Chapter 3

Lucas

The lobby stank of polished wood and the cloying musk of too many bodies pressed into one space. I stood near the edge, my shoulders stiff in the tailored jacket Josephine had insisted I wear. It clung too tight across my chest, a cage for the beast rattling beneath my ribs. The full moon pulsed outside, its light seeping through the tall windows, tugging at my blood like a tide I couldn't outrun. I kept my eyes on the crowd, willing my focus anywhere but inward, where the hunger gnawed.

Then the air shifted. A ripple cut through the chatter, sharp and sudden, like a blade through flesh. Heads swiveled, mouths hushed, and there she was - Leila, striding into the lobby like she'd clawed her way out of a dream I didn't want to have. My wife. The Lycan Princess. She wore a red dress that bled into the room, silk so tight it might've been painted on, blooming over her hips like a rose caught mid-thorn. Her lips burned the same shade, and her eyes - damn those eyes - swept the space with a heat I'd never seen in her before.

I froze. My chest tightened, not from the jacket but from something deeper, something feral. The urge hit me like a fist - wanting to lunge, to wrap my arms around her, to crush her against me and taste that fire on her mouth. I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms.

It's the full moon, I told myself, the words a mantra I'd chanted a hundred times. Werewolf mates turned into animals under that silver glow, all instinct and no sense. Normal. Expected. That's why I avoided her, why I'd built walls of distance since the day Moon Goddess shackled us together. I didn't love her. Couldn't. She was chaos in a crown, not the Luna I needed.

But there she stood, radiant and unignorable, her aura slicing through the room like a howl. No wonder they called her Princess. She wasn't like other women - not Josephine, not anyone. Josephine hung on my arm, her white dress soft and plain, her scent a faint lavender that faded next to Leila's blaze. I'd brought her here tonight, to this auction, to keep Leila's noise at bay. To prove I could choose calm over calamity. And yet, here Leila was, shattering that plan without even trying.

She didn't look at me. Not once. Her heels clicked against the marble, steady and sure, as she glided straight for Josephine. I watched, my pulse thudding in my throat, as she stopped and smiled - a smile too warm, too polished, like she'd rehearsed it.

"This must be Josephine, right?" Leila's voice was silk over steel, smooth and cutting all at once.

Josephine flinched, her grip on my arm tightening. Her face drained of color, the white dress suddenly cheap against Leila's crimson glow. "H-hello, Mrs. Lavoie," she stammered, her voice a whisper swallowed by the room. "You are really… very dazzling tonight."

Mrs. Lavoie. The words landed strange, heavy. Leila had never called herself that - always "Princess," always above me, above us. Hearing it now warmed something in my gut, a flicker I didn't want to name. But why wouldn't she look at me? Her eyes stayed on Josephine, steady, ignoring the Alpha standing right beside her. It wasn't like her. The Leila I knew would've stormed in, all tears and tantrums, demanding my attention. This Leila was different - controlled, composed, a stranger in my mate's skin.

The reporters buzzed at the edges, their whispers a low hum I couldn't block out.

"That's her, isn't it? Luna to Alpha Lucas."

"Lycan Princess in the flesh - look at her!"

"No wonder the pack's strong with a woman like that."

"Wait, I thought the one in white was his wife - look at that dress, what's she, an Omega? A maid?"

Josephine shrank beside me, her breath catching. I felt her embarrassment like a weight, but my eyes stayed on Leila. She reached out, her hand graceful as it closed around Josephine's, pulling her into a handshake. "I've heard the business school Lucas funds is brimming with talent," she said, her tone light but firm. "It's an honor to meet someone like you, Miss Curran. A full scholarship to study in the human world, isn't it?"

Josephine fumbled, letting go of me to clasp Leila's hand. "It's like that… I…" Her words trailed off, weak against Leila's poise.

I cleared my throat, stepping in. "Jo's brilliant," I said, my voice rougher than I meant it. "She's going abroad this year. Brought her tonight to get a feel for this world." My jaw tightened, waiting for the explosion - Leila's jealousy, her rage at seeing me with another woman. It was her pattern, her chaos.

But it didn't come. She released Josephine's hand and turned to me, her gaze calm, unreadable. "Congratulations, Luke," she said, the nickname a jab I hadn't braced for. "Take good care of Miss Curran tonight." Then she walked away, her dress swaying like a flame licking the air, disappearing into the auction venue with the media trailing her like dogs.

Luke. She hadn't called me that in years, not in public. And that tone - no venom, no storm. Just… nothing. My woman, my mate, brushing me off like I was a stranger. Irritation clawed up my spine, hot and sharp. She was mine, damn it, bonded by the moon whether I liked it or not. How could she ignore me?

Josephine's fingers brushed my arm, timid. "Alpha, are you sure you want me to hold the bidding paddles later?"

I blinked, dragged back to the moment. The full moon's pull thrummed in my veins, muddling my head. "Yeah," I muttered, barely hearing her. "Anything will do."

She hesitated, her voice small. "Alpha…"

I didn't answer. My eyes followed Leila's path, her figure swallowed by the crowd. The auction hall loomed ahead, all glittering lights and polished wealth, but my mind was a tangle of her - red dress, steady steps, that smile I didn't recognize.

What is this? Maybe the Moon Goddess had a point after all?

I shook it off, forcing my focus back to Josephine. She needed me here, not chasing a princess I'd been avoiding.