His Luna Was Never the Other Woman

Backed by the murmured encouragement of the wolves crowded around him, the little pup broke free from his parents' hold and rushed toward me. Before I could react, he grabbed my hand and sank his teeth into it. Hard. The pain shot through me instantly, sharp and raw, and he didn't let go. My own wolf flinched beneath my skin, startled, but I held her still.

"Hey—" someone gasped, but no one stepped in.

The more gently Adressa crouched beside him, coaxing him in a soft, soothing voice, the deeper his teeth seemed to press into my skin, as if her words only fueled his stubbornness. Her tone was all concern, all patience, the picture of kindness. Beneath it, white jasmine and copper drifted toward me, that faint too-sweet edge like petals already beginning to turn.

"Sweetheart, let go… okay? You're scaring me," she murmured, reaching out but never quite pulling him away.

I stood there, frozen.

I couldn't exactly throw a pup off me. Couldn't raise my voice. Couldn't bare my teeth without looking like the rabid one they already believed I was.

So I swallowed everything.

Swallowed the pain. Swallowed the humiliation.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, forcing the words out as evenly as I could. "I'm sorry, okay?"

The pup finally loosened his grip, stepping back, still sniffling. My hand throbbed where his teeth had broken the skin, a dull, pulsing ache that quickly turned wet.

But Salvar wasn't satisfied.

He didn't notice the blood slowly seeping from the bite mark. Didn't notice the way my fingers trembled slightly from the pain. Didn't even glance at me properly. The scent of my own blood hung in the air between us, and he didn't so much as lift his head to it.

All he cared about was salvaging someone else's dignity.

He reached out and seized my arm just as I turned to leave.

"Selene," he said sharply, his grip tightening. "Apologize. To Adressa."

Adressa immediately put on that same gentle, self-effacing expression, tugging lightly at his sleeve as if trying to stop him. One finger drifted to the moonstone at her throat and touched it, barely, the way a wolf checks the wind before stepping into a clearing full of watching eyes.

"Salvar, it's fine," she said softly. "Really, it's not a big deal. I'm okay." She paused, lowering her gaze with perfect timing, the practiced submission of a she-wolf who knew exactly who was watching. "It's just the little one… he got hurt, and he's probably scared."

Her words were modest.

Her tone was forgiving.

And yet, they only made everything worse.

Salvar's attention shifted instantly.

His eyes dropped to the back of her hand, where a faint red mark had formed, barely noticeable, nothing compared to the blood on mine.

But to him, it was everything.

Something in his expression softened, almost pained.

Then, just as quickly, it hardened again as he turned back to me. Black cedar and cold iron rolled off him, that ash and bitter clove undertone sharpening as his alpha aura pressed down over the table, and every lower wolf in the den dropped their gaze on instinct. Every wolf but me.

Before I could react, he grabbed my injured hand and shoved it straight into the bowl of hot broth that had just been set on the table.

The heat hit me instantly.

The broth wasn't boiling, but it was scalding enough. The liquid soaked into the fresh bite wound, salt and heat combining into a sharp, searing pain that shot up my arm like silver under the skin.

My entire body jerked.

A gasp tore out of me before I could stop it.

The pain was unbearable.

It spread, burned, throbbed, every nerve screaming at once. My wolf threw herself against my ribs with a sound I'd never heard her make, low and broken. My fingers curled involuntarily, trembling as I tried to pull back, but his grip held me in place for a second longer. An Alpha's grip. The kind that didn't negotiate.

"Selene, what is wrong with you?" Salvar hissed, his voice low but cutting. "You need to be taught a lesson."

My vision blurred slightly from the pain.

Still, I looked up at him.

"Is that who I am to you?" I asked quietly, my teeth clenched so tightly they ached.

I already knew the answer.

But I still asked.

Maybe some part of me hadn't fully given up yet.

Around us, the whispers grew louder. The other wolves in the family-run den weren't even pretending to look away anymore.

"Wait… so which one is his actual mate?"

"Are you blind? Obviously the one he's protecting."

"Yeah, look at them. Scents all tangled up together, matching everything… it's obvious."

Their voices weren't even hushed anymore.

Their gazes shifted toward me, heavy with something worse than judgment.

Pity.

"Hey, enough is enough," a wolf at a nearby table muttered. "Another few seconds and you're going to scald her hand to the bone."

Only then did Salvar hesitate.

I stood there, my lips pale, my body still trembling slightly from the pain, and yet, somehow, I was smiling.

A faint, fragile smile.

I looked straight at him.

And for the first time, something flickered in his eyes.

Unease.

Just for a moment.

Then he let go.

He released my hand as if nothing had happened, reached for Adressa instead, and took her by the arm.

"Let's go," he said quietly.

And just like that, he walked away with her.

Didn't look back.

Didn't say another word.

His scent thinned and faded toward the door, black cedar and cold iron pulling away from me until the place where he'd stood held nothing at all.

When I got home, the den felt colder than usual. The hall was dark, the inner bolt still drawn the way he always left it, as though guarding the threshold mattered more than the wolf locked inside it.

A notification flickered across my crystal communicator.

He had sent a healer's salve for the burn, ordered through some courier, dispatched to my door like a parcel left for a stranger.

I stared at it for a long moment before opening the message that came with it.