The Alpha's Fake Luna Is the Lycan King's Mate

Eleanora POV:

The morning sun had revealed an empty space beside me in bed, the sheets cold. Another night Jaxon Slate, my Alpha, hadn't come home. For five years, I had told myself it was Pack business. But the silence from my inner wolf was no longer patient; it was a dead, hollow quiet. There was no pining, no howl of longing for its other half. Just... nothing. That nothing had finally pushed me out of our suite and down to the East Wing.

"Luna, Alpha's records are top secret."

Elder Arthur Slate said it flatly, and did not look up. I stood in the Pack's archive room, the scent of old paper and stale authority thick in the air. My own breath was trapped in my chest.

"I am his Mate," I insisted, more sharply than I wanted. "I have a right to know. It's been five years, and I don't feel the complete bond. It's not normal."

Arthur watched me, his old wolf assessing my challenge. He was Jaxon's great-uncle, a man whose loyalty was to the Slate lineage, not to the woman who was supposedly its Luna. He finally let out a slow breath. "Eleanora, a Mating is only real when the Alpha's Mark is recorded by the council and witnessed by the Moon Goddess. That is the law of our kind, for a thousand years."

The hair on my arms lifted. "So, where is our record?"

He stared at me, a flicker of something - pity? - in his dark eyes before it was gone. "In the archives, there is no Marking record for you and Alpha Jaxon."

The world went silent. The blood in my veins felt like it had turned to slush. No record. The phrase cracked open the entire foundation of my life. I gripped the edge of his heavy oak desk to keep myself from falling.

"Then... what are we?" The question was a raw whisper.

With a sigh that seemed to hold a sliver of regret, Arthur pulled a file from a locked drawer and pushed it across the desk. "This is a five-year contract. Today is the final day."

My hand trembled as I picked it up. The words swam before my eyes, then sharpened with brutal clarity. "Partnership Agreement." "Five-Year Term." And there, at the bottom, was Jaxon's signature, bold and damning.

I wasn't his Mate. I was an employee whose term had just expired.

Just then, Jaxon's scent - pine and winter air - drifted in from the hallway. The door swung open. He saw the contract in my hand, and his face, usually so composed, contorted with anger and a flash of panic.

Behind him stood a smaller woman, Kiley Hayes, his supposed ex-girlfriend. Her wavy brown hair framed a delicate face, and Jaxon's scent clung to her like a second skin. She cowered slightly behind him, but not before I saw the triumphant glint in her green eyes.

A small hand clutched her dress. A little boy, no older than four, peeked out from behind her legs. He had Jaxon's light brown eyes.

My inner wolf let out a silent, agonized scream. Not of jealousy. Of utter, absolute betrayal. He wasn't just not coming home to me. He was going home to them.

"Nora," Jaxon started, taking a step forward, his hand outstretched to take the papers. Guilt warred with the annoyance of being caught.

I flinched back, clutching the contract so tightly the edge bit into my palm, a sharp, grounding pain.

I lifted my chin and met his gaze, my own eyes burning. "Five years, Jaxon," I said, my voice dangerously level. "What was I to you?"

He looked away, rubbing the space between his brows - his telltale sign of frustration. "Nora, listen to me. It's complicated."

"Jax, don't be so harsh with Nora," Kiley murmured, her voice dripping with fake sympathy.

The little boy, Finn, glared at me with his father's eyes, full of childish hostility.

A laugh escaped my lips, a broken, watery sound. I looked at their perfect little family of three and saw myself for what I was: a complete and utter fool.

The laughter died in my throat. I met Jaxon's eyes one last time. Then, I ripped the contract in half and threw the pieces at his face.

I turned and walked out of the archive room without a backward glance.

Revenge. The word ignited in my mind, a wildfire that burned away five years of love and illusion.

Eleanora POV:

I made it back to the Alpha suite, the place I had once thought was my home, and locked the heavy door behind me. The click of the bolt was the only sound in the room.

The tears wouldn't come. They had dried up the moment I saw that little boy's eyes.

