Sunlight filters through the curtains as I wake, my mind a tangled mess of thoughts. One rises above the rest—my mate's cold words from last night. The rejection still stings, leaving a hollow ache in my chest. Why would he say that? What does he truly mean?
After showering and dressing in a simple outfit—comfortable jeans and a soft sweater that makes signing easier—I make my way downstairs. The emptiness of my bed last night haunts me. In all the stories I've heard about mates, they complete the mating process within hours of finding each other. Yet here I am, alone and unwanted.
The grand staircase leads me to the main hallway where a beautiful brunette stands waiting. Her hair falls in loose waves over her shoulders, and she wears a friendly smile that immediately puts me at ease.
"Good morning, Luna," she says with a warm expression.
My hands move in practiced signs, accompanied by a returned smile. "Hello and I'm not your Luna yet."
"But you're our Alpha King's mate."
"Yes, I am but I have not been marked by him," I sign, tilting my head to show her my unmarked neck. The absence of his claim feels like an unhealed wound.
"Even so, I should still call you Luna."
"Not really. We could argue all day whether you should call me Luna or not. Can you please tell me who you are and why you're here," I sign, trying to be polite but direct.
"My name is Anastasia, but you can call me Ana. I'm the beta's mate. I'm here to take you to breakfast."
"Oh. Why can't I have breakfast here? I remember seeing a kitchen when Dan showed me around. I could easily cook something for myself."
"We have breakfast in the pack house so they can do a head count."
"Breakfast is compulsory around here?" I ask, my hands moving with surprise.
"No, but it's necessary to attend. And why wouldn't anyone want to eat breakfast? It's the first meal of the day!" she says, her enthusiasm brightening her entire face.
"Sometimes you might not be hungry."
"That's true. We should get going so we're not late."
"Alright, let's go," I sign, following behind Ana as she leads us outside.
The morning air carries the scent of pine and earth as we walk along a stone path to another imposing building. The pack house stands tall and proud, its structure similar to the Alpha's house but with a more communal feel. Inside, we enter a huge dining area dominated by an enormous wooden table that could easily seat twenty people. The room buzzes with conversation, silverware clinking against plates.
"Does everyone eat together?" I ask Ana.
"Not really."
My hands request clarification. "Explain, please."
"The Alpha King eats with his officials while lower rank members eat with each other."
"Oh, and where are we going to sit?" I look around at the filled seats, suddenly nervous about where I belong in this hierarchy.
"You're going to sit there while I sit beside my mate," she says, pointing to the right side of the Alpha King—my mate. He's seated at the head of the table, his powerful presence drawing my eyes immediately. His scent—rich and distinctly him—reached me the moment I walked in, setting my pulse racing.
"Oh," I sign and start walking toward where she pointed, each step bringing his scent stronger. I reach my mate's side, and deep within me, I feel Eva stir. A soft growling of delight vibrates through my consciousness at being so close to him. This is the first time Eva's shown any reaction since we arrived.
'How are you feeling?' I ask Eva. She was badly injured during the fight when I was forced to remain in wolf form.
'I'm good, thanks to your human doctors,' she replies, her mental voice stronger than it's been in days.
'That's good.'
'Why has our mate refused to mark us?' The question carries her confusion and hurt.
'Why are you asking me like I would know the answer to that?' I respond.
'I'm sure he's angry at us because you dated that stupid human boy.'
'He's not stupid but—oh what am I saying? Yes, you're right, Kevin is stupid. But I don't think the Alpha King knows we dated anyone.'
'Don't say we, human. I told you I hated that boy around us.'
'Don't worry, you won't be seeing him for a long time,' I reassured her, a bittersweet pang hitting my heart despite everything.
'You can't imagine how happy I am to hear you say that.'
I snap back to reality when a deep voice cuts through my internal conversation.
"Are you going to stand there all day or sit down?" My mate says, his tone harsh. His dark hair is perfectly styled, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass. He wears a fitted black shirt that emphasizes his broad shoulders. Yet for all his physical perfection, I still don't even know his name—he's never bothered to introduce himself properly.
"Sit down," he says, and I take my seat, the wooden chair cool beneath me.
