care. He didn't listen at all, threw the pastry into the trash and slammed the door behind him. I sprinted out after him.

Instead of catching Silas, I almost tripped over a shifter collapsed by the curb. His messy black hair plastered against his forehead. His lips were cracked and bleeding.

His cheekbones jutted out sharply against pale skin. Pity seized me. I ran back inside, grabbed the remaining untouched pastry, and pressed it into his limp hands.

I never realized it was Cassian. He looked up, his eyes bright. "I knew right then you were a good person. That food was amazing.

It's the only reason I dared to follow you today." He wiped his hands on a towel. "I just wanted to thank you.

Taking me in… I never expected that." A raw, unguarded smile lit up his face. "It feels like a dream. I'm insanely lucky." I threw together a basic pasta bake, nothing fancy.

Cassian devoured it like a threestar Michelin meal. He didn't stop praising every bite. I gripped my fork, genuinely stunned. "Is it actually good?

I thought my cooking was pretty garbage." Silas constantly reminded me my food belonged in a dumpster. Cassian's brow furrowed. "It's incredible.

Why would you even say that?" He paused, his jaw tightening. "Did he tell you that? The other guy?" I stared down at my plate, tracing the rim with my thumb.

Cassian scraped up the last bite from his bowl and set it down with a solid thud. "His taste buds are completely wrecked.

This is literally the best meal I've had in my entire life." A warm, unfamiliar bubble of laughter escaped my chest. "I'm glad you like it.

Eat as much as you want." I reached over to scoop another serving onto his plate. The front door smashed open.

Silas stood in the doorway, bringing the bitter, freezing night air in with him. "Harper—" Silas barked, his voice dripping with entitlement. "Why the hell didn't you come looking for me?" His iceblue eyes zeroed in on Cassian.

His pupils contracted into tiny, furious slits. Silence thickened the air. "Who the fuck is he?" Silas growled, his tone dropping an octave. "Why are you back?" I froze.

Silas let out a harsh, cruel laugh. "Why can't I come back? This is my damn house!" He pointed a shaking finger at Cassian. "And what the hell is this?

I leave for a few hours, and you just start dragging actual street trash inside?" Chapter 3 My brow furrowed. "Don't talk to him like that." "Like that?" Silas practically vibrated with rage. "You drag another stray into my house, and you're tonepolicing me?!" He pointed at Cassian, saying coldly, "Get out, you filthy mutt!" Cassian looked at me.

He slowly set his bowl down. The velvety ears that had been perked up in joy flattened flush against his dark hair. The light in his eyes also disappeared.

A bitter, hollow smile twisted his lips. "Don't fight with him over me. I'll leave." He took a step back toward the door. "I'm used to the streets anyway. It's fine.

Thank you for the food, Harper. I was really happy today." A sharp ache clamped around my chest.

I stepped in front of Cassian, shielding him from Silas's glare. "He's not going anywhere. I'm adopting him." Silas froze, looking at me in disbelief.

He was so used to me chasing him, begging him, walking on eggshells to soothe his massive ego. He couldn't process the sudden shift in dynamics. He lost it.

Silas swept his arm across the entryway table, sending keys and ceramic decor shattering across the hardwood. "Harper, weren't you the one begging to be with me?!

How the fuck can you do this?" he roared. "I guess gutter trash loves gutter trash.

You two belong in the slums together!" "But didn't you say I was pathetic?" I kept my voice deadpan.

The memory surfaced—the last time I dragged him home out of the freezing cold, him sneering down at me. "Why are you so obsessed with me?

Do you have zero selfrespect?" The words visibly struck him. His expression fractured, rapidly cycling through shock and fury.

Unable to handle the reality check, he spun on his heel, grabbing the doorknob. My shoulders dropped. I couldn't tell if the weight in my chest was grief or pure relief.

This toxic cycle had drained me for years, but I'd always been too terrified to cut the cord. This was for the best. No more gaslighting. No more compromises.

Behind me, a faint, satisfied smirk touched Cassian's lips. But Silas froze at the door.

