His Stolen Luna, His Ultimate Regret

For five years, I was the fated mate of Alpha Alan, the Luna of the Bloodmoon Pack. But for all five of those years, his heart belonged to another woman-Fiona.

On our shared birthday, the final thread of my hope snapped. I watched as she descended the grand staircase in a magnificent silver gown, a dress he had promised was a surprise for me. In front of the entire pack, she walked to him and kissed his cheek.

He always claimed Fiona was a fragile, broken wolf who needed his protection. For years, I believed his lies. I endured his indifference while he gave my dreams to her, celebrating her birthday in secret while leaving me with the hollow title of Luna.

When I confronted him, he dismissed my pain.

"She just doesn't get it," he complained to Fiona, his voice seeping into my mind through our broken bond. "Thinking a mate title can chain me. It's suffocating."

He thought he was suffocating? I was the one drowning in his neglect. He wasn't my mate; he was a coward, and I was just a cage he was forced into by the Goddess.

So I walked out of the hall, and later, out of his life. I formally rejected him. As the bond shattered between us, he finally panicked, begging me to reconsider. But it was too late. I was done being his cage.

Chapter 1

Freya POV:

The grand hall of the Bloodmoon Pack castle was filled with the scent of pine from the great hearth and roasted boar from the feasting tables. Tonight was the Annual Celebration, a night that also marked my birthday, and Fiona's.

It was also the fifth anniversary of the Moon Goddess declaring Alpha Alan Barnes as my mate. Five years, and every single one of them had felt like I was borrowing someone else's life. Every year, his eyes found Fiona in the crowd first.

My wolf paced restlessly under my skin, a low growl of anxiety vibrating in my chest. He was missing. I had scanned the throng of dancing pack members a dozen times, but Alan was nowhere to be seen.

A cold dread, familiar and sharp, settled in my stomach. I slipped away from the festivities, my soft slippers making no sound on the cold stone floors. I knew where to look. The Alpha's study.

The heavy oak door was slightly ajar. I didn't need to press my ear to it. Through the faint, crackling connection of our mate bond, a bond he so clearly resented, I could feel the echo of his private Mind-Link. It was a privilege only an Alpha could bestow, a direct line into his thoughts, and he was using it with her.

"Just a little longer, my little flame," his voice, a low, intimate murmur in the shared space of their minds, seeped into mine like poison. "The moment the midnight bell chimes, I promise my voice will be the first one you hear. The first Alpha to wish you a happy birthday."

My breath caught in my throat. A memory, sharp and hopeful, flashed behind my eyes. Two weeks ago, in the finest tailor's shop in the territory. He'd held up a magnificent silver gown, the fabric shimmering like captured moonlight. "I have a surprise for you at the celebration, Freya," he had said, his eyes for once holding a flicker of warmth. "This year will be different."

I had believed him. Like a fool, I had let that tiny spark of hope grow into a fire, thinking this was the year he would finally see me, his fated mate, his Luna.

Now, standing outside his study, I understood. The dress, the promise, the surprise-it was never for me. It was all for Fiona.

The broken link between us pulsed with his frustration, his words a bitter complaint meant only for her. "She just doesn't get it," he grumbled, and I knew he was talking about me. "Thinking a mate title can chain me. It's suffocating."

He was suffocating? What about me? For five years I had been drowning in his indifference.

"After the celebration, I'll come to your chambers," he promised Fiona, his tone softening again to that sickening, sweet warmth. "Wear the dress for me."

Something inside me shattered. The last thread of hope I'd been clinging to finally snapped. I wasn't his love. I wasn't even his Luna, not really. I was an obstacle. A cage he was forced into by the Goddess, and Fiona was his rebellion, his twisted symbol of freedom.

I turned away from the door, my movements stiff, my heart a block of ice in my chest. I walked back into the grand hall just as the midnight bell began to toll.

And there she was. Fiona, descending the grand staircase, wrapped in shimmering silver moonlight. My dress. She paused on the final step, a triumphant smirk on her lips, and walked directly to Alan, who had just emerged from the shadows. In front of the entire pack, she rose on her toes and kissed his cheek.

A pained whine escaped my wolf, a sound of pure agony that only I could hear. I lifted my chin, my eyes locking with Alan's across the room. He looked startled, a flicker of guilt crossing his features before being replaced by defiance.

Fine. Let him have his defiance.

I opened a mind-link to the entire pack, my voice cold and clear, a single thought cutting through the celebratory chatter.

"He's a coward. You can have him."

Freya POV:

The silence that followed my public declaration was a living thing, thick and suffocating. Alan's golden Alpha eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in fury. But I didn't stay to see the fallout. I turned and walked out of the hall, ignoring the stunned gasps and frantic whispers that followed me.

Later, much later, Alan came to our chambers. I was sitting by the window, watching the moon cast long shadows across the training grounds. He came up behind me, his familiar scent of pine and winter air wrapping around me. He tried to put his arms around my waist, a gesture he performed out of habit, not affection.

