Not His Luna Anymore: My Mate's Biggest Regret | Read Free Preview
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Chapter 1
SERA
The sharp rap of knuckles against wood echoed through my small apartment, each knock more insistent than the last.
I pressed myself deeper into the corner of my worn sofa, pulling the thin blanket tighter around my trembling shoulders. The fever had gotten worse since morning, waves of heat and cold washing over me in alternating cycles. My wolf whimpered weakly inside my mind, too exhausted to even lift her head.
The knocking stopped. For a moment, I allowed myself to hope they'd left.
Then my phone buzzed on the coffee table. The screen lit up with a single word that made my stomach clench: "Mate."
I stared at the message notification, my vision blurring at the edges. Not from tears—though those threatened too—but from the fever burning through my weakened body.
"The Alpha commands your presence at the pack hospital. Immediately."
My chest constricted as if invisible hands had wrapped around my ribcage and squeezed. Three years. Three years of marriage to Ethan Blackwood, Alpha of the Crescent Moon Pack, and this was the only way he ever contacted me. Cold. Clinical. Transactional.
Another buzz.
A bank notification this time.
Transfer received: Sent.
My hand shook as I scrolled through our message history with mechanical movements. Each entry told the same devastating story:
"Report to the pack hospital." – Transfer sent.
"Miss Whitmore needs you. Come now." – Transfer sent.
"The pack doctor is waiting." – Transfer sent.
On and on it went, a digital ledger of my degradation. Three years of marriage, and the only time Ethan initiated contact was to summon me to the hospital. To donate blood. To donate bone marrow. To donate pieces of myself, one painful extraction at a time.
All for Vivian Whitmore.
His treatment of me had always been cold, always transactional. But this month had been particularly brutal. Four times already, and my body was breaking down under the strain. Even my wolf, usually so resilient, had retreated deep within my consciousness, too weak to surface.
I'd stopped shifting two weeks ago. The transformation required strength I no longer possessed.
Yesterday, desperate to see him, I had waited outside pack headquarters in the rain for over an hour. The autumn storm had soaked through my jacket, chilled me to the bone, but I'd stood there anyway, hoping he might notice me. Hoping he might care.
He'd walked right past me without a glance, his attention focused on the phone pressed to his ear. I'd heard Vivian's name, spoken with a gentleness he'd never used with me.
Today I'd stayed home, too feverish to drag myself to the office where I worked as his assistant. Ethan probably hadn't even noticed my absence.
The pounding resumed at my door, harder now. More aggressive.
"Mrs. Blackwood!" A male voice, rough and impatient. "Open this door. The Alpha sent us to retrieve you."
Retrieve. As if I were a package to be collected.
My phone buzzed again. An unknown number this time. Against my better judgment, I opened the message.
What I saw made my blood run cold despite the fever.
"Even as Luna, you're just a placeholder. A blood bank with a title. Three years, and has the Alpha ever looked at you as anything more? He spent last night at my estate. If I were you, I'd bare my throat to the nearest silver blade. You're the interloper, the homewrecker who trapped him into this farce of a marriage."
Homewrecker.
The word struck like a physical blow. My hands clenched around the phone hard enough to make the screen crack at the edges. I was the legitimate Luna of the Crescent Moon Pack. I'd abandoned my own pack, my family, my friends—everything I'd known—to marry Ethan three years ago. I'd endured whispers and scorn, played the dutiful mate, never complained about the loneliness or the pain.
And now I was being called a homewrecker?
My wolf stirred weakly, a low growl of outrage reverberating through my consciousness before fading back into exhausted silence.
Another message arrived. A photo this time.
Ethan lay sleeping in an enormous bed, his sharp features relaxed in a way I'd never seen. Even unconscious, he was breathtaking—the strong jaw, the dark hair that fell across his forehead, the broad shoulders that had first made my heart skip when I'd met him at the inter-pack summit. He looked peaceful. Content.
Curled against his side, her blonde hair spilled across his chest, was Vivian Whitmore. Her eyes were closed, but the smug curve of her lips betrayed her wakefulness. She'd been awake when someone—probably her—had taken this photo.
They looked like true mates. Like what Ethan and I were supposed to be.
