The Luna I Shouldn’t Want

The forest was quiet. Too quiet. Rhett Hale moved through the shadows with the careful silence of a born predator, his boots sinking into moss dampened by the night air. The border between Shadowfang territory and Moonridge territory stretched before him like a scar—dark, ancient, and dangerous. He had crossed it only once before, and even then, he’d sworn he would never do it again. But tonight wasn’t about promises. Tonight was about survival. A rogue wolf had been spotted near the border, threatening to pull both packs into a war no one was ready for. As Beta of the Shadowfang—second only to his Alpha—Rhett had been sent to investigate. He didn’t expect his life to end here… But he certainly didn’t expect it to change here either. A breeze drifted through the trees, brushing his jaw with a cool whisper. And then it hit him. A scent. Soft. Sweet. Warm like honey. Sharp like wildflowers crushed underfoot. A scent that made his wolf rise so violently inside him that he staggered forward and gripped a tree to steady himself. Mine. The word didn’t come from his mind. It came from his wolf, deep, primal, undeniable. Rhett’s breath caught. “No,” he whispered to himself. “Not here. Not now.” The scent tightened around his lungs like a fist, pulling him forward, deeper into enemy territory. The trees thinned, revealing a narrow stream lit silver by the moon. And then he saw her. A woman knelt at the edge of the water, dipping her fingers into the stream. Her dark hair spilled over her bare shoulders, catching moonlight like woven silk. Her skin glowed with a warmth he felt even from a distance. He froze. Not because she was beautiful—though she was, unbearably so. But because he knew her. Lyra Vale. Daughter of the Moonridge Alpha. Enemy to his bloodline. The most protected wolf in the region. And his mate. Rhett’s heart slammed painfully against his ribs. His wolf clawed at him from the inside, desperate to get closer. To touch her. To claim her. To confirm what his entire being already knew. He didn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Not until she lifted her head slightly, as if sensing him. Her eyes opened, reflecting moonlight—silver, sharp, alert. Her nostrils flared softly as she caught his scent, and a tremor passed across her lips. She felt it. Dear gods—she felt it too. Rhett stepped back, but a branch cracked under his boot. Lyra spun around instantly, eyes narrowing, body tensing like a drawn bow. “Who’s there?” she demanded, rising smoothly to her feet. Her voice was music sharpened into a blade. Rhett stepped into the moonlight. Her breath hitched. Only for a moment. But he caught it. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Neither should you,” he replied quietly. Her gaze swept over him, slow and searching. She wasn’t afraid. She was… curious. Drawn. Fighting it—poorly. Her eyes flicked to his chest, then away. He felt it like a touch. “What do you want, Shadowfang?” she asked, but the edge of hostility in her voice was weak. Unconvincing. Rhett swallowed hard, fighting the pull inside him. “I didn’t come for you,” he said truthfully. “But the moment I caught your scent…” He stopped. The words burned. Lyra’s chest rose slowly. “You felt it.” Not a question. A statement. Rhett nodded once. Her lips parted, the slightest tremble visible. She looked away, fingers curling at her sides. “I tried to ignore it.” “So did I.” The air between them thickened, charged like a gathering storm. Her heart was beating too fast—he could hear it. He knew she could hear his. Lyra took one step backward… Then stopped. Because her body wouldn’t let her go any farther from him. Rhett stepped forward once—slowly, controlled. Her breath shivered. “Don’t come closer,” she whispered. “I have to.” His voice was low, soft, rough with restraint. Their eyes locked, and something ancient pulsed between them. Rhett reached out, not to touch her, but close enough that she could feel the warmth of his hand. Her breath faltered. “Lyra,” he murmured, tasting her name like it was forbidden fruit. “Tell me you don’t feel it. Tell me, and I’ll turn around. I’ll walk away.” Her voice shook. “I… I can’t.” With those three words, everything shattered. Rhett closed the space between them, stopping just inches away. Her scent wrapped around him, pulling him under like a tide. His hand hovered near her jaw, not touching but close enough to feel the heat of her skin. Her eyes fluttered shut for half a second. “Rhett,” she whispered, breath trembling. “This can’t happen.” His thumb brushed her lower lip—barely, just a ghost of a touch. She inhaled sharply. “It already is.” Lyra’s knees weakened. He caught her by the waist—not possessive, not forceful, just steady, grounding her. Her fingers gripped his forearm as if seeking balance, warmth, something real. They stood locked in a moment too dangerous to break. “You’re my enemy,” she breathed. “You’re my mate,” he answered softly. Her eyes glistened with fear and desire tangled together. A war she couldn’t win. “We can’t,” she whispered again, but her body leaned toward him involuntarily. Rhett lowered his forehead to hers, their breaths mixing, electricity pulsing in the tiny space between their lips. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured. “You won’t,” she whispered back. “But your father will kill me.” Lyra’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening on his arm. “He can’t know.” He nodded. “Then this ends now.” But neither of them moved. The mate bond pulsed, hot and demanding, begging for closeness, touch, surrender. Rhett’s hand slid up her arm, slow and reverent, until he cupped her cheek gently. Lyra gasped softly, leaning into his palm like she had been waiting her whole life for that touch. “Rhett…” she whispered, voice breaking with need. He bent his head, lips brushing hers not yet a kiss, just a promise, a threat, a pull neither could resist. Her breath trembled against his mouth. And then A howl split the air. Not a friendly one. A warning. A summons. Lyra jerked back, panic flashing in her eyes. “My patrol is close,” she whispered. “If they find you” Rhett backed into the shadows, chest heaving, heart pounding. “I’ll be back.” “You can’t,” she said desