My Mate Returned with a Luna and Child

The scent hit me before I even opened the double doors to the Grand Ballroom. It wasn't the fresh, clean fragrance of expensive blooms; it was the sharp, grassy smell of sap and destruction.

I pushed the doors open and stopped dead. My clipboard clattered against my hip.

The centerpiece arrangement—a ten-foot-tall architectural masterpiece of white hydrangeas and imported orchids that had cost more than my first car—was decimated. It looked like a lawnmower had been taken to it. Petals were scattered across the dance floor like snow, stems were snapped, and the water vases were overturned, soaking the carpet.

"Miss Harris!" The boom of Elder Marcus Steele’s voice made me flinch. The Head of the Council marched toward me, his face a mottled red that matched his tie. "Care to explain why the gala venue looks like a war zone six hours before opening?"

"I... I don't know," I stammered, stepping over a crushed orchid. "I checked this room at midnight. It was perfect."

"Perfect?" Steele swept his arm across the wreckage. "This is incompetence, plain and simple. If you cannot control your vendors, perhaps you aren't fit to coordinate a birthday party, let alone the Moon Goddess Gala."

"It wasn't the vendors," I said, my voice shaking as I knelt to pick up a shredded stem. The cut wasn't clean. It was jagged.

"Oh no! Look at the pretty flowers!"

A gasp came from the corner near the stage. I looked up to see Kyla standing there, hand over her mouth in mock horror. Beside her, little Oaklyn was clutching her stuffed bear, her eyes wide and innocent.

"It's such a shame," Kyla said, her voice dripping with syrup as she walked toward us, her heels avoiding the puddles with practiced ease. "Sebastian will be so disappointed. He was saying just last night how... overwhelmed you seemed, Ella. Maybe the pressure was too much?"

I gritted my teeth, standing up to face her. But before I could speak, that high-pitched, static whine pierced my skull again.

*Mommy let me use my claws,* the voice giggled in the center of my mind. It was Oaklyn’s wolf, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. *Rip, rip, rip. The flower lady is in trouble now.*

My blood ran cold. I looked at the child. She was smiling at me, a sweet, angelic smile that didn't reach the predator lurking behind her eyes. They had done this. The mother gave the order, and the child was the weapon.

"I am removing you from the lead position effective immediately," Steele barked, pulling out his phone. "I'll call in the reserve team from—"

"You will do no such thing, Marcus."

The deep, authoritative rumble silenced the room. Alpha Corbin Rice strode through the debris, his presence filling the cavernous space. He didn't look at the flowers; he looked straight at Steele.

"Alpha Rice," Steele stiffened, adjusting his glasses. "This is an internal Council matter."

"It's a security matter," Corbin corrected, stopping beside me. He radiated a heat that chased away the chill of the damp room. He pointed to the shredded remains of a lily. "Look at the edges, Marcus. That wasn't a fall or a vendor error. Those are claw marks."

Steele squinted, leaning down. "Claws?"

"Unless your Event Coordinator grew fur and claws overnight," Corbin said, his voice dangerously low as he cast a side-glance at Kyla, "this was sabotage. Someone let a shifted wolf into this room."

Kyla’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. Oaklyn hugged her bear tighter.

"Sabotage?" Steele straightened up, looking pale. "Here?"

"I suggest you check the security cameras before you fire the best coordinator on the West Coast," Corbin said firmly. He reached out and placed his hand on the small of my back. His palm was large and warm, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle against my spine. It was a possessive, grounding gesture that claimed me without a word.

"I... yes. Of course," Steele muttered, clearly flustered by the Alpha’s intensity. "Ella, get a cleanup crew. We have four hours."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Thank you," I whispered to Corbin.

"Don't thank me yet," he murmured, leaning close to my ear. "Look at the door."

I followed his gaze. Sebastian was standing in the entranceway. He wasn't looking at the destroyed flowers, or his wife, or his child. He was staring at Corbin’s hand on my back. His jaw was clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek, and his eyes burned with a dark, suffocating jealousy that made the air feel thin.

***

By the time the afternoon sun hit its peak, the ballroom was restored, but my nerves were frayed. To "smooth over tensions" and distract the gathered Alphas from the morning's disaster, the Council had ordered a mandatory pre-Gala mixer at the hotel pool.

I wanted to hide in my room, but as the coordinator, I had to be present. I compromised by wearing a high-necked, black cover-up over my swimsuit that reached my knees. I sat at a shaded table in the corner, clutching a tablet like a shield, pretending to check guest lists while the elite of the werewolf world mingled in the water.

"Marco! Polo!"

Oaklyn’s shrill voice echoed off the concrete. She was splashing violently in the shallow end, while Kyla lounged on a poolside chaise nearby. Kyla was impossible to miss. She wore a neon pink bikini that was little more than string and fabric, her oiled skin gleaming under the California sun. She posed, arched, and laughed too loudly, clearly trying to draw the eyes of every Alpha in the vicinity—specifically one.

"Bastian! Come put lotion on my back!" Kyla called out, waving a bottle of sunscreen.

Sebastian stood near the deep end, a drink in his hand. He wore swim trunks, his chest bare, revealing the scars of battles fought and the muscles of a powerful wolf. He didn't move toward her. He didn't even turn his head.

From behind my sunglasses, I watched him. And to my horror, I realized he wasn't ignoring her because he was distracted by business. He was ignoring her because he was watching me.

His gaze was heavy, physical, like a touch I couldn't brush off. He tracked my movements as I reached for my iced tea, his eyes tracing the line of my throat. It wasn't the look of an ex-mate. It was the look of a starving man seeing a feast through a window.

Kyla noticed. Her smile dropped like a stone. She sat up, following Sebastian’s line of sight until it landed squarely on me in my corner of shadows.

I shivered despite the heat. The flowers were just the beginning. I could feel the storm coming, and I was standing right in the center of it.