The pounding at the door intensified. "Mrs. Blackwood! Open up, or we break it down. Alpha's orders!"
My phone rang, jarring me from my spiraling thoughts. The screen displayed "Pack House."
I answered automatically, my fever-addled mind not processing quickly enough to decline.
Diana Blackwood's voice cracked through the speaker, sharp and imperious as always. Ethan's mother had never hidden her disdain for the Luna her son had been forced to accept. "Sera. The staff has the evening off. Get to the pack house immediately and prepare dinner. The Alpha will have guests tonight."
Something inside me snapped.
I'd endured so much. The cold indifference from my mate. The scorn from his family. The endless medical procedures that left me weak and hollow. I'd played the role of the invisible Luna, the convenient blood source, the wife who existed only when needed.
I'd told myself it was enough. That maybe, eventually, Ethan would see me. Really see me.
But that photo—Vivian smugly pressed against the mate who'd never once held me with such tenderness—shattered the last fragile thread of my hope.
"No," I said, my voice hoarse but steady. "I won't."
I ended the call.
The pounding at the door stopped abruptly, replaced by an ominous silence.
With shaking fingers, I found Ethan's contact. My thumb hovered over the keyboard, heart racing despite my fever. Then I typed the words I'd never imagined saying:
"I want a divorce. I'm rejecting the mate bond."
In werewolf culture, those words held devastating power. Once spoken and accepted, they would sever the connection between mates permanently.
The response came within seconds. Not a text—a call. I could feel his fury through the phone before I even answered.
"What the hell is this, Sera?" Ethan's voice was ice and fury combined, the Alpha command threading through every syllable. It pressed against my weakened wolf, trying to force submission. "Stop playing games. How much do you want? Name your price. Miss Whitmore needs an emergency procedure. The pack doctor says she requires a partial lung transplant, and you're the only compatible—"
"I said I want a divorce." I cut him off, fighting against the Alpha command with the last reserves of my strength. My voice shook, but my resolve held firm. "Meet me at the Pack Council Hall in one hour to make it official. Otherwise, Vivian can find another donor."
I ended the call before he could respond, before his Alpha voice could break through my defenses.
A moment later, another bank notification lit up my screen.
Transfer received.
I stared at the number, then began to laugh. The sound came out broken and slightly hysterical. Tears streamed down my fevered cheeks, but I couldn't stop laughing.
One million dollars. The price he'd placed on my lung. On my life.
The door to my apartment exploded inward with a crash of splintering wood. Three large enforcers from Ethan's personal guard stormed inside, their eyes glowing with their wolves' presence.
The lead enforcer, Marcus, looked almost apologetic as he approached me. "Luna, I'm sorry. But the Alpha gave explicit orders. You're coming with us to the hospital. By force if necessary."
My laughter died. I looked up at the three massive wolves blocking my only exit, felt my own weakened wolf cowering inside me, and made a decision.
"Tell your Alpha," I said softly, my voice carrying a weight it had never held before, "that if he wants my lung, he'll have to take it from my corpse. Because I'd rather die than give Vivian Whitmore another piece of myself."
Marcus's expression shifted to alarm. "Luna, please—"
Something stirred deep within me—something older than my wolf, older than the mate bond, older than the fever burning through my veins. My eyes flashed with a pale light, and when I spoke again, my voice carried an authority I didn't understand.
"I will not be moved."
The three enforcers froze, shock rippling across their features. Their wolves whimpered, pressing them toward submission even though I held no official rank beyond Luna.
In that moment of hesitation, my phone buzzed one final time.
A message from Ethan: "You'll regret this."
I smiled, cold and brittle. "The only thing I regret is believing you could ever love me."
Then my fever spiked dangerously high, and the world tilted sideways. The last thing I heard before darkness claim.
ed me was Marcus shouting for a doctor, his voice sharp with panic.
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
SERA
I woke to the smell of hospital bleach and antiseptic, the beeping of medical equipment somewhere in the room. My eyelids felt too heavy to open, my body disconnected and strange. For a moment, I couldn't remember where I was or why everything hurt.
Then it all came rushing back.
