The Runaway Luna
By the third year of my mate bond with Caesar, the reigning Alpha, the she-wolf who had once abandoned him returned.
For the thousand-and-first time, I launched into my well-rehearsed performance—the devoted, desperate mate. "Do you still love me?" I asked.
And for the thousand-and-first time, Caesar turned away without a word, his silence a colder rejection than any shout.
On the surface, I was the picture of heartbreak. Behind closed doors, I went straight to Caesar's uncle to collect a hefty payment for my performance.
"Three years of this acting," I said. "Can I leave now?"