I flinched away as if his touch were fire. His hands dropped. For the first time, he felt the icy wall I had erected between us. Our mate bond, which should have been a warm, comforting river, was now a frozen wasteland.

"Freya," he began, his voice low.

"Don't," I said, my own voice hollow.

I didn't sleep. All night, my mind was a chaotic storm of well-wishes from pack members, their mental voices a confusing mix of birthday congratulations and awkward pity. "Happy birthday, Luna." "Are you alright, Luna?" "The Alpha seems... upset." Everyone sent a message. Everyone except my mate.

The next morning, I sat at the long dining table, pushing food around my plate. Alan entered, already dressed in his leather tunic for the day's duties. He looked at the dark circles under my eyes, a flicker of something-annoyance? guilt?-in his gaze.

"Didn't you sleep well?" he asked, his tone casual, as if last night had been nothing more than a bad dream.

I looked up, meeting his eyes directly. My voice was flat, devoid of all emotion. "Today is our bonding anniversary."

He froze, a piece of toast halfway to his mouth. A brief flash of panic crossed his face before he masked it with his usual indifference. "I've already had the steward deliver this year's tribute to your treasury," he said dismissively. "Go buy yourself whatever you like."

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. He thought jewels and gold could mend a shattered soul. My mocking gaze seemed to unnerve him, striking a chord deep within his Alpha instincts, making him defensive and irritable.

He fell back on his oldest, most reliable shield. Fiona. His voice hardened, taking on the edge of the Alpha's Command, a tone meant to brook no argument. "Fiona is different. Her wolf was traumatized as a child. She has no one but me."

The pack knew the story by heart. On her eighteenth birthday, the day a werewolf is meant to have their first shift, a fire destroyed Fiona's family castle. Her parents died protecting her, and the trauma supposedly left her wolf spirit broken, too fragile to ever complete a full transformation. It was a tragedy that won her endless sympathy.

I remembered hearing that story five years ago. I had believed it. I had believed in the Moon Goddess's plan. I had accepted our bonding ceremony, thinking my love and the strength of a fated bond could heal his misplaced sense of duty.

Now, I knew better. The Goddess hadn't given me a gift. She had chained me to a curse. And if I had known then what I know now, I would have run from this castle and never looked back. The pain of rejecting a fated mate would have been nothing compared to the slow, agonizing death of the last five years.

Freya POV:

The memory of our bonding ceremony was etched into my mind with the clarity of shame. I stood before the pack in the traditional white furs of a new Luna. Alan was beside me, his hand in mine, but his eyes were scanning the crowd. As the Elder chanted the ancient rites, preparing for the final, binding act-the Marking-a choked sob echoed through the silent hall.

Fiona. She was standing in the front row, also in a white dress, tears streaming down her face. She opened a Mind-Link to everyone, her voice a desperate, childish wail. "Alan, are you abandoning me?"

He froze. His fangs retracted. The entire pack watched as their Alpha faltered, torn between his destiny and his obsession. It was his Beta, Philip, who finally broke the spell. Philip strode forward, his face a mask of grim resolve, and forcibly escorted the weeping Fiona from the hall.

Only then did Alan complete the ceremony. He rushed it, his bite clumsy and shallow. The mark on my neck was so faint it was barely visible, a pathetic symbol of his divided heart.

Our wedding night was a farce. I waited for him in our chambers, but he spent the entire night on the balcony, his mind linked with Fiona's, soothing her hysterics. He only came inside as the sun was rising, his eyes exhausted. "She's just an innocent, broken little wolf, Freya," he'd explained. "She doesn't understand."

In the beginning, I pitied her. I truly did. I would even go with Alan to visit her, bringing her rare healing herbs from my personal garden to soothe her 'fragile' wolf spirit.

But pity quickly soured into suspicion. Fiona's grief didn't feel like grief. It felt like possession. Her eyes, whenever they landed on me, were filled with a cold, undisguised hostility. She saw me not as a Luna to be respected, but as a rival to be defeated.

The final illusion shattered one stormy night. Alan was away on border patrol when he mind-linked me, his voice laced with worry. "Fiona's wolf is unstable again. She has a high fever. Can you please check on her?"

Of course. I was the caring, understanding Luna. I saddled my horse and rode through the torrential rain to the secluded cottage the pack had provided for her.

I found her door unlocked. The room wasn't the sickbay of a frail invalid. It was a den of luxury. Empty wine bottles and plates of expensive food littered the tables. And Fiona herself was lounging by the fire, not in a sick-robe, but in a silk nightgown so sheer it was practically transparent.

When she saw me standing in the doorway, dripping wet, her face fell. The look wasn't one of a sick wolf grateful for aid. It was the pure, unadulterated disappointment of a seductress whose intended target had failed to arrive.

In that instant, I knew. She wasn't sick. She had never been sick. She had been waiting for my Alpha. My mate.