In Love With His Brother’s Mate

The Ghost At My Door

The morning sun filtered through the narrow windows of the longhouse, brushing the wooden floorboards with soft gold. Thalia moved quietly, her fingers brushing over the woven furs and polished tables, adjusting the small stack of herbs she had prepared for the New Moon ritual.

Everything in her life now had rhythm. She had a place. A purpose. A family. A name. Luna-in-waiting. Wife to the Alpha’s eldest son. Mother to a small, warm-bodied boy who depended on her. That should have been enough.

And yet…

A flicker of discomfort stole through her chest. She paused, bending over a bundle of herbs, trying to concentrate. The familiar thrum in her veins, the ghosted memory of another heartbeat that didn’t belong here, pressed insistently at the base of her skull.

She flexed her fingers and instinctively lifted the collar of her tunic. The mark… the one on her throat. Faint, but pulsing beneath the skin, almost like it remembered him.

She swallowed hard, smoothing the fabric down. No. Stop it. He is gone. You are mated. You are Theron’s wife now. This is your life. He is a memory.

But the pulse remained. A whisper at the edge of her consciousness.

“Mama,” a sleepy voice interrupted, and her head snapped up. Her son, cheeks flushed with sleep, toddled into the room, arms stretched toward her, his curls bouncing.

Thalia crouched, scooping him up into her lap. The familiar weight of him against her chest steadied her shaking hands. She kissed the crown of his head, inhaling the clean, innocent scent of him, a mix of milk and earth and sun-warmed skin.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked softly, brushing his hair from his forehead.

He babbled something unintelligible, but his small arms wrapped around her neck, holding on tightly. She smiled, forcing the warmth back into her chest.

Yes. This is enough. This is everything. She could not allow herself to think otherwise.

She rocked him gently and whispered playful nonsense in his ear until he giggled, his tiny hands tugging at her braid. For a moment, she allowed herself to believe the world was small, simple, safe.

Then she heard it.

A howl — low, ragged, carrying the weight of a thousand miles and a thousand battles.

Her heart stuttered. Her wolf stirred before her mind could catch up, the primal recognition of a voice that should have been gone searing through her chest.

It was him.

No. It couldn’t be.

The rest of the pack answered in chorus, a tide of howls rolling through the valley. And still, she felt it — the pull, the thrum at her throat, the ghost-pain of a claim she could not forget.

Theron stepped into the doorway, broad shoulders catching the morning light. “I’m going to see who it is,” he said casually, voice low, but his hand brushed briefly against hers.

She nodded. “I’ll join you outside.”

Her son yawned, burying his face into her neck. She felt the soft press of his lips and forced a smile. “You can sleep in my arms, little moon,” she murmured.

As she moved toward the door, she caught the faintest scent in the wind. Pine, mud, smoke — familiar, but layered with something she hadn’t smelled in years. Her stomach twisted. She recognized the ghost of him before she saw him.

No

Her hands tightened on her son. It can’t be. It isn’t possible.

She stepped outside, the sun cutting across the yard, the pack milling around in celebration of someone’s unexpected return. Faces turned, eyes bright, but Thalia barely noticed.

He was there, standing in the open, the wind tangling his dark hair, the familiar set of his shoulders — still broad, still solid, still commanding. His eyes caught hers, wide and burning with disbelief.

Aeron. Alive. Right here.

The world narrowing until there was only the three of them: her, her son, and the man she thought she had lost forever.

Her pulse accelerated, her wolf stirring violently, claws scraping at the edges of her control. She tightened her hold on the boy, bending slightly as if to shield him, to shield herself.

Her throat burned as she was introduced to him. Shame flared hot and sharp. She was mated now. His brother’s wife. She had chosen this life, built it carefully.

And yet… and yet there he was. The ghost she could not forget, the fire she had never truly extinguished, standing in the flesh, staring at her as though the world had gone wrong.

She tried to pull her thoughts away, to ground herself in anything but him. Yet every instinct — human and wolf alike — screamed in protest.

For the first time since her son was born, she felt the past and the present collide in her chest with dangerous intensity.

Her lips parted, but no words came.

And in the light of the morning, with the pack gathering around, she realized she had no idea how she would survive this.

The sight of him—the way his eyes never left hers, the raw disbelief etched into every line of his face—tore through her chest. Her son stirred, stretching against her, oblivious to the storm she tried desperately to cage.

And then, suddenly, he was being pulled away.

Aeron’s mother, arms firm and insistent, looped around him, her grip steady but unyielding. He struggled just enough for her to hear his low, guttural protest. His gaze, still locked on Thalia, followed her like a tether, desperate and pleading, as the distance between them grew.

“Stay with me…” her wolf howled silently, but there was nothing she could do.

Theron stepped forward, smoothly, almost too easily, and slipped a hand into hers. The touch was casual, protective, familiar—and it made her skin prickle. She felt herself lean slightly into it, even as her mind screamed.

Her son, sensing the shift in attention, reached out blindly. Theron’s other hand came down, catching the child effortlessly, lifting him into his arms. “A miracle, isn’t it?” he said, voice low, confident. “That he’s back.”

Thalia gave an absent-minded nod, her eyes still tracing Aeron’s retreating form, watching as he was swallowed by the buildings.

She didn’t speak; words would have shattered something she wasn’t ready to name, or maybe something she already feared had shattered beyond repair.

Theron’s thumb traced the back of her hand, and his tone softened, laced with curiosity. “How… do you feel, knowing he’s here?”

Her gaze flicked up, and his stare forced her to swallow hard. She squared her shoulders. “I… I’m sure the pack is happy,” she said, her voice steady, though her insides coiled tight.

She reached for her son, intending to take him from Theron’s arms, but the child whimpered, burying his face into his father’s chest.

Theron’s hand tightened slightly on the boy’s back, and he took a small step back. “He’ll stay with me for now,” he said firmly.

Thalia froze. A flush of frustration and helplessness rose in her chest. She opened her mouth, only for Theron to step closer, one hand reaching toward her face. Her body flinched at the motion, sharp instinct pulling her back.

His eyes narrowed, and the faintest shadow of a reprimand lingered there. “You look pale,” he said softly. “Take a rest from your duties for the morning.”

“I—” she started, the desire to protest burning in her chest. She wanted to busy herself, anything to keep her mind off Aeron.

But he didn’t give her the chance. Without another word, he turned and walked away with her child cradled against his chest, leaving her standing in the sun-drenched yard, heart pounding, pulse screaming.

Her hands trembled violently now, her fingers twisting the fabric of her dress as though she could anchor herself. She raised her gaze to the statue of the goddess at the end of the path, the one she had visited every morning for prayer and reflection, and whispered hoarsely, “Why… why do you test me so?”

The wind carried the faint scent of pine and smoke again, teasing the memory of him, the echo of a life she could no longer claim.

Her wolf whimpered softly in her chest, restless and aching, but she forced her body to move, stepping toward the statue.

The sunlight glinted off the carved stone face, serene and untouchable, and she bowed her head, seeking guidance she wasn’t sure she’d ever truly receive.

All around her, the pack carried on with the morning’s bustle, unaware of the storm raging in the heart of the woman who would soon be their Luna.