My Dying Luna Became My Deadliest Enemy

Gen stands near the basin in their private chambers in Hollowmere Heights, watching her mate Draven run a bone comb through his wet hair. They are supposed to leave for her father Aldren’s welcome feast at Thayer’s den in less than an hour, but the heavy silence between them is about to snap.

"I think we should try for a pup," Gen says, her voice trembling slightly.

Daven freezes, his hand stopping mid-air as he stares at her reflection in the glass. He slowly turns around, his chest bare and glistening with water droplets, his scent of cedar and dark musk suddenly turning sharp with tension.

"What did you just say?" Draven asks, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl.

"A pup," Gen repeats, swallowing down the dry lump of fear in her throat. "I want us to breed again, Draven."

Her wolf stirs inside her, a faint, desperate whimper echoing in her mind. Since he did not reject her or call for a formal pack separation after the winter solstice, she thought they were finally ready to make this mating work.

Daven lets out a harsh laugh that sounds more like a snarl. "Are you losing your mind, Gen?"

"We are entering our second year of union," Gen says, stepping closer to him, her hands clenched into fists at her sides to hide their shaking. "Our pack life is stable, and my duties as the head healer of the Silvermoon Dominion are under control."

Daven steps away from her, his jaw clenching so hard the muscles in his neck stand out. "You think this is about timing and pack schedules?"

"It is the next logical step for us," Gen says, trying to keep her voice even. "We are mates, Draven."

"Logical," Draven spits the word out like it is poison. "You think breeding a life is just a logical arrangement?"

"Why are you acting like this?" Gen asks, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs.

"I wanted a family," Draven says, his amber eyes flashing with a sudden, angry gold. "I just never thought you would want to try again."

"We need to move forward," Gen says quietly, her chest aching with a sudden, sharp pain.

"Move forward?" Draven steps into her space, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. "You mean pretend the first one never existed?"

Gen flinches as if he just struck her across the face. Her skin goes pale, and her breath catches in her throat.

"You did a great job of erasing that loss, didn’t you?" Draven sneers, his chest heaving. "You went right back to your healing cabin the next sunrise as if our pup hadn't died inside you."

"That is not fair," Gen whispers, her claws digging into her palms until she feels the sting of her own blood.

"It is the truth," Draven says, his voice cold and sharp. "My sister Mirelle had her twin pups, and you did not even blink when you helped deliver them."

"I had to do my job for the pack," Gen says, her voice cracking as she tries to hold back her tears.

"You are a machine, Gen," Draven says, shaking his head with deep disgust. "A beautiful, cold machine."

Gen stares at him, her vision blurring as the heat of his anger washes over her. "I thought we found a routine that worked for us."

"A routine?" Draven laughs, the sound completely devoid of joy. "Is that what this mating is to you?"

"We have a strong bond," Gen says, desperately reaching for his arm, but he flinches away from her touch. "Our physical connection is still there, Draven."

"Chemistry is not a mating, Gen," Draven says, his voice dropping to a flat, dead tone. "I cannot live in this cold den with you anymore."

"What do you mean?" Gen asks, her stomach dropping into a dark, empty pit of panic.

"I am not going to the feast tonight," Draven says, turning back to the basin and grabbing a dry cloth. "And I am not staying in Hollowmere Heights with you."

"Daven, please," Gen begs, her pride crumbling as she steps in front of him to block his path. "We can fix this if we try."

Daven looks down at her, his eyes entirely devoid of the warmth he used to show her during their first few months together. "There is nothing left to fix."

"You loved me once," Gen says, the words tasting like copper on her tongue. "In the beginning, when we first accepted the bond."

"What I felt for you was lust and duty," Draven says, his voice cutting through her like a silver blade. "I wanted to believe we could make it work because of the pack alliance."

"That is a lie," Gen says, her voice rising in anger. "You touched me like you loved me."

"It was just heat, Gen," Draven says, his expression turning completely indifferent. "A male wolf will knot any female when the moon is high and the scent is strong."

Gen gasps, the raw vulgarity of his words hitting her like a physical blow. Her wolf howls in agony inside her mind, curling into a tight, wounded ball.

"You are too afraid to let anyone see what is inside you," Draven says, stepping around her toward the heavy wooden door of their chambers. "You keep your feelings locked behind walls of ice."

"I was trying to protect myself," Gen whispers to his back. "I was scared."

"Well, you don't have to protect yourself from me anymore," Draven says, his hand resting on the iron latch of the door. "Because I am done trying to melt you."

"Daven, if you walk out that door, the pack will know," Gen warns, trying to find some leverage, some way to stop him from shattering her life completely.

"Let them know," Draven says, not even turning his head to look at her. "Let them see that the great healer of Silvermoon Dominion is completely empty inside."

"We are mates by law," Gen says, her voice shaking violently. "You cannot just walk away from the bond."

Daven turns his head just enough for her to see the hard line of his jaw. "Watch me."

The heavy door creaks open, and the cold draft from the hallway sweeps into the warm room, carrying the scent of the pine forests outside.

Gen takes a step forward, her hand reaching out into the empty air. "Daven, wait."

"I am going to the Elderfang Haven pack house tonight," Draven says, his voice flat and final. "My pack business there will take a few weeks."

"And what am I supposed to tell my father at the feast?" Gen asks, her chest heaving as she fights for air.

"Tell him whatever you want," Draven says, stepping out into the corridor. "Tell him your husband finally woke up."

Before Gen can say another word, the heavy wooden door slams shut, the sound echoing through the empty stone chambers like a thunderclap.

Gen stands frozen in the middle of the room, her heart beating so fast she can hear it in her ears. She looks down at her hands, still stained with the tiny drops of her own blood where her claws had pierced her skin.

She is completely alone in the dark room, the lingering scent of his cedarwood oil the only proof that he was ever there.

A sudden, sharp pain spikes in her lower abdomen, making her double over and gasp for air. She clutches her stomach, her mind racing as she remembers the strange fatigue she has been feeling for the past three suns.

Gen slowly walks over to her healing cabinet, her fingers trembling as she pulls out a small, dried moon-leaf testing kit used by the pack mothers.

With shaking hands, she drops a small amount of her saliva onto the crushed leaves and watches as they slowly turn from a dull brown to a vibrant, glowing gold.

The gold color only means one thing in the werewolf world.

Gen stares at the glowing leaves, her breath stopping completely as the horrifying truth settles into her bones.

She is already pregnant with Draven's pup, and he has just walked out the door to reject her.