He whipped his head back around, his jaw clenched tight enough to snap. "Actually, I'm not leaving. You dragged me in here.

You think you can just toss me out when you're bored?!" He stalked back into the living room, throwing himself onto the sofa and crossing his long legs. "Not a chance in hell!" My apartment officially settled into a bizarre, suffocating threeperson dynamic.

The next morning, I threw together a quick breakfast for Cassian.

He practically inhaled it, scrubbed the kitchen counters spotless, and sat across from me at the tiny dining table. "Are your shifts exhausting?" He leaned in, his dark eyes tracing the heavy bags under my eyes. "Do you get a real break at lunch?" I waved a hand, downing my coffee. "I have to run out to grab food, so not really." "I'll pack you a lunch, then." Cassian's voice brightened instantly. "I saw some chicken and cherry tomatoes in the fridge.

Let me handle the cooking from now on." The bedroom door suddenly burst open. Silas walked out, wearing the silk pajamas I bought him, looking full of displeasure.

He stopped at the edge of the table, glaring down at us. "Where's my breakfast?" I pointed to a plastic tube of nutritional paste on the counter. "Right there." Silas's face contorted into an ugly scowl. "Why does he get a homecooked meal, and I get literal dog food?" I didn't even look up from my plate. "You said my cooking tasted like slop.

You said you'd rather eat paste." I took a bite of my eggs. "So eat the paste." Silas choked on a breath, completely derailed.

Cassian flashed him a bright, innocent smile. "Morning. That brand of paste is actually great. Super palatable." Silas's face went dark with pure venom.

He snatched the plastic tube and hurled it into the trash can. "Like I'd eat your garbage!" He stormed out the front door, slamming it hard enough to rattle the hinges.

Chapter 4 I calmly finished my breakfast. The old me would have been crushed by his tantrum. But human nature is a funny thing. Once you find a new anchor, the past loses its grip.

I genuinely didn't care anymore. Later that night, Cassian and I curled up on the couch for a movie.

My crappy apartment heater was losing a brutal battle against the freezing winter wind.

Cassian shifted closer. "Do you want to lean on me?" His dark ears twitched, and he quickly cleared his throat. "I mean, shifter body temp runs higher." He was my companion.

I didn't overthink it. I closed the distance. The heat radiating off his body was instantly addicting. I rarely had the chance to touch Silas; he never let me.

He also scoffed at the movies I watched, saying they were just popcorn flicks. I spent two years asking him to watch with me, swallowing two years of flat rejections.

Eventually, I just gave up and watched alone, shivering under a thin fleece blanket. Not tonight. I had a living, breathing furnace next to me.

The wind howled against the frosted glass. I instinctively burrowed deeper into Cassian's warmth.

By the time I realized it, I was fully tucked against his chest, listening to the steady, reassuring thud of his heart. The front door unlocked.

Silas stepped inside, his expression darker than the winter night. "What the hell are you doing?" I didn't even flinch.

I just pointed at the screen. "Watching TV." He stood frozen in the entryway. When I didn't scramble to explain myself, a nasty sneer curled his lips. "More mindless garbage.

Only someone with zero taste would watch this." I nodded, my eyes never leaving the screen. "Yeah. Good thing nobody is forcing you to watch.

Cassian and I are good." Silas's jaw locked. He practically vibrated with rage before storming down the hall. His bedroom door slammed shut, rattling the drywall.

Cassian leaned his chin near my shoulder, his voice a low, soothing rumble against my ear. "I think you have great taste.

I love your picks." I smiled, reaching up to brush my fingers through his dark, messy hair. It didn't matter anymore. I finally had someone on my wavelength.

Living with Cassian proved bringing him home was the smartest move of my life. Every evening, I unlocked the door to warm lights. The smell of hot food filled the apartment.

Cassian would step out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on an apron, a breathtaking smile lighting up his face. "You're back!

Wash up, dinner's ready." Our nights were spent fighting over the remote. It was the only time he refused to yield.

