Unspoken Pain Of The Luna

CHAPTER 4

"Happy Third Mating Anniversary!"

I send the mind-link message while arranging white roses in a crystal vase – his mother's favorite, though she's never acknowledged me as her son's mate. The silence from Tyler's end is expected, familiar as an old scar.

"Please come home right after work today." I adjust a rose that's drooping. "I'm preparing a special surprise to celebrate the occasion. You'll love it. I promise."

A flicker of interest travels through our bond, but no response comes. Three years, and I've learned to read these tiny signals like a meteorologist reads weather patterns. Interest doesn't mean warmth. Doesn't mean love. Just... curiosity.

Rayne stirs in my mind. 'He might speak to us today.'

'Don't,' I warned her. 'Don't hope.'

Most wolf females would crumble under such coldness from their mates. But then, most females don't con their mates out of half a million dollars with a fake pregnancy. The fact that I didn't know if I was actually pregnant at the time doesn't matter. A lie is a lie, even when told to save a brother's life.

I smooth down my emerald green dress – bought with his money, like everything else I own. The irony doesn't escape me. Tyler ensures I want for nothing material while giving me nothing of himself.

"You look beautiful," Maria, our housekeeper, says from the doorway. She's been here longer than I have, probably knows Tyler better than I do.

"Thank you." I adjusted a place setting for the hundredth time. "Do you think he'll stay? For dinner?"

Her hesitation is enough to answer enough. "The food smells wonderful, señora."

I've prepared all his favorites – though I learned his preferences from the staff, not from him. Grilled salmon with herbs. Roasted vegetables. Fresh bread from the local bakery he pretends not to favor.

"Remember when I first came here?" I ask Maria as I light the candles. "I couldn't even boil water."

She laughs softly. "You burned the soup!"

"And Tyler hired a chef the next day." I try to keep the bitterness from my voice. "Heaven forbid his fake mate poison him."

"Señora..."

"It's fine." I wave off her concern. "Really. Tonight will change everything."

I think back to that day in his office, three years ago. The way his face had turned to marble when I'd confessed my pregnancy. How he'd written the check without a word, his only stipulation being that I mate him properly – no running away this time.

The money had saved Ethan. My brother was safe at college now, far from Patrick's influence. That was worth any price.

But the price had been steep.

Three years of silent dinners, when Tyler bothered to come home at all. Three years of mechanical touches, brief couplings that left me aching for more than just physical release. Three years of watching other mated pairs, seeing what I could have had if I hadn't lied.

"Would you like me to stay?" Maria asks, knowing how these anniversaries usually go.

I shake my head. "No, thank you. Go home to your family."

Once she's gone, I do a final check of everything. The table settings are perfect. Candles lit. Wine breathing – an expensive Malbec, his favorite. My dress hugs my curves in a way that used to make his eyes darken with desire, before the lies came between us.

Rayne paces in my mind. 'Maybe tonight will be different.'

'It will be,' I assure her. 'Just not how you think.'

I hear his car in the driveway. My heart picks up speed – three years, and still my body responds to his proximity like a flower turning toward the sun.

The front door opens and closes. His scent hits me first – forest after rain, spice, power. My n*****s tighten beneath silk, my thighs pressing together of their own accord.

"Happy Anniversary," I say, holding out a glass of wine.

His lip curls as he takes it. "What is it you want now?"

Three years ago, that tone would have made me flinch. Now I just smile, which seems to unsettle him more than tears ever did.

"Can't a mate want to celebrate?"

He drains his glass in one long swallow, reaches for the bottle. Fills both our glasses again without meeting my eyes.

"Our last together," I say quietly. "That's what I want to celebrate."

That gets his attention. His head snaps up, eyes finally meeting mine. "Last? You want your own house now? This mansion not good enough?"

I shake my head, finishing my wine. The alcohol burns, lending me courage.

He moves faster than I expect, grabbing my wrist and pulling me against his chest. The friction of his expensive suit against my dress sends shivers down my spine. When was the last time he touched me like this? When was the last time we were skin to skin?

His mouth crashes down on mine, tasting of wine and frustration. Rayne howls in triumph as our tongues meet, dance, duel. His hands tangle in my hair, tugging just hard enough to make me gasp.

'More,' Rayne begs. 'Please, more.'

But I know better. This isn't love. This is possession, dominance, maybe even hate. Three years of resentment poured into a kiss that tastes more like goodbye than hello.

