Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets Chapter 46

Beta Ash’s POV

The sun wasn’t harsh today, and the wind had just the right kind of bite to keep my thoughts from spiraling. I didn’t come to the stables often unless it was for training or calming my wolf after a mission, but today? I came to breathe. To think. To not think.

After what happened earlier in my room, I needed this.

The stable boys had already prepped the horses for morning exercises, and I picked mine without much thought. A big, dark gelding with attitude. Perfect match.

“Let’s ride, brute,” I muttered as I mounted.

The stable yard was empty enough for me to race without spectators. Good. I didn’t feel like dodging curious glances or hearing whispered theories about the Beta going soft or spiraling from stress.

I tightened my grip and kicked off.

The horse took off like it had been dying to stretch its legs. The rhythm of hooves pounding the earth, the wind howling in my ears, the sharp sting of cool air—it helped. It always helped.

Faster. I leaned in.

Every muscle in my body focused on control, posture, and balance. No overthinking. Just movement.

I raced two more laps around the wider perimeter until sweat clung to my back, and my breath came out in sharp huffs. The gelding beneath me slowed instinctively, sensing my shift in energy.

“Beta Ash!” a voice called from behind the fencing.

I exhaled a curse, straightening in the saddle. A young pack guard stood there, nervous and fidgety.

“What is it?” I asked, already knowing I wouldn’t like it.

He bowed slightly. “Lady Irene has returned. She’s… looking for Alpha Enzo.”

I blinked once. “And?”

“Well, Alpha Enzo isn’t in the estate. He’s—”

“I know,” I cut in, already opening my mental link.

Enzo. Irene’s back. She’s asking for you.

His reply came almost immediately. Handle her. Tell her this pack isn’t her damn amusement park. If she wants to play princess, she can do it elsewhere.

I sighed and nodded to the guard. “I’ll handle it.”

He bowed again and vanished.

Just perfect.

I wasn’t in the mood to deal with the spoiled daughter of a politically dangerous family. But a spoiled daughter with a superiority complex and a thirst for power? Even better.

I returned the horse to the stables, cleaned up briefly, and was on my way to the front courtyard when I saw her.

Irene.

Goddess, she never changed.

Riding in like she owned the pack, hair styled in perfect waves, lips painted blood red, a smug look on her face as though everyone here owed her an apology for not worshiping the ground she walked on.

She dismounted gracefully, her coat flowing behind her like some royal cape, and eyed me like I was a puzzle piece she hadn’t finished playing with.

“Ash,” she smiled, strolling toward me. “Where’s your Alpha?”

“Busy,” I said flatly. “And he asked me to make sure you don’t treat his home like a rehearsal stage.”

Her smile faltered for a moment. “That’s rude.”

“I can be worse.”

She laughed, waving off the edge in my tone. “Still prickly as ever, I see.”

“And you’re still good at pretending you’re welcome.”

Her eyes glinted at that, but she didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she turned her head toward the ranch paths behind me.

“I saw you riding earlier,” she said. “Still chasing freedom, I see.”

“Some of us have nothing to prove, Irene.”

“Oh? Then why the need to sweat out your frustrations?”

I rolled my eyes. “Do you want something, or should I escort you to the gates myself?”

“I want a race.”

I raised a brow. “What?”

“A horse race,” she repeated, grinning. “You and me. Like we used to do back in the Northern pack years ago.”

“I’m not ten anymore.”

“Neither am I,” she said, pulling her gloves tighter. “But I still remember beating you.”

“You cheated.”

“Of course I did,” she winked. “Still counts.”

Part of me wanted to turn around and pretend this day hadn’t happened. But the other part—the one that didn’t mind showing Irene she wasn’t nearly as graceful as she thought—smirked.

“Fine. One lap. Around the east perimeter.”

“Winner?” she asked, climbing onto her horse with the grace of someone raised in royalty.

“Gets the satisfaction of seeing the other eat dust.”

“Fair enough,” she purred.

We positioned ourselves at the edge of the trail, both horses snorting impatiently.

“One,” I counted, “Two. Three!”

We were off.

At first, I let her get ahead. She liked feeling superior. But halfway through, I leaned forward, pushed harder, and caught up. Her eyes widened when I passed her, the look of surprise making me grin.

But as we rounded the final bend, something happened.

Irene’s horse stumbled.

Not hard—but enough to throw her off balance.

She let out a startled cry as her horse veered off the path. I cursed and halted mine immediately, jumping down and running toward her.

“Irene!”

She was on the ground, groaning, her ankle twisted unnaturally and one palm scraped badly.

“Damn it,” I muttered, kneeling beside her. “You alright?”

“My ankle…” she hissed.

I took one look and knew it was sprained. Nothing too bad, but painful nonetheless.

I slid an arm under her legs and another under her back, lifting her easily into my arms. “Why do you always have to prove something?”

“Maybe I just like the attention,” she said weakly.

I rolled my eyes and carried her toward the benches near the stable. A few guards rushed to assist, but I waved them off. I grabbed a cold wrap from the first aid shed and wrapped her ankle.

She watched me closely the entire time. Too closely.

“You haven’t changed,” she said softly.

“Not for you,” I replied without looking up.

“You were always the gentlest one of them.”

“Only when I need to be.”

I fastened the wrap tightly and was about to get up when her hand suddenly reached out and caught mine.

I paused.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

I stared at her. “Don’t do that.”

She sat up slightly despite the pain and leaned in. “Why not? You’re still unattached. I’m still… me.”

“And that’s exactly the problem.”

But she didn’t stop.

Her lips pressed against mine, sudden and unwelcome.

I didn’t kiss her back.

I didn’t even move.

After two seconds, I pulled away and stood up.

Her face fell. “Seriously?”

“You’re not what I want, Irene,” I said calmly. “You never were.”

She looked away, masking her wounded ego with a laugh. “You’re not even flattered?”

“No.”

I grabbed a towel and tossed it toward her.

“You need to stop chasing what isn’t yours.”

I turned without waiting for a reply and walked off, fists clenched.

Enzo owed me for this.

Big time.