We'd battle it out with rockpaperscissors, laughing until our sides hurt. Whoever won, we both ended up completely engrossed in the movie.

During my shifts, Cassian picked up a parttime gig at a local florist down the block. He came home every night with the unsold inventory.

My cheap vases were constantly overflowing with fresh blooms. This was a life I never knew existed. I was so happy that I almost forgot Silas even existed in this house.

His icy glares just bounced right off me. But the tension between Silas and Cassian was reaching a boiling point.

Silas started ripping Cassian's flowers out of the vases and shoving them into the trash. He claimed severe pollen allergies. He accused Cassian of trying to assassinate him.

I frowned, crossing my arms. "We used to keep flowers on the counter all the time. Since when are you allergic?" Silas choked on his own excuse. The lie caught in his throat.

Then, his voice spiked into a defensive, earsplitting shout. "I developed an allergy! Are you clinically insane?!" Chapter 5 Cassian handpicked every single stem.

We spent the entire night arranging them. Now, they lay crushed in the trash. My heart ached, and I squatted by the trash can trying to pick them out.

A jagged shard of glass sliced deep into my fingertip. A sharp hiss tore from my throat. Crimson welled up instantly, dripping onto the linoleum.

Cassian's hands were there in a flash. His rough fingers anchored my wrist, swabbing the cut with an alcohol pad. "Careful. It's okay.

I'll bring you fresh ones tomorrow." Silas froze half a step away.

A flicker of raw guilt crossed his features before his massive ego crushed it out of existence. "It's just a damn bouquet," Silas scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. "If you want flowers, I'll buy you expensive ones.

Why are you crying over literal garbage?" The last shred of my delusion snapped. For the first time, looking at Silas made my stomach physically turn.

I lifted my chin, locking eyes with his icy glare. "I want these." "You're psychotic." Silas slammed the door behind him. The silence stretched.

A sudden, crystalclear thought pierced the quiet. It would be a relief if he never came back. Later, I drifted off on the couch during another movie.

I woke up enveloped in Cassian's heat, tucked flush against his broad chest. The words spilled out before my brain could filter them. "Cassian.

Do you want to—become official mates?" In this world, a registered bond meant a lifetime commitment. No takebacks. Legal, permanent.

Living with him, breathing his air, eating his food—he became my absolute anchor. I was suddenly, violently grateful Silas rejected my past pleas to bond. Cassian stopped breathing.

The sheer shock melted into an intense, blinding devotion that lit up his entire face. "Yes," he breathed. Forms. Photos. Data entry.

The clerk slid a heavy, embossed folder across the center counter. The official Mating Certificate. Our names printed in bold ink. Our photo pinned to the corner.

I beamed at the camera.

Cassian looked uncharacteristically stiff and nervous, but his black ears stood straight up, vibrating with pure joy. "Congratulations, you two," Cameron offered a warm, professional smile.

Stepping out into the biting winter air, Cassian kept his head bowed. His thumbs traced the gold foil on the certificate. Over and over.

I bumped my shoulder against his arm, a laugh bubbling up. "What are you staring at?" He lifted his gaze.

The winter sun caught his dark hair, painting his sharp jawline in pale gold. "Just trying to convince myself I'm actually this lucky." Two years of walking on eggshells with a toxic narcissist.

All of it faded to ash. It was just the toll I had to pay to find him. That night, Cassian covered the dining table with a massive feast. He didn't sit.

He stood by my chair, his broad shoulders pulled tight with anxiety. "What's wrong?" His dark ears gave a nervous flutter.

He dug his hand into his denim pocket and pulled out a worn velvet box. "A gift." His voice dropped to a gravelly, uncertain whisper. "It's cheap. But I swear I'll work harder.

I'll get you something better." I popped the hinge. A plain silver band sat on the cushion. I tilted it toward the overhead light.

The inner curve bore a clumsy, handcarved engraving. H & C. My throat slammed shut. My eyes suddenly felt a little hot. I looked up.