My eyes snapped open. I was in a hospital room—but not the pack hospital. The equipment was too advanced, the room too luxurious, the bed actually comfortable instead of the flat surface I was used to. This had to be a private facility. Probably one of the exclusive clinics that catered to high-ranking pack members.
"You're awake. Thank the Moon."
I turned my head slowly, fighting through the lingering fog of whatever medication they'd given me. A woman sat in the chair beside my bed—tall, elegant, with silver-streaked dark hair pulled back in a severe bun. She wore a tailored suit that screamed authority, and her eyes, pale green like my own, held a mixture of relief and fury.
"Aunt Celeste?" My voice came out as a raspy whisper.
My father's sister leaned forward, her expression softening slightly as she took my hand. "When that enforcer called me, terrified that his Alpha's mate had collapsed, I thought something had finally gone too far." Her voice was clipped, controlled, but I heard the anger beneath. "I got here as fast as I could."
Shame burned through me, hotter than my fever. "I'm sorry. I didn't want you to—"
"To know you've been killing yourself for a man who doesn't deserve you?" She stood abruptly, pacing to the window. "Sera, when you told me you'd married into Crescent Moon, I thought you were making a strategic alliance. I never imagined—" She cut herself off, jaw clenching.
"I thought the mate bond was real," I whispered. "I thought maybe if I just tried hard enough, he'd eventually—"
"Love you?" Celeste turned back, her expression a mixture of pity and rage. "Oh, child. Some men aren't capable of seeing what's right in front of them."
A knock at the door interrupted us. A nurse entered, followed by a doctor—and behind them, filling the doorway with his presence, was Ethan.
He looked like he hadn't slept. His usually immaculate suit was rumpled, his dark hair disheveled as if he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. But his eyes—those ice-blue eyes that had first captivated me—were hard and cold as he took in the scene.
His gaze locked on Celeste, and I saw suspicion flicker across his face. "I wasn't aware Sera had family. She never mentioned—"
"There's a lot my niece hasn't told you, apparently," Celeste interrupted smoothly, moving to stand beside my bed in a clear protective gesture. "Just as there's a lot you haven't told her."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. I looked between them, confused.
"I'd like to speak with my wife," Ethan said, his voice carefully neutral. "Alone."
"She's not your wife anymore." Celeste's smile was cold. "Or hadn't you noticed the severed bond?"
Something flickered in Ethan's expression—pain, maybe, or regret. But it was gone too quickly for me to be sure. "Sera, we need to talk. This divorce—it's not that simple. There are complications you don't understand."
"Complications?" I struggled to sit up despite my body's protests. "You mean Vivian? Your precious Vivian, who needs my lung now?"
"You don't understand the full situation—"
"Then explain it to me!" My voice cracked. "Explain why the only time you've touched me in three years was to drag me to a hospital bed. Explain why you send money instead of speaking to me. Explain why I had to see a photo of you sleeping with her to finally understand that I never mattered to you at all!"
Ethan's jaw clenched. "It's not like that."
"Then what is it like?" Tears burned my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. "Tell me, Ethan. Make me understand why I gave you everything and got nothing in return."
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then: "There are things about my family, about the Blackwood line, that you don't know. Things I can't explain without—" He glanced at Celeste, clearly unwilling to continue in front of her.
"Without revealing your secrets?" Celeste's voice was sharp. "How interesting. Because Sera has secrets too. Don't you, dear?"
I looked at my aunt, unsure what she wanted me to say. We'd agreed years ago to keep certain things hidden, especially after what happened to my family.
"Sera." Ethan stepped closer to the bed, and for the first time, I saw something like desperation in his face. "Please. Just give me a chance to explain. Come back to the pack house, and we can discuss this properly. There's so much you don't know about why I—"
"No." The word came out firm, final. "I'm not going back."
"You can't just leave. You're the Luna of Crescent Moon. You have responsibilities—"
"I have no responsibilities to a pack that's only ever seen me as a blood bank!" The machines monitoring my vitals began beeping frantically as my heart rate spiked. "I tried, Ethan. For three years, I tried to be what you needed. I tried to earn even a scrap of affection from you. But I'm done. I'm done bleeding myself dry for a man who loves someone else."
"If you leave, Vivian will die." His voice was low, dangerous. "Is that what you want? Her death on your conscience?"
