The Wolfless Luna

“What?” Seraphina’s breath caught in her throat. This had to be some kind of nightmare. “You heard me,” Ethan said, his voice calm but cutting. He walked over to the couch where Zara sat, extending his hand toward her. Without hesitation, Zara placed her delicate fingers into his strong grasp, a soft, triumphant smile spreading across her face. “Zara will be my Luna,” Alpha Ethan declared, wrapping an arm possessively around her waist. He watched Seraphina closely, revelling in her reaction. “Honestly, it’s a good thing the wedding was called off. You’re wolfless, after all.” His smirk deepened, his eyes cold and unforgiving. “At least Zara is an Omega. Not some weak, powerless woman who can’t even control her urges.” Each word was a dagger to Seraphina’s heart. The pain in her chest tightened as Ethan continued, throwing cruel insults her way. She couldn’t believe it. The same man who had cost her everything—her wolf, her future—was now standing before her, mocking her for

Seraphina had just finished watering the garden when she stepped into the grand kitchen, ready to help the maids prepare breakfast. The air was filled with the rich aroma of spices, and the sound of cheerful chatter filled the space. Zara had ordered a lavish meal that morning. Seraphina quietly chopped vegetables, listening to two maids gossip as they worked beside her. “Zara’s wedding is going to be the talk of the town,” Asa, a freckled maid, said excitedly. “I heard we’re all invited,” Merilyn, the other maid, responded with a grin. “Really?” Asa’s eyes lit up. “Yes. Absolutely. I even picked out a lovely sundress for the occasion.” Seraphina’s hands stilled. Her heart clenched. Zara was marrying Ethan. The man who was supposed to be hers. Her fiance. Zara was ruthless. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away. “Be careful with the chicken broth,” Asa scolded, watching Merilyn sprinkle in black pepper. “Don’t overdo it—she’s pregnant, remember?”

Seraphina stirred beneath an unfamiliar weight. The blanket was thick and soft—far too luxurious for someone like her. A soft exhale left her lips as her body shifted, tangled in warmth. In her dream, the night air smelled like blooming jasmine and wild rain. Moonlight poured over a garden straight out of a forgotten realm, casting shadows across the soft petals and dewy grass. There, he stood—tall, massive, radiant in the silver glow. A Lycan. He wasn’t just big. He was monumental. His broad chest rose and fell slowly, like the steady beat of a drum, and his arms circled her as if she was the only thing in the world worth holding. He pulled her against him, close—so close she could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat through his skin. Safe. For the first time in years, she felt it. No pain. No fear. Just his touch, warm and steady. She looked up at him, into eyes that burned like pale fire. His lips met hers—firm, demanding, hungry. The kind of kiss that claimed and consu

The room was dim and cold, lit only by the soft glow of a desk lamp. Shadows clung to the corners like cobwebs. Prince Nicolas sat alone in a high-backed, carved chair, his massive frame wrapped in a dark blue robe trimmed with silver thread. The silk hugged him like a lover, outlining his broad chest, part of which was exposed through an unfastened button.He sighed and shut his eyes. A headache throbbed just behind his forehead, dull and persistent. Silence wrapped around him, until a soft knock broke it apart.“Come in,” he said, even though he wasn’t in the mood for company. But the scent had already reached him—floral, musky, familiar.Mira.She stepped in, moving with the slow, deliberate grace of someone who knew she was being watched. Her black dress was tight, short, and unapologetically revealing. Her breasts nearly spilt from the top, and her long blonde hair, usually tied back, now cascaded down her back in waves. Her hips swayed with every step.“Good evening, Your Grace,

The room fell into a stunned silence the moment Prince Nicolas made his announcement. It was as if the very air had frozen mid-breath.Around the stone table, the Lords exchanged wary glances, hushed whispers buzzing like flies in a crypt. Then Ogar—the Minister of Health—raised his hand, his expression carefully neutral."Your Highness," he began, his voice a measured blend of caution and respect. "It is unheard of for an Arcadian Lycan, much less one of royal blood, to take a human as a mate."He paused, letting the weight of his words settle before continuing. "And even more so... one with no bond. No sacred tie. No mark of fate."Nicolas listened in stillness, arms crossed behind his back like a soldier standing guard over his fury. The rest of the council remained mute, their disdain for Seraphina etched in every cold glance they threw her way.They didn’t see a woman. They saw an intruder. A threat. A human."I hear you," Nicolas said finally, his voice calm—too calm. "I hear yo