Rejected Luna Queen

Rowan’s POV

I stared at the woman walking in tight circles in front of me, rambling about how she wants the night to go. When she is in this serious political mood. I feel like she wasn’t really my mother, not that we had any tight relationship.

Having grown up studying most of the time to become the future Alpha King and also around my nannies, we are not exceptionally close. Right now she is talking about how I am going to get a bride before the evening ends.

She knows it is a dead end. We have tried with other packs but none of them want to marry a destitute and disabled man in a wheelchair. Why would they when even my mate took one look at my wheelchair and rejected me?

I don’t blame any girl for turning me down even though I am the future Alpha King. Now I don’t even want to get married

anybody. I want to rule my kingdom, live the rest of my life alone to avoid any more rejection.All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

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My mother has scoured more than five packs already and all the girls flee at the first opportunity. Instead of choosing another pack from the city, she went to the villages where they hardly know what is happening in the world now. She thinks they will rush to be mates to the Alpha King. I doubt that though

“As soon as you get married. Nolan will come back and you will be crowned, she declared, her voice tinged with urgency.

“Why must I marry before the coronation? The people are getting anxious,” I countered, frustration evident in my tone.

They will have to wait. If you don’t marry, they won’t exactly respect you like they did your father. They are afraid of you. which is a good start but you also need something to soften the edges and that is a wife, a mate,” my mother explained, her words laced with determination.

“You know none of these girls will marry me, right? Let’s drop the charade and move on,” I pleaded, resignation creeping

into my voice.

“Don’t say that! They are from the village and they will all fall for you despite the wheelchair and whatever. They are meant to serve those village girls,” she insisted, her desperation palpable.

“And where did you get that information from, mother?” I inquired, skepticism evident in my expression.

“An insider. They keep slaves in the pack, which means they only know how to serve their husbands. Once I find a respectful

quiet one for you, then it is fixed,” my mother revealed, her eyes reflecting a glimmer of hope.

and

“You won’t find any other. I do hope you stop trying after this because even your plan x has failed,” 1 scoffed, my frustration bubbling over because this is getting ridiculous.

“Stop underestimating your mother, Rowan. I know what I’m doing; you just watch,” she asserted, her tone firm and unwavering

I said nothing, only watched through the window as three SUVs drove in towards the palace, definitely filled with young girls. I held back a frustrated growl. She has successfully brought them yet again.

“Get dressed for the evening, son. Today is the day.” With that, my mother swept past me out of the room.

Later that evening. I got dressed in my royal uniform with the help of my capable valet, who could assist me on and off the wheelchair attached to me like a second skin. Once done, I rolled myself to the elevator installed in the palace because of me.

The dining room was on the first floor, which I’m sure would be filled with girls of different ages. They will be so excited to want to be with the Alpha King, then they will find out he cannotilo anything on his own, barely able to change to his wolf form once a month.

When I reached the dining room, it was only my mother making sure everything was perfect, making me roll my eyes. This is going to flop too, and I hope she won’t try setting me up with an entire pack again to prove to everyone that she can.

“Here you are, Rowan! Impeccable as always.” She grinned as she adjusted me by the head table.

Minutes later, while I was lost in my thoughts rather than the list of girls in front of me, the door was pushed open, and several girls walked in dressed in the same outfit. They all looked the same if you asked me.

Until she walked in, looking awkwardly around the place and touching her outfit as if she wanted it off of her. I frowned at the sight of her because there was something unusual about her. She wasn’t exceptionally beautiful, but it’s just there.

They all sat down, pushing her away until she landed on the last seat farther away from me. They haven’t seen the wheelchair I was sitting on yet, and it seems like the maids didn’t tell them what I asked them to.

There are almost thirty girls in the dining room here with my mother and me. I stare blankly at them as they send flirtatious smiles and hair tucks my way. They will soon walk out of here willingly.

My mother stood beside me at the head of the room, her presence commanding attention as she addressed the gathered. girls. The room hushed to pin drop silence.

“One of you lucky ladies will have the honor of becoming the bride of our esteemed Alpha King!” Her voice rang out with an air of authority, yet beneath it, there was a hint of apprehension

As she spoke, the girls exchanged glances, their expressions a mixture of anticipation and nervous giggles. They shifted in their seats, some fidgeting with their dresses while others twirled strands of hair between their fingers.

My mother continued to chat and I could feel a rising tide of frustration within me. She is wasting time.

With a swift, decisive motion, I pushed myself away from the table, causing the wheels of my wheelchair to creak softly against the floor. The sudden movement drew all eyes towards me, and a hush fell over the room as the girls watched in surprise.

Raising my voice to address them, I interrupted my mother’s chatter. “I am indeed disabled,” I declared, my tone firm and resolute. “And as such, I cannot do… shit.”

The girls sobered. I watched as the expressions on the girls‘ faces morphed from anticipation to uncertainty, their smiles faltering as they exchanged uncertain glances. Despite my royal status, I am still disabled and that makes me undesirable in their eyes.

With a steady gaze, I addressed the room, my voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “If you cannot handle me as I am, I began, each word infused with a quiet intensity, “then you are free to stand up and leave.”

The girls exchanged uncertain glances with one another. Then, one by one, they began to rise from their seats, their movements tentative yet resolute. Like shadows slipping away in the fading light, they made their exit.

One figure remained seated, her gaze unwavering as she met my eyes. It was the weird girl that didn’t fit into her outfit and looked really out of place. There was a flicker of something in her eyes and it wasn’t sympathy.