Something inside me snapped at those words. That power I'd felt before, when Marcus and his enforcers had tried to take me—it surged up again, stronger this time despite my weakness.
"I don't owe Vivian Whitmore my life," I said, and my voice carried an authority that made everyone in the room flinch. "I don't owe her my blood, my bone marrow, my organs, or my soul. And I don't owe you anything either."
The lights in the room flickered. The machines sparked.
Ethan stared at me, shock written across his face. "What are you—"
"We're leaving," Celeste announced, helping me stand. She wrapped a hospital blanket around my shoulders as I clutched it gratefully. "Now, Sera."
"She's too weak to move," Ethan protested, but his voice held uncertainty.
"She'll be fine once she's away from you." Celeste guided me toward the door, and I felt strength returning to my limbs with each step that took me farther from Ethan.
"Sera, wait—" He reached for my arm, but Celeste stepped between us.
"Touch her, and you'll regret it," my aunt said softly, dangerously. "I may not know all the reasons why you married my niece, Alpha Blackwood, but I know exploitation when I see it. And I know men who use women until there's nothing left."
"You don't understand the situation—"
"I understand enough." Celeste's eyes flashed golden. "I understand that my niece came to your pack healthy and strong, and now she can barely stand. I understand that you've drained her for three years while keeping your mistress comfortable. And I understand that if you try to stop us from leaving, you'll discover exactly why you should never cross someone from—" She caught herself, glancing at me.
From my family. The words hung unspoken between us.
Ethan's eyes narrowed. "Who are you, really? What pack—"
"That's none of your concern anymore," I interrupted, finding my voice. "I'm formally rejecting you, Ethan Blackwood. I reject the mate bond, such as it was. I reject my position as Luna of Crescent Moon. I reject any and all ties between us." My voice grew stronger with each word, that strange power humming through me like electricity. "I, Sera, sever this bond completely. Do you accept?"
His face paled. "Sera, don't be rash. If you do this while you're this weak—"
"Do. You. Accept?" I demanded.
For a long moment, he just stared at me. I could see the calculations running behind his eyes—his pack's needs, Vivian's condition, whatever secrets he was keeping.
Finally, he spoke, each word seeming to cost him: "I accept."
The effect was immediate and violent. I gasped as phantom chains around my heart shattered. Pain lanced through my chest, but beneath it, I felt something I hadn't experienced in three years: freedom.
Ethan staggered, gripping the doorframe for support. Blood dripped from his nose—a sign of a severed bond's toll.
"We're done here," Celeste said, supporting me as I swayed. "Come, Sera. We have much to discuss."
As we walked down the hallway, I felt my consciousness starting to fade again. But before the darkness claimed me, I heard my aunt whisper: "Sleep, little wolf. When you wake, we'll figure out what comes next. But first, you need to heal—truly heal, away from all of this."
My last thought before unconsciousness took me was that I should feel guilty about the blood streaming from Ethan's nose, about Vivian's declining health, about everything I was leaving behind.
I didn't feel guilty at all.
I felt free.
Chapter 3
Chapter 3
SERA
I woke to sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows, the kind of natural light I hadn't seen in years. For a disoriented moment, I thought I was still dreaming—the bed was too soft, the sheets too fine, the air too clean and free of the pack house's oppressive energy.
Then memory returned in fragments: the hospital, Aunt Celeste, Ethan's blood-streaked face as our bond shattered.
I sat up slowly, testing my body's limits. The fever was gone. The bone-deep exhaustion that had become my constant companion had faded to a manageable weariness. My wolf stirred properly for the first time in weeks, stretching within my consciousness like she'd been sleeping rather than dying.
"How do you feel?" Celeste's voice came from the doorway. She held a tray with tea and what looked like actual food—not the protein shakes and supplements that had been my diet for months.
"Better." I accepted the tray, my hands steady as I lifted the teacup. "Where are we?"
"My penthouse. Downtown." She settled into the chair beside the bed, watching me with those assessing green eyes. "You've been sleeping for two days. Your body needed the rest."
Two days. I'd lost two entire days, and somehow I felt more rested than I had in three years.