I thought back over the last five years. Every time the full moon approached, Jaxon had an excuse-Pack business, a trip, a crisis. Now I knew. He was just spending it with his real family. And the "calming herbal tea" he brought me, the one he said was to ease the pressures of being a Luna? I had thought it was a sign of his love.

A soft knock came at the door. "Nora, open up. Let's talk. I can compensate you," Jaxon said, his voice laced with that practiced, gentle tone he used to get his way.

Compensate me? A bitter laugh scraped my throat. My youth, my trust, my belief in the sacredness of a Mating bond. What could possibly pay for that?

I ignored him. My hand went to my phone, to a single encrypted contact: Julian. My brother. I typed out a single message: I need help.

I didn't send it. Not yet.

Jaxon's patience wore thin. I felt the pressure of his Alpha command against the door, a forceful push of will. But the lock was special, reinforced. It held. I heard him snarl in frustration through the thick wood. A moment later, his voice echoed in my mind, a command sent through the Pack mind-link.

"Watch her. Don't let her leave the Pack House!" he snarled to his Beta.

Leaning against the door, I could faintly hear the mental chatter of the guards in the hall.

"Alpha's in a mood today."

"It's because Kiley's back. This is going to be good."

I let my head rest against the door and let myself remember home.The Carlisle estate sits on the ridge above the coast, a long grey house with a drive that takes a full minute to walk. The kitchen always smelled of bread. The older Pack members called me Miss Eleanora before I could read. My father, Marcus, used to sit with me on the east porch and name every ship on the water until the moon came up.

The memories come in pieces. That is the part I have never been able to explain - not the warmth itself, but the gaps around it. I remember Julian carrying me through the orchard on his shoulders, telling me the whole Pack would be mine the day I asked for it. I remember that I was different, even then, though no one would say how.

I do not remember my mother's voice.

I never asked for the Pack. I told my father I would choose my own life instead, and I chose Jaxon Slate. Julian didn't argue.

He only made me promise one thing - that I would be the one to call. Five years, and I never did.

They think I am nothing. Something to be moved where it suits them.

I pushed myself to my feet and walked to the vanity. One by one, I took off the diamond earrings, the sapphire necklace, every piece of jewelry Jaxon had ever given me, and dropped them into the trash can.

The woman in the mirror was a stranger - pale, with eyes that burned with a purpose I hadn't seen in years. The compliant, hopeful Eleanora was dead.

I needed proof. And I needed an ally inside this house. Clara Montgomery. The Pack's doctor and my only real friend.

I used the internal line to call her. "Clara, I'm not feeling well. Can you come to my room? And bring your testing kit."

Half an hour later, Clara arrived, medical bag in hand. The guards let her pass, their reluctance clear. The moment she saw my face, her professional calm broke. "Nora, what happened? Your scent... it's full of pain and... fury."

I shut the door and handed her a small pouch of the dried herbs Jaxon always used for my tea. "Test this. Tell me what's in it."

Her expression turned serious. She worked quickly, her portable analyzer humming softly. A few minutes later, she looked up, her face ashen.

"Nora..." she whispered, her eyes wide with horror. "This contains a high concentration of Withering Root."

"What is that?" I asked, a cold dread coiling in my stomach.

Her voice trembled. "It's an old herb. If taken over a long period... it makes a she-wolf barren. It slowly destroys the womb, making it impossible to carry a pup."

So that was it. He hadn't just cheated on my heart. From the very beginning, he had stolen my right to ever become a mother.

My fists clenched, nails digging into my palms. I didn't cry.

"Clara, I need your help," I said. "Don't tell anyone about this."

She looked at the resolve in my eyes and nodded firmly. "I'm always on your side."

From the very bottom of my jewelry box, I retrieved a small, sleek satellite phone engraved with a single letter 'C'. A gift from my brother, Julian, for emergencies.

"I'm going to leave this place," I told Clara. "But I'm not running away. I'm going to make them pay."

