The Alpha Prince's Rejcted Mate

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

AUBREY

Oh heavens, why did he call my name like that? The intensity in his voice makes my stomach flip. Does he want to talk about last night? I cringe inwardly, imagining how mortifying that conversation would be. As he approaches, something catches my eye – marks on his arms. My brows furrow as I study the distinct crescent shapes. Are those... nail marks? My heart starts racing. Where did he get those?

"Hmm," Aria hums, her voice dripping with mischief.

"Aria," I warn, dread creeping in. "What did you do?"

"Don't hate me, but I thought it would be best..." she trails off, and suddenly, the locked memories from last night come rushing back like a flood. Oh, my Goddess!

My hand flies to my mouth as the scenes replay in vivid detail – Knox's heated touches, his fingers bringing me to heights I'd never known, my nails digging into his arms as pleasure overwhelmed me. The memories are crystal clear now. When I'm that exhausted from... release, Aria can easily take control, even locking away memories she thinks might upset me.

"Why the hell are you just telling me now that he touched me?" I scream internally, panic rising in my chest.

"Because I know you," she retorts. "You had a meltdown over a kiss. I couldn't imagine your reaction to knowing he made you come with his fingers."

I run my hands through my hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. "Oh my god, Aria, you've killed me."

"I'm so—" she starts, but Knox's voice cuts through my internal crisis.

"How are you feeling?" he asks softly. His whole demeanor is different from yesterday morning – gone is the cold, commanding presence, replaced by something warmer, almost tender. It makes this so much worse.

I force my lips into what I hope is a normal smile and manage a weak nod. Words feel impossible right now – how do I face him knowing what his fingers did to me last night?

"We should talk about last night." His voice is gentle but firm.

I squeeze my eyes shut, silently begging the ground to open up and swallow me whole. The memory of my breathless moans echoes in my mind, making my cheeks burn.

I part my lips, having no idea what I could possibly say that wouldn't make this situation even more mortifying when a voice calls out to Knox. I look over to see Aston approaching, and relief floods through me. Thank heavens! Knox is called to the front to lead the warriors in today's training session, and I've never been more grateful for an interruption in my life.

My relief is short-lived when Knox adds in a low voice, "We'll continue this conversation later." He holds my gaze for a moment before walking away, and I finally release the breath I didn't know I was holding. Thank heavens for small mercies.

I begin to make my way to the back of the training grounds, trying to blend in with the other warriors as they gather for today's session. The morning sun glints off their leather armor and practice weapons, and I'm just starting to feel like I might survive this day when—

"Aubrey, join me here."

I spin around so quickly I almost lose my balance. My heart pounds, and for a second, I convince myself I must have misheard. But no—there he is. Knox, standing at the front, his posture expectant, his gaze steady, as if this is the most natural thing in the world. Waiting for me.

Why?

A sharp pang of confusion and dread grips my chest. My feet feel rooted to the floor, but my mind is a whirlwind. Did someone plan this? Is it some kind of cruel joke? Is today officially "torment Aubrey" day? My cheeks burn, and I struggle to piece together what I could have done to deserve this public spectacle.

I shake my head softly, trying to decline without making a scene, but Knox isn't having it.

"Nonsense, come up here," he insists, his voice carrying across the training grounds.

I force what I hope is a polite smile onto my face. "I am not worthy to train your warriors, Your Highness."

"You're my mate and earned the position of my personal guard," he announces, his voice filled with pride that makes me want to disappear. "No she-wolf could be more perfect to lead today."

My vision actually swims for a moment. I can feel everyone's eyes on me now, their gazes heavy with newfound appreciation. Their whispers reach my ears – about how impressive I must be, how skilled, how special. My stomach churns.

"No, I'm not that great," I want to scream at them. Earlier, when the maids were proud of me, it felt different – simpler, somehow. But this? This means I have to prove myself. What if I fail? What if they see I'm not as skilled as the rumors claim?

The memories of Jax manor crowd my mind – the sneers, the whispers, the contempt. Would these warriors treat me the same way once they see my weaknesses? Would it be even worse, having raised their expectations so high?

