His Luna, His Regret

The moon was full that night—round, silver, merciless.It hung high above the Nightfang Pack grounds, bathing the ceremonial clearing in pale light that made everything feel too exposed, too honest. The sacred stones shimmered, etched with ancient runes older than any living wolf, and the air buzzed with anticipation. Wolves crowded the clearing—warriors, elders, omegas, nobles—every rank present, every gaze fixed on the center.On him.Alpha Kael Nightfang stood tall before the Moon Altar, broad shoulders squared, dark hair tied back at the nape of his neck. Power rolled off him in suffocating waves. He was every nightmare and every fantasy whispered among unmated she-wolves—ruthless, commanding, devastatingly handsome.And he was my mate.I stood at the very edge of the clearing, half-hidden behind taller wolves, my fingers clenched tightly around the rough fabric of my dress. My heart beat so hard it hurt. Each thud echoed in my ears, louder than the drums, louder than the murmurs

Alpha Kael Nightfang had faced battlefields soaked in blood without flinching.He had stared down rival Alphas, crushed rogue uprisings, and executed traitors with his own hands. Fear was a weakness he had long since burned out of himself.Yet as he bolted upright in his bed, a sharp, unfamiliar pain tearing through his chest, fear wrapped icy fingers around his heart.Kael dragged in a harsh breath, his claws sliding out involuntarily as he pressed a hand against his sternum. The sensation wasn’t physical—not entirely. It was deeper, rawer. Like something inside him had screamed and gone suddenly, terrifyingly quiet.The mate bond.No.He growled low in his throat and forced his claws back, his jaw tightening until it ached. The room around him was dark, lit only by moonlight spilling through tall windows carved into stone walls. The Alpha chambers were silent—too silent.“She’s gone,” he muttered, though he didn’t know how he knew.Kael swung his legs over the edge of the bed and st

Morning broke with a thin veil of mist clinging to the forest floor.Lunaria woke slowly, tension coiled tight in her body. For a heartbeat, she forgot where she was—then the rough stone beneath her and the scent of damp earth brought everything rushing back.The cave.Rogue land.Freedom bought with pain.She pushed herself upright, wincing as stiffness protested through her limbs. Her chest still ached, but it was different now—less like a bleeding wound, more like a scar still healing. When she pressed her palm over her heart, warmth met her touch, steady and reassuring.We are not breaking anymore, her wolf said quietly.Lunaria exhaled. “No. We’re not.”She stepped outside the cave cautiously. Sunlight filtered through the trees, scattering gold across the forest floor. The land felt… alert. Not hostile, not welcoming—but aware of her presence.As if it was waiting to see what she would do.Hunger twisted her stomach again, more urgent than before. Power or not, she still needed

The summons came at dawn.Silver flames ignited along the ancient stone pillars that ringed the Council Hall—visible from every major pack territory. It was a call no Alpha could ignore.Alpha Kael Nightfang stood on his balcony when the light flared, jaw tightening as his wolf growled low in his chest.“The Council,” he muttered.They had felt it too.Within hours, Kael was riding hard toward the neutral mountain range where the Council ruled from a fortress older than pack law itself. Snow-dusted peaks loomed ahead, sharp and unforgiving, mirroring the tension coiled in his gut.Every mile closer, the burn in his chest deepened.She’s there, his wolf insisted.“No,” Kael growled aloud. “She wouldn’t walk into their den.”Yet unease followed him like a shadow.The Council Hall was carved directly into the mountain, its vast chamber lit by moon-crystals embedded in the walls. Twelve thrones formed a circle—one for each ruling elder. The air thrummed with ancient authority.Alphas stoo

The valley woke with her. Morning light spilled over rolling hills, catching on dew-kissed grass and ancient trees whose roots twisted deep into the earth like veins. Birds sang—soft, cautious at first, then bolder, as if testing whether this new presence would allow them to live. Lunaria stood at the center of it all, barefoot on warm soil, eyes closed. She breathed in. The land breathed back. Power did not surge this time. It settled. This place accepts you, her wolf said quietly. Lunaria opened her eyes. “Then I’ll protect it.” Nyra approached from the edge of the clearing, her arms crossed, expression unreadable. “Scouts from three directions last night,” she said. “None crossed the boundary.” “Because they felt it,” Lunaria replied. Nyra nodded slowly. “They’re afraid.” “I don’t want fear,” Lunaria said. “I want respect.” Nyra smirked faintly. “Fear usually comes first.” Word spread faster than even Nyra expected. By midday, wolves arrived at the val