Afraid Of My Mate

Scarlett's POV

I smelled him on her before I saw them together.

Sandalwood and cedar—Alexander's scent, the one that used to make my wolf purr with contentment.

Now it clung to another woman's skin like a brand of ownership, thick enough to taste at the back of my throat.

Faye. His childhood sweetheart.

His "true love" who'd rejected him five years ago, who'd walked away to chase her dreams in the city, who'd abandoned him when his pack was on the brink of collapse.

But as Luna, I didn't even know when she'd returned.

No one had asked for my approval—pack law be damned.

And by the time I found out, she was already standing in my place, basking in the glory I'd bought with blood.

The grand ballroom glittered with success.

Pack members laughed, champagne flutes clinking in toasts to our rise—from tenth place to second in the Continental rankings.

A victory I had bled for. Sacrificed for.

And my husband was celebrating it with his mistress in his arms.

I stood frozen in the arched doorway, still wearing my coat from the drive over. My fingers crushed the fabric of the garment bag I carried—the white silk gown I'd designed for TOMORROW NIGHT, diamonds sewn into every seam.

Yes. Tomorrow night.

Everyone had told me the banquet was tomorrow.

I'd believed them like a fool.

If I hadn't overheard the seamstress mention it during my fitting, I would've stayed in the dark. Excluded from my own pack's celebration while another woman took my place.

"Luna?!" My maid, Ruby's shocked voice cut through the music like a knife.

Every head in the ballroom swiveled toward me.

The whispers started immediately:

"Didn't Alpha say Luna was sick?"

"Are you a puppy? You still believe those lies—"

"Oh goddess, so both of them are here—"

Each word was a needle piercing my chest.

But the real fool wasn't these guests.

It was me. I was the biggest idiot of all.

My wolf, Kara, snarled deep in my chest.

"Rip their throat out."

I wanted to. I was supposed to be the bravest female warrior in our pack.

But right now, I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

Across the room, Alexander's hand slid lower down Faye's back—possessive, deliberate, public.

And he was looking directly at me while he did it.

His blue eyes, the ones that used to soften when they found mine across a room, held nothing but cold warning now.

Don't make a scene. You know what's at stake.

Bastard.

That's when Faye saw me.

Her green eyes widened with theatrical surprise, her red lips forming a perfect O of false concern.

She pressed one manicured hand to Alexander's chest—a gesture of intimacy that made bile rise in my throat—and leaned in to whisper something that made his jaw clench.

Then she looked at me again and smiled.

Triumphant. Victorious. Mine.

Bitch.

How could I possibly tolerate this?

The ten steps across that ballroom floor felt like walking through fire.

Every eye tracked my movement.

The music faltered, then died completely. Conversations cut off mid-sentence. Even the servers froze, champagne bottles suspended in mid-pour.

I could smell their fear spreading through the room like smoke.

Good. They should be afraid.

I was the daughter of the Winter Pack. I had chosen Alexander as my mate when he was nothing but a struggling heir to a dying pack.

I had merged our territories during my father's memorial ceremony, had convinced my people to accept him as their Alpha when they'd wanted to tear him apart.

I had worked tirelessly to repair the rift between him and my people, had even pretended he'd been in control all along.

IT'S ME who had made him.

And now, when our pack had reached its peak, he dared to humiliate me like this? What was his purpose in doing this? He wanted the entire pack to know that only Faye was his true Luna?

Impossible.

The Winter Pack would never tolerate betrayal.

My heels clicked against marble—each step a declaration of war.

Alexander moved to intercept me, stepping in front of Faye like a shield.

His broad shoulders blocked her from view, but I could see her peering around him, watching me with barely concealed glee.

"Scarlett." His voice carried the tone he used in Council meetings—authoritative, dismissive, as if I were a subordinate instead of his mate. "Now's not the time for this conversation."

I stopped three feet away, close enough to see the muscle jumping in his jaw. Close enough to smell Faye's jasmine perfume mingling with his scent. The combination made my stomach turn.

"I think now is exactly the time," I said, my voice ringing clear across the silent ballroom. I looked past him to Faye, who had the audacity to meet my gaze with feigned innocence. "If you plan to humiliate me in public, then I will defend my dignity in public."