The taste of wine lingered between us as I broke away from the kiss, my lips curved into a bittersweet smile. The familiar path to our bedroom stretched before me – stairs I'd climbed countless times over the past three years, each step weighted with hope that had slowly turned to resignation.

Tyler followed close behind, his presence both comforting and suffocating. Our arrangement was a cruel dance – his wolf demanding closeness while his heart pushed me away. Every few nights, he'd share my bed, a reluctant compromise to appease the primal bond between us.

"What's your game here?" His voice carried that familiar edge of frustration. "You always want this on 'special occasions,' so here I am!"

I kept climbing, refusing to look back. One glimpse of his face – that mixture of desire and disdain I knew too well – would send Rayne, my wolf, into her usual frenzy to please our mate. Even now, she whined inside me, desperate for his approval.

"You're right," I said softly, my voice steadier than I felt. "I've always wanted it, haven't I? And I'm truly sorry, Tyler. These years couldn't have been easy for you." I paused at the top of the stairs, my hand gripping the banister. "You were right about so many things. About me wanting my own home, about everything. But here's what you're wrong about – after tonight, there won't be any more 'special occasions' to endure."

Before I could take another step, Tyler's hand caught my arm, spinning me around. His mouth crashed onto mine with familiar urgency, his free hand gripping my ass as he pulled our bodies together. It was always like this between us – fast, hard, desperate to get it over with. What had started as his preference had become our shared ritual of avoidance.

For one moment – just one – I let myself melt into him. I savored his wine-sweetened kisses, pretending the heat between us was passion rather than just alcohol and biology. My fingers found their way into his thick, eternally overgrown hair, and my heart ached with the possibility of what could have been.

We tumbled onto the bed, his weight pressing me into the mattress. Despite being an omega's daughter, my body was strong, resilient – a perfect match for his Alpha physique, even if he'd never acknowledge it. His hands found their way under my blouse, palming my breast over my bra as our kisses grew more desperate.

I hadn't consciously spread my legs, but awareness snapped back when I felt his fingers reaching for my panties beneath my skirt. I pressed against his chest, creating space between us. Tyler sat up, shrugging off his suit jacket before reaching for the bedside drawer – and the familiar foil packet within.

"Stop," I whispered, catching his hand. "Don't."

Desire had darkened his eyes, making his voice rough. "What is it now, Rachel?"

"I promised you a surprise." My heart thundered in my chest. "Don't you want it?"

He exhaled sharply. "Right now? No. I think you know exactly what I want."

For a heartbeat, I wavered. One more time – would it really matter? But the familiar ache in my chest answered for me. Every touch laced with resentment had slowly poisoned something inside me. I was tired of dying by degrees.

I wanted to live.

"I, Rachel Flores, reject you, Tyler Wright, as my fated mate."

The ancient words carried power, and suddenly Rayne fell silent in my mind. The absence of her constant yearning was startling – but I knew she would wake, and when she did, she would be free of this bond that had brought us both so much pain.

"What?" Tyler's face drained of color, his eyes widening as his wolf registered the sudden silence where our bond had been.

"Surprise!" The word came out brittle as I slipped from beneath him, straightening my clothes with trembling hands. "I'm sorry I kept you bound to me for so long, Tyler. Three years – it was wrong of me. I can't give you back that time, but I can give you your freedom now. Just complete the rejection on your end, and you'll never have to see me again." My voice softened. "I hope you find happiness. I truly mean that."

"You're rejecting me?" Disbelief colored his words. "What kind of game are you playing?"

"This isn't a game, Tyler. This is goodbye."

I left him there, still frozen on the bed, as I retrieved my packed suitcase. Everything he'd ever given me – the designer clothes, the shoes, the jewelry – remained behind where it belonged. I took only what I'd brought into our union. They called me a gold-digger, but I wouldn't prove them right.

The house was empty – I'd made sure to dismiss the staff earlier – and Tyler didn't follow as I walked out the door. In the privacy of the car, I closed my eyes, focusing on simply breathing as we drove toward Bella's apartment.

She was waiting in the doorway, her face etched with concern. I made it across the threshold and into her arms before the tears finally came. She held me as I shattered, rocking me gently as everything I'd held back came pouring out.

"I'm so sorry, Rachel," she whispered, her own voice thick with tears. "I can't believe she's pregnant.”