“Deep breath.” Aria’s voice cuts through the chaos in my mind, steady and sure, a lifeline in the storm. Her tone is rich with the calm authority I’ve come to rely on, grounding me even when everything else feels like it’s slipping away. I force myself to obey, inhaling deeply. The air feels sharp in my lungs, but my racing heart begins to slow, just a fraction.

“You earned that position through your skill,” she reminds me, her words curling through my thoughts like a protective growl. “Nobody else. Show them those skills once again.”

My hands clench at my sides, nails pressing into my palms. I focus on the sensation, drawing strength from it. She’s right, I think, letting her quiet confidence settle over me like a shield. Her presence hums through me, a steady rhythm that refuses to falter.

“You’re right,” I whisper aloud, my voice soft but resolute. My fingers uncurl, steady now. “I can do this.”

I walk to where Knox stands, and he greets me with a small smile that I manage to return despite my nerves.

“Why don’t we spar?” he suggests, his tone casual, but the weight behind his words makes me pause. My eyebrow lifts almost involuntarily, surprise flickering across my face. This wasn’t what I expected—not at all.

He catches the hesitation in my expression and offers an explanation, his voice calm and assured. “It’s also a form of training,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re skilled, and they’ll learn from watching both of us.”

The logic is sound, and yet my instincts bristle, caught between unease and the challenge in his words. My thoughts race for a moment before settling. Fine, I think. If this is what’s needed, I’ll do it. My chin lifts as I nod, the decision firm now. “Alright,” I agree, feeling the eyes of the onlookers already burning into me.

As Knox takes his fighting stance, a breeze carries his scent toward me – cedar and storm rain

mixed with something uniquely him. I shake my head, trying to clear it. I can't let his proximity affect my focus.

My heart hammers against my ribs as I position myself, acutely aware of the circle of warriors watching us. Their eyes feel like physical weight on my shoulders.

I got this!

Knox strikes first, swinging toward me, but I block it smoothly.

"So, about last night," he says casually, and I stare at him in confusion. The momentary distraction nearly costs me as his next strike barely misses my shoulder.

Why is he bringing this up now?

"Don't you think this is an odd time for that conversation?" I manage to say, blocking another strike.

“Actually, I think now’s perfect,” he replies smoothly, his fist already darting toward my midsection. His words distract me just enough—I react too slow. The hit lands solidly, driving the air from my lungs. My stomach caves under the impact, and I double over slightly, a wave of pain radiating outward.

Sympathetic groans ripple through the crowd, and I don’t need to see their faces to know what they’re thinking. She’s all talk. The doubt creeps in, whispering in my head, insidious and cruel. But I know what he’s doing—he’s trying to rattle me, to make me lose focus.

Knox’s next move proves it. His fist halts an inch from my face, hovering deliberately like this is just some kind of sparring exhibition for their benefit. Something deep inside me snaps, a fiery coil of frustration and humiliation bursting free.

“Shut up!” I snarl, the growl reverberating in my chest as I lunge forward. The motion is instinctive, primal. My forehead connects with his nose in a sharp crack, and he stumbles back, caught off guard. A faint trickle of blood appears at the corner of his mouth, bright against his pale skin.

Oh heavens, I didn’t mean to hit him that hard. Guilt crashes over me like a wave, and in that brief hesitation, the world tilts. Before I can process what’s happening, I’m flat on my back. The impact I expect doesn’t come, though—Knox’s hand cradles the back of my head just before it can slam against the ground, his other hand firm against my throat.

“Never let your opponent’s words or your own feelings compromise your defense,” he says, his voice low and steady, his face far too close to mine. The intensity of his gaze sends a jolt of heat to my cheeks.

He smirks, clearly pleased with himself, and rises smoothly to his feet, pulling me up alongside him with an effortless grip. “There you have it, folks,” he announces to the crowd. “A perfect example of not letting conversation distract you in battle.”

A ripple of understanding passes through the warriors, some nodding in agreement. Then, with that signature cocky grin, he adds, “And let’s hear it for your crown princess. She made your future king bleed—I don’t see any of you managing that.”

Laughter breaks out, followed by applause, the sound rolling over me like a warm wave. I blink, caught off guard, my earlier guilt and doubt melting away. Maybe I haven’t embarrassed myself as thoroughly as I thought.

Maybe, just maybe, I’ve proven something here today.