"You sitting here does not mean what I said yesterday has changed. It would be wise for you to remember that," he says, not even looking at me as he speaks.
"I never assumed," I sign, keeping my expression neutral despite the hurt blooming in my chest.
"Good, because I'm never going to make you my Queen. I don't need a Luna."
"Why?" My hands tremble slightly with shock. I know I might not be the best fighter, but I feel I'm a strong wolf and worthy to be a Luna.
"Because I don't need a woman making things difficult for me."
"How would I make things difficult?" I sign, struggling to keep my fingers steady.
"The only thing you women contribute is making men weak."
"How?" The single sign conveys my disbelief.
"I don't need to explain everything to you. My decision is final. I'm never making you Luna Queen."
"If you don't plan to make me Luna Queen, why am I here?"
"To make sure you don't become a liability."
"Excuse me?" I sign, my movements sharp with indignation.
"You heard me," he says, his dark eyes finally meeting mine, intense and unyielding.
I'm baffled. What kind of mate says that? Women aren't weak. What made him so shallow, so bitter?
Breakfast passes in a blur of tension. I can't bring myself to eat, my appetite vanished under the weight of his words. The food—eggs, bacon, fruit—remains untouched on my plate despite its enticing aroma.
Later, I find myself in the gardens with Ana, grateful for the distraction. Her kindness after noticing my mood is a balm to my wounded spirit. The garden blooms with color—roses in various shades creating a fragrant haven. The soil is cool between my fingers as we work.
Movement catches my eye—the men are outside training, and my mate leads them. My hands pause on the rosebush as I watch him. He's shirtless, his bronzed skin gleaming with sweat under the midday sun. His perfectly defined abs and powerful arms flex with each movement, muscles rippling like liquid metal. Despite my anger, I can't help imagining how those muscles would feel beneath my fingers. The mate bond pulses strongly, making my skin flush with unwanted desire. Every time he demonstrates a move, the raw power in his body makes my heart race faster.
Once we finish tending the flowers, Ana and I head back to the Alpha's house, the kitchen our destination. Finding nothing prepared, I decide to cook. The kitchen is modern and well-stocked, gleaming stainless steel appliances contrasting with warm wooden countertops. As I chop vegetables, engrossed in conversation with Ana, the knife slips.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Ana says, noticing the blood before I fully register the pain.
"Its fine. It's just a small cut and it'll heal before you know it," I sign one-handed, placing my cut finger under running water. The cool water soothes the sting as crimson swirls down the drain.
"I know but it'll still hurt before it heals."
"Don't worry, I'm—" My reassurance is cut short as the kitchen door bursts open. My mate storms in, his powerful presence filling the room instantly. His eyes, wild with something I can't name, scan my body frantically.
"Where are you hurt?" he demands, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down my spine.
"I'm not hurt," I sign, surprised by his sudden appearance and intensity.
"I felt your pain, through the bond," he growls. The admission stuns me—he feels me that strongly?
"It was a small knife wound," I argue, showing him my already-healing finger.
"If you don't know how to use a knife, then don't use one," he yells, his voice echoing off the kitchen tiles. Beneath his anger, I catch something else—was that concern?
"I'll be careful next time. I didn't know the bond was that strong since we haven't completed the mating process," I sign, my back pressing against the counter as he approaches.
He takes a dangerous step closer, his giant presence looming over me. The heat from his body reaches me even before his words do. "Just because I haven't pounded you until you can't walk the next day, or made you scream my name and left my mark on you, does not mean I can't feel you," he says, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that makes my knees weak.
By now he's backed me into the wall, the cold tile a stark contrast to the fire his proximity ignites within me. All I can do is stare into those beautiful blue eyes, darkened with emotions I can't decipher. His scent envelops me—musk, pine, and something uniquely him. My body responds traitorously, warmth pooling low in my belly with every word he speaks. He can transform my anger into desperate want with just a look. This man will be the death of me.
"I'll be extra careful next time," I sign, my chest rising and falling rapidly. I can feel my breath bouncing back on me because of how close we are, his face mere inches from mine.
"Good," he says, the single word carrying untold promise before he abruptly turns and walks away, leaving me breathless and confused against the kitchen wall.
