A Werewolf's True Mate
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The wolf who once prided himself on pristine presentation now seemed entirely neglectful of pack appearances.
"Luna," he called, stepping from the shadows between territorial markers. He clutched a bundle of blood-red wolfsbane, a traditional reconciliation offering.
"I understand everything now. Though your mating with Dominic is legitimate, you bonded after knowing each other for merely a moon cycle. You cannot possibly love him. You orchestrated this to wound me, didn't you?"
He extended the flowers, clearly expecting me to accept them as I always had in the past. I didn't reach for them, but responded with calm detachment.