I sipped the tea—some herbal blend that tasted of mint and something earthier. "How did you get me out of that hospital? Ethan wouldn't have just let me leave."
"I have connections." Celeste's smile was tight. "And I reminded certain people that keeping a Luna against her will, especially one who'd formally rejected her mate bond, would raise uncomfortable questions. The Pack Council doesn't like uncomfortable questions."
Pack Council. The governing body that oversaw disputes between packs, enforced werewolf law, and maintained the fragile peace between territories. They were notoriously bureaucratic and obsessed with tradition.
"Thank you," I said quietly. "For coming. For helping me. I know we haven't spoken much since I married Ethan—"
"You isolated yourself." There was no judgment in her voice, just fact. "You stopped answering my calls, stopped visiting. I assumed you were happy, building your new life." She paused. "I should have checked. I should have insisted."
"I was ashamed." The admission hurt. "You warned me about joining a pack outside our bloodline. You said the Blackwoods had secrets, that I should wait before committing to anything permanent. But I thought—" My voice cracked. "I thought the mate bond meant something. I felt it when I met him, Aunt Celeste. That pull, that certainty. It was real."
"The bond was real," she agreed. "But bonds can be manipulated. Forced. Engineered through magic or circumstance."
I stared at her. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that three years ago, when you met Ethan Blackwood at that inter-pack summit, I did some research." She stood, pacing to the windows. "The Blackwood pack has been dying for generations. Something in their bloodline makes it difficult for them to produce viable offspring. Their numbers have been declining steadily. They needed—"
"Fresh blood," I finished, the pieces clicking into place with sickening clarity. "They needed someone from a strong bloodline. Someone fertile and healthy."
"You were perfect." Celeste's voice was gentle but firm. "Young, from one of the oldest bloodlines in the region, and alone after your parents' deaths. No pack to protect you, no Alpha to question the match. Just me, and I'm not exactly—" She stopped herself.
Not exactly what? I wanted to ask, but she continued before I could.
"When you told me you'd felt the mate bond with Ethan, I assumed it was genuine. It might have been, at least partially. But after seeing what he's done to you, how he's used you—" Her hands clenched. "I suspect there was more at work than fate."
The tea turned bitter in my mouth. "So everything was a lie? The bond, the marriage, all of it?"
"I don't know for certain. But I intend to find out." She turned back to face me. "Which brings me to the problematic part of your current situation."
My stomach dropped. "What problematic part?"
Celeste pulled out her phone, scrolling through what looked like legal documents. "After you lost consciousness, I contacted the Pack Council formally. I informed them that you were rejecting your mate bond with Alpha Blackwood and requesting immediate dissolution of your marriage."
"And?"
"And they reminded me of Section Seven, Clause Twelve of werewolf matrimonial law." She looked up, her expression grim. "For any Alpha-Luna pairing, there's a mandatory dissolution period before the bond can be permanently severed."
The room felt like it was tilting. "How long?"
"One month."
"One month," I repeated numbly. "I have to wait a month before I'm free?"
"It's worse than that." Celeste handed me her phone. "Read the requirements."
I scanned the document, my horror growing with each line:
*Both parties must reside in the same dwelling for the duration of the dissolution period.*
*Both parties must attend all mandatory pack functions together.*
*Both parties must present a united front to pack members and outsiders.*
*Failure to comply with these requirements will result in automatic reinstatement of the mate bond, permanently and irrevocably.*
The phone slipped from my fingers. "No. No, I can't go back there. I can't—"
"Sera." Celeste gripped my shoulders, forcing me to meet her eyes. "Listen to me. I've already negotiated terms with the Pack Council. You'll return to the pack house, but you'll occupy the East Wing—completely separate from Ethan's quarters. I've secured binding agreements: no medical procedures, no blood donations, no physical contact unless absolutely necessary for appearances."
"He agreed to this?" I couldn't imagine Ethan accepting such restrictions, not with Vivian's condition so precarious.
"He didn't have a choice. The Council made it clear that if he opposed these terms, they'd investigate the circumstances of your marriage more thoroughly. Apparently, there are questions about how many times you've donated blood in such a short period. Questions about whether proper medical protocols were followed."
Hope flickered weakly in my chest. "They're investigating?"
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