A new plan was forming, sharper and more vicious than simply escaping. I needed a bigger weapon. An ally so powerful he would make Jaxon Slate tremble.

My family's arranged match. The one I had always refused to even consider. The whispered name of the Lycan King.

I opened a false bottom in my vanity drawer. Inside lay a single, black metal card. On it, one name and a number.

Alistair Vanderbilt.

I would accept this alliance. Not for my family, but for my revenge.

I deleted the unsent message to my brother. It wasn't time for him to step in. I had to earn my first piece of leverage myself.

Eleanora POV:

My fingers were steady as I dialed the number on Alistair Vanderbilt's black metal card. The satellite phone felt heavy in my hand, a lifeline to a world I had long since abandoned.

The call connected after three rings. A man's voice came through the line, deep and unhurried, used to being obeyed. "Who is this?"

The sheer authority in those three words made my inner wolf shrink back. I forced my own voice to remain even.

"Eleanora Carlisle."

There was a beat of silence on the other end, a silence so heavy it felt like a physical weight. Then, the voice came again, a subtle shift in its tone. A flicker of... interest? "Carlisle. I've been expecting your call."

My heart skipped a beat, but I pushed the surprise aside. "Mr. Vanderbilt, I'm aware our families had an arrangement. I wish to execute it now."

A low chuckle rumbled through the phone, a sound that seemed to vibrate right through my bones. "'Execute'? An interesting choice of words. What is it you want, Eleanora Carlisle?"

"I need an ally," I said. "An ally who can make the Slate Pack regret its existence. In return, you will have the friendship of the Carlisle Pack. And me."

At that moment, a familiar mental pressure brushed against my mind. Jaxon, trying the mind-link again. I didn't block him. I let the connection hang, a silent, one-way channel.

His voice, dripping with false concern, echoed in my head. "Nora, baby, don't be angry. Open the door, please? I had the kitchen make your favorite dessert."

I ignored it, my focus entirely on the man on the phone.

"Are you busy?" Alistair asked, his perception unnervingly sharp.

"Just cleaning out some trash," I replied calmly.

Through the open link, I heard Jaxon's attention shift. Kiley's soft, cloying voice joined his. "Jax, is Nora still not opening the door? Do you think she might... do something?"

Then, the little boy's voice, high and demanding. "Daddy, I want Daddy!"

Daddy.

Jaxon's mental voice immediately softened, full of doting affection. "Finn, be good. Daddy will be right there."

My hand tightened on the phone, my knuckles turning white.

"Eleanora," Alistair's voice cut through my haze, sharp and concerned. "Are you alright? Your breathing has changed."

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing the white-hot rage back down. This was my war. I would not lose control.

"I'm fine, Mr. Vanderbilt." I sat up straighter. "About our alliance..."

"Alistair," he corrected me. "Tomorrow, my team will be in touch. The Slate Pack is bidding on the Blackwood Creek development project, are they not? Tell Jaxon Slate that the Vanderbilt Group will negotiate only with you."

This was it. My first weapon. "Good."

Just before he hung up, Alistair spoke again, quiet and final. "Eleanora. No one gets to hurt you again."

The call ended. Strength, plain and steady, flooded back into me. I was no longer alone.

Jaxon's link was still there, a pathetic, pleading presence in my mind. Time to give him a response.

I took a shaky breath, manufacturing the perfect tone of a woman shattered by betrayal. "Jaxon," I projected, my mental voice trembling. "I heard... I heard the child call you daddy. I'm your Luna. How could you... how could you have a son with someone else?"

I focused on the son, the affair. Not the contract. Let him think I was just a jealous wife.

The mental link went dead silent with his panic. He hadn't expected me to hear.

A moment later, his frantic thoughts crashed back. "Nora, you misunderstood! It's not like that! Open the door, I'll explain everything!"

I cut the link.

Then, I walked to the door and slid the bolt open.

Jaxon stood there, his face a mess of guilt and desperation.

I looked up at him and gave him a fragile, heartbroken smile.