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The Luna Who Refused to Kneel Novel Cover

The Luna Who Refused to Kneel

After three years of being treated like a substitute, the protagonist is discarded by her partner for his former flame. She chooses a new path by marrying the powerful Alpha of the North, but her enemies plot her death using wolfsbane in a wine cellar. Her true Mate, the Northern King, rescues her before she is subjected to dark sorcery meant to steal her bloodline. Ultimately, she watches her former lover face exile as she claims her rightful place as the one true Luna.
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Chapter 2

Nancy: [Aren’t you really coming over? It’s been five years since we last met.]

Ansel: [I need to head back first, the dog needs to be fed. Once I calm things down, I’ll come see you, baby.]

He put his phone away, pushed open the car door, and walked into the villa he had prepared for me—a gilded cage in all its splendor.

“I’m back.” His voice was low and deep.

I was curled up on the sofa, sorting through application materials for my trip to the Northern Territory. Hearing his voice, I snapped the laptop shut.

He walked toward me holding a massive bouquet of red roses, pulling both me and the flowers into his arms, pressing his lips against mine.

Disgusting. That kiss was utterly revolting.

“What’s wrong? Missed me?” he asked.

I stayed silent, lowering my head and burying my face into the roses. Their heavy fragrance rushed into my nose, but underneath it I could still smell the cloying sweetness of another woman’s pheromones clinging to him. My stomach churned, and I barely held back the urge to retch.

Ansel pulled out a velvet box and flipped it open before my eyes.

A diamond necklace sparkled under the living room lights, dazzling and harsh.

“Didn’t you linger over this when we were shopping a few days ago?” His gaze locked on me with a focus that could have made any woman’s heart race—any woman who didn’t know him. “Do you like it?”

Of course I remembered it. It was Nancy’s favorite designer brand.

Seeing I hadn’t spoken; he mistook my silence for delight. Leaning in, he kissed my cheek. “Stunned? Let me put it on you.”

The cold clasp brushed the skin at the nape of my neck, making me flinch involuntarily.

My fingers hovered over the necklace. “Roses and diamonds again—I almost thought you were going to propose.”

The feigned tenderness on Ansel’s face vanished instantly. His tone chilled. “When I propose, I’ll give you something better.”

“And how long will that take?”

His face turned completely cold. He hated being questioned, hated me challenging his authority.

I reached to undo the necklace. The thing felt repulsive, suffocating against my skin.

“Don’t move!” He seized my hand, pinning me to the sofa, his lips crushing down on mine again.

My body turned rigid as stone. I turned my head away, blocking his kiss, both hands braced against his chest. “I… it’s not a good time.”

“Don’t play games with me.” His voice was domineering and icy, laced with the oppressive force of an Alpha. “I know your cycle—you just finished.”

As he spoke, his hand went to tear at my clothes.

And then—his phone rang. The shrill ringtone sliced through the suffocating standoff.

I shoved him off. “It’s your phone. Answer it.”

Ansel pulled it from his pocket, irritation written all over his face. Trapped beneath him, I could clearly see the name flashing on the screen: Nancy.

“I’ll take this.”

Minutes later, he reappeared in a tailored dark suit, hair neatly styled, looking every bit taller and sharper.

“A friend’s in trouble. I need to take care of it. Go to bed early.”

From start to finish, he never noticed that this so-called “home” of his, a place he only returned to occasionally, was emptier than ever, as desolate as a model house no one lived in.

Ansel was gone for three days.

I didn’t care. My heart was a stagnant pool, incapable of stirring anymore.

I opened Nancy’s social account. She was flamboyant, updating every day.

On the first day: a photo of two hands clinking wine glasses. On his ring finger was a band—the couple’s ring from our one-year anniversary.

On the second: a sunset by the sea, with two coconut trees leaning against each other. Those same trees Ansel and I had planted three years ago on the beach of his private island.

On the third: an airport snapshot. Behind Nancy, Ansel’s tall figure appeared only as a blurred outline, yet unmistakable to anyone who knew him.

Her followers flooded the comments, asking if she was in love.

My wolf, Lilith, raged in my mind.

“Shameless pair of mutts! Disgusting! Just looking at them makes me want to puke!”

Like me, she no longer hoped for anything—only waited for revenge.

I shut the phone, sick of their affairs, and went out to apply for a travel permit to the Northern Territory. Everything went smoothly.

Back in the living room, I stared at the enormous framed photo on the wall. In it, I leaned in Ansel’s arms, looking as though I owned the world. But his face was expressionless, his eyes deep and empty like a bottomless well.

I dragged a chair over. I wanted to take down that mocking frame.

My fingers had just brushed the cold edge of the frame when—

Bang!

The villa door was kicked open from outside with a thunderous crash.

Ansel stormed in, his face thunderous, Alpha pheromones blazing with fury, suffocating me.

His eyes were sharp as blades, stabbing into me, then shifting to the frame at my fingertips.

“Leah, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

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