The Luna Arrangement

6.

June

Ronan doesn’t just walk fast. He walks like the world has learned to keep up with him.

I match his stride anyway, heels clicking softly against the stone floor as we move down the corridor toward the council chamber. Each step echoes—measured, deliberate. I keep my shoulders back and my chin level, even though my heart is doing something frantic and deeply unhelpful inside my chest.

The dress moves when I do.

It’s dark green—deep, rich, somewhere between emerald and forest, the kind of color that looks almost black in low light but catches green when it shifts. Sleeveless with a fitted bodice and a neckline that’s confident without being desperate. The skirt falls long and fluid, slit high enough to show leg when I walk.

The dress makes me look elegant and strong.

We look hot, Mira murmurs, pleased. I approve. I don’t answer her, but I don’t disagree.

Ronan’s hand settles at my lower back as we reach the stairs. Not possessive. Not gentle. Just there. A signal of public unity. The warmth of his palm bleeds through the fabric, grounding me more than I expect.

“Breathe,” he murmurs quietly. “You’re going to do just fine.”

I exhale slowly as we make our way to the meeting, heels steady, posture intentional. Wolves pause as we pass. Conversations dip. Heads turn. I don’t look at them.

I don’t need to. I can feel it—the curiosity, the sudden awareness that something has shifted.

By the time we reach the council doors, the faint tug of the bond returns. Persistent and irritating. I suck in a breath. The reminder sharpens my spine instead of weakening it.

Ronan notices it immediately.

His thumb presses once, firm, at my back. “Ignore it,” he says under his breath. “I’ve got you.”

The doors open and the reaction from the six elders is immediate.

Gasps. Murmurs. Chairs shifting. Elders leaning toward one another, eyes flicking sharply between Ronan and me. We weren’t announced and they weren’t prepared.

Good.

Ronan doesn’t slow. He leads me straight to the center of the chamber and stops, solid and immovable at my side.

“This is June,” he says evenly. “My Luna.” The words land heavy.

One elder blinks outright. Another’s brows lift. A third leans toward her neighbor, whispering something sharp and curious.

“My,” an older woman says after a beat, her gaze sweeping over me with frank interest. “That is… unexpected.”

“We were not informed you had chosen a Luna,” another elder adds, not accusatory—just clearly stunned.

Ronan’s tone doesn’t change. “You are now.”

The quiet chatter swells, then settles into a tense hum.

An elder clears his throat and looks between us. “Perhaps,” he says slowly, “you might explain how you came to meet.”

I draw in a breath. It's the moment of truth.

“I came here for a job—” I begin, at the exact same moment Ronan says “She came here looking for work.”

We both stop and turn, looking at each other. For one suspended, absurd heartbeat, the tension breaks. Ronan's mouth curves, just barely, like he hadn’t expected that either.

I feel my lips lift in response before I can stop them.

Oh, Mira hums smugly. This is dangerous.

Heat curls low in my stomach, entirely unhelpful, and I have the fleeting, traitorous thought that standing this close to him should come with a warning label.

Focus, June.

“I was recommended,” I continue, turning back to the elders. “I have experience working with young wolves. In my old pack I helped with education and early training.”

“And you accepted?” one of them asks.

“Yes,” I say simply. “I needed the work.”

“And yet,” another elder says slowly, “you stand here as Luna.”

Ronan doesn’t hesitate.

“I claimed her,” he says, voice calm and carrying easily through the chamber, “because the moment she arrived in my territory, I saw exactly what she was.”

The room stills. Ronan holds everyone's attention now.

“She didn’t posture,” Ronan continues. “She didn’t ask what she would gain. She asked what would be expected of her.” His hand shifts slightly at my back, grounding. “She has experience with pups. She understands the importance of structure, responsibility, and community. She is more concerned with what will help the pack as opposed to what will benefit her.”

My pulse kicks up hard.

“She knows how to hold space without demanding it,” he says. “And she knows how to stand her ground without needing an audience.”

Several elders exchange looks.

“That,” Ronan finishes evenly, “is what Ashwood Falls needs in a Luna.”

I swallow.

Okay. Wow. That was definitely not in the contract.

Hooooooly— Mira starts.

Not now, I warn her, even as heat flares along my spine.

An elder woman studies me again, expression no longer skeptical—just curious. “And you accepted this role willingly?”

“Yes,” I say clearly. “I did.”

“And you understand what being Luna here entails?”

“I do.”

Their conversations resume, softer now. I barely dare to breathe, praying to the Goddess that nobody objects to this... that they don't object to me.

Then an older woman who’s been quiet until now leans forward, eyes bright with unmistakable amusement.

“Well,” she says lightly, “however unconventional this may be, one can’t deny you make a striking pair.”

My heart stutters.

“And strong bloodlines,” she adds, gaze flicking between us. “You’ll have beautiful pups.”

The other elders begin nodding and voicing their agreement.

I freeze. Ronan freezes. He tenses beside me.

Oh, Mira says softly. That escalated.

Ronan clears his throat and forces a polite smile. “That,” he says evenly, “is not up for discussion tonight.”

The elder smiles, entirely unrepentant. “Of course.”

But the implication lingers.

And as the weight of his words—I claimed her because I saw what she was—settles into my chest, I realize with sudden clarity that this arrangement has already shifted into something far more dangerous than either of us planned.