My Mate Rejected Me and Crowned His Mistress Luna

The ceremony took place under a full moon, just the two of us and the ancient stone circle that marked sacred ground in the Lycan territory. No crowds. No politics. Just Jericho and me, and the bond that had saved my life.

He stood across from me in the moonlight, his dark eyes reflecting silver. When he reached for my hands, that familiar electricity sparked between us, but softer now. Familiar.

"Kaia Ross," he said, his voice carrying across the silent clearing. "I claim you as my mate, my equal, my Queen. From this night forward, your battles are mine. Your joy is mine. Your life is bound to mine."

My throat tightened. The words were simple, but they meant everything. No one had ever called me their equal before.

"Jericho Hayes," I whispered back. "I accept your claim. I give you my loyalty, my strength, my heart. From this night forward, we stand together."

When he pulled me close and pressed his lips to the mark on my neck—the one that had appeared the night we met—the bond flared bright and hot between us. Complete. Unbreakable.

I was his. He was mine. And for the first time since that night in the mud, I felt whole.

---

The pregnancy hit me like a freight train.

I'd been feeling off for weeks—nauseous, exhausted, my wolf restless in a way I couldn't explain. When the healer confirmed it, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"You're carrying a pup," she said gently. "But given your late-bloomer status, this won't be easy. Your body is still adjusting to your wolf. Adding a pregnancy on top of that..."

She didn't finish, but she didn't have to.

Jericho never left my side. When the morning sickness got so bad I couldn't keep anything down, he held my hair back and brought me water. When my wolf grew agitated and I couldn't sleep, he shifted and curled around me, his presence calming the chaos inside.

"You're stronger than you think," he told me one night, his hand resting on my growing belly. "This pup is lucky to have you as a mother."

I wanted to believe him. But some nights, when the pain got bad and my body felt like it was tearing itself apart, I wondered if I was strong enough for this.

Then Eddie was born, and nothing else mattered.

He was tiny. Perfect. His eyes were Jericho's—dark and knowing—but his hair was mine, soft and light. When they placed him in my arms, my wolf surged forward, protective and fierce.

Mine. Ours.

But the healer's face was grave when she examined him.

"His wolf spirit is weak," she said quietly. "He's a late bloomer, like you were. He'll need constant protection until his wolf awakens."

Jericho's hand found mine, squeezing tight. "Then we'll protect him."

And we did. For five years, we built a life around Eddie. A safe life. A happy one.

Until the letter arrived.

---

The Grand Alpha Summit. New York.

I stared at the formal invitation, my hands shaking. The Lycan Council was calling all pack leaders to address rising Rogue activity. It was political. Necessary. And it meant going back to the place that had destroyed me.

"You don't have to go," Jericho said, reading my expression.

"Yes, I do." I set the letter down, forcing my voice steady. "I'm your Queen. If you're going, I'm going."

He studied me for a long moment. "Then we do this smart. We keep your identity hidden until the main Gala. Let's see which packs can be trusted before we reveal who you are."

I nodded, but my wolf was already restless. She remembered New York. Remembered the mud and the rain and the pain.

She wanted blood.

---

The hotel lobby was massive, all marble and gold and the kind of luxury that screamed old money. I kept my sunglasses on, my hair tucked under a baseball cap, Eddie's small hand gripped tight in mine.

Jericho was arriving later with the formal entourage. For now, I was just another guest. Anonymous. Safe.

Then I smelled it.

Cedar and smoke. The scent hit me like a punch to the gut, dragging up memories I'd buried deep. My wolf snarled, recognizing it instantly.

Alistair.

I turned, and there he was. Older. Harder. His jaw was shadowed with stubble, his eyes ringed with exhaustion. He looked like a man barely holding himself together.

He looked like hell.

Our eyes met across the lobby, and I saw the exact moment his wolf caught my scent. His nostrils flared. His pupils dilated. He took a step toward me, his expression shifting from exhaustion to something hungry.

"You," he said, his voice rough. "I don't know you."

I should have walked away. Should have grabbed Eddie and disappeared into the crowd.

But I didn't.

"No," I said quietly, my voice steady despite the chaos in my chest. "You don't."

He moved closer, and I could see it now—the way his pack was failing. The weight of bad decisions pressing down on his shoulders. He looked at me like I was salvation.

He had no idea who I was.

And I wasn't ready to tell him.