His obsidian eyes tracked my every microexpression, his chest rising and falling in shallow, erratic bursts. "It's perfect." I pushed the box back toward him. "Put it on me." A heavy, shuddering breath punched out of his lungs.

The tension snapped. His rough thumb anchored my wrist. He slid the silver band down my finger, the metal cool and solid against my skin. Then, he bowed his head.

His ragged breath brushed the back of my hand. The faint, intoxicating scent of cedar and clean soap flooded my senses.

The searing heat of his mouth sent a jolt straight to my core. Chapter 6 We drank that night. Just two glasses of cheap red wine, but my tolerance was absolute garbage.

The room tilted. A feverish heat flushed my cheeks. Cassian guided me into the bedroom. He lowered me onto the mattress, pulling the duvet over my shoulders. He turned to leave.

My fingers clamped around his wrist. "Don't go." He froze.

The amber glow of the bedside lamp carved sharp shadows across his face. "Harper," he rasped, the syllables grinding together in his throat. "Do you realize what you're asking?" I nodded, my pulse hammering against my ribs. "We're officially bonded." Silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.

Then, he leaned in. The air thickened. The heat radiating off his skin felt like an open furnace. That kiss was very light, as if he was afraid of startling something.

His hands cupped my face, his thumbs gently rubbing my cheeks. "Is this okay?" he asked in a low voice. I didn't answer, but simply reached out and wrapped my arms around his neck.

The rest of the night blurred, lost to a haze of exhaustion and wine. I only remember how his skin burned like a furnace.

He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his chest vibrating with a feral, possessive growl.

Cassian called my name over and over in my ear, his voice low and trembling slightly. "Harper… Harper…" I blacked out. Woke up to his hands dragging me back under. Passed out again.

My final fading thought was a blurry realization that young shifter stamina was absolutely lethal. I dragged myself out of a deep sleep.

Cassian's heavy arm pinned my waist, his breathing a steady, rhythmic rumble. My stomach twisted with hunger. I slipped out from under his grip and stumbled into the kitchen.

The front door clicked open. Silas stepped inside. He clutched a massive, obscenely expensive arrangement of pink roses. "Here." A faint, uncharacteristic flush stained his cheeks.

He shoved the bouquet against my chest. "You like flowers so much? These are the most expensive ones they had.

Put them in a vase." He lifted his chin, his massive ego demanding a reward. My brain stalled. Two years, and this was his first bouquet.

The petals looked flawless, practically dripping with expensive florist dew. But the only vase on the counter already held Cassian's salvaged blooms.

Silas opened his mouth to speak. His eyes dropped to my collarbone. His pupils sharply contracted. "What is—that?" His voice cracked, dry and hollow. I reached up.

My fingers brushed against the angry, dark purple bruises blooming across my throat. The hickeys were entirely fresh. The oxygen vanished from the room.

His jaw clenched so hard I heard the teeth grind together. "Harper… what did you do with him?" I opened my mouth, but the bedroom door creaked open behind me. Cassian padded out.

Shirtless. The dim hall light carved deep shadows into his heavy, sculpted chest.

The fresh scratches down his back from when I passed out were glaringly obvious. "My mate," he rumbled, his voice dripping with sleep and utter devotion.

He wrapped his massive arms around me from behind, burying his face in my hair. "Why are you up so early?" "Mate?" Silas choked on the word.

Cassian rested his chin firmly on the top of my head. A deliberate, lethal claim of territory. Silas's chest heaved. He dragged in a ragged, suffocating breath.

A vicious smirk curled Cassian's lips. He reached across the counter, snagging the heavy crimson folder. He dropped it right in front of Silas. "Oh, right.

We made it official today." Cassian's obsidian eyes flicked down to the roses. "Nice arrangement. Did you buy those to congratulate us?" Silas didn't blink.

His gaze locked onto the silver band flashing on my left hand. "You bonded—with him?" The sheer arrogance finally shattered.

His voice dropped to a desperate, pathetic whisper. "You said you wanted to bond with me