The Rejected Luna's Revenge novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: Say It Yourself
Hoyt returns to the lantern-lit Hall with Demelza's best friend on his arm and asks Demelza to speak the rejection. She makes him say it himself, and her hands are warm for the first time in a year.
Lanterns burned along the walls of Brocklehurst Hall, and every wolf in the pack stood in the great room to watch the Alpha come home.
Demelza MacShane sat in a chair by the window with her hands folded in her lap.
Her grey dress had been cut for a broader woman, and it hung off her shoulders.
Her fingers were cold, as they had been all year, so she kept her sleeves pulled down over them.
It was barely seven in the evening, and she was already fighting to keep her eyes open.
Daphne Rook perched on the arm of the chair and held out a cup of tea.
"Drink it," Daphne said. "You've gone pale."
"I'm fine."
"You've waited a whole year, Mel. You can sit down for ten more minutes."
Demelza drank. The tea was sweet with honey, the way Daphne had made it every night since the autumn.
The great doors opened, and rain blew in across the floor.
Hoyt Brocklehurst stood in the doorway with water running off his shoulders.
He filled the frame.
A year ago he had been the lean son of a dying Alpha.
Now he looked like the mountain behind the Hall.
"The Alpha's grown since spring," the Beta murmured to the guard beside him.
Wolves bowed their heads as Hoyt walked in.
At the Harvest Moon a year ago, he had stood on this same floor and felt the mate bond take hold.
The whole pack had watched.
He had told Demelza, "Wait for me. I'll send for you when the pack is ready."
Then he had left at dawn.
The letters had stopped in the third month.
Daphne had said he was busy.
Hoyt stopped in front of her chair and smiled the old smile.
"Demelza," he said. "You waited."
"You asked me to."
"I did." He looked past her shoulder. "Daphne."
Daphne set her hand on Demelza's arm for a moment. Then she stood, crossed the room, and took Hoyt's hand.
The room made a sound.
Demelza looked at their fingers, laced together, and then at Daphne's face.
Daphne's eyes were wet.
"I owe you the truth, and I'll say it in front of everyone," Hoyt said.
"The moon marked me for Daphne."
"What I felt that night was a mistake, and I'm correcting it."
Nobody moved.
By the far door stood Rafe Kincaid, the Alpha from the next valley.
He had been invited to witness the homecoming.
He held a steel thermos and had not taken a sip.
"There's a way to do this that keeps your name clean," Hoyt said.
"You say the words yourself, Demelza."
"You reject me, and you leave with your head up."
"Say the words," Daphne whispered. "Please, Mel. It's kinder. He'd have to carry it otherwise."
Demelza looked at her friend for a long moment.
Then she looked at the man she had spent three hundred and sixty-five nights waiting for.
"Why do you need me to say it?" she asked.
Hoyt's smile held. "It's custom."
"You told me to wait," Demelza said. "You told me you'd come back for me. You came back for her."
The Beta shifted his weight. A girl near the fire stopped breathing.
"If somebody's leaving," Demelza said, "then he's the one who's leaving. Say it yourself."
She did not stand. She did not look away.
A muscle moved in Hoyt's jaw.
"Demelza, don't make this ugly."
"You made it. I'm just sitting here."
Somebody coughed. Nobody laughed.
Hoyt let go of Daphne's hand.
He drew himself up to his full height.
"I, Hoyt Brocklehurst, Alpha of the Brocklehurst pack, reject you, Demelza MacShane, as my mate and my Luna."
The words crossed the room.
The pain hit him first.
He grunted and caught the back of a chair.
The whole pack watched their Alpha bend at the waist.
Something snapped inside Demelza.
It hurt for one breath.
"Accepted," she said.
She stood, and her legs held.
Nobody stopped her as she crossed the floor to the stairs.
She packed her one bag in four minutes.
Daphne followed her up and took it out of her hands.
"I'll find you," Daphne said at the door. Her cheeks were wet. "I swear I'll find you."
"Thank you for carrying it."
Rain hammered the steps. Demelza had no coat.
A heavy canvas one dropped over her shoulders. Rafe Kincaid had followed her out, and he said nothing at all.
She walked down the drive between the lanterns, through the gate and into the dark, and she did not look back at the Hall.
Halfway down the hill she stopped under the trees.
The rain was freezing, and she had come out without gloves.
She lifted her hands and stared at them.
They were warm.
For the first time in a whole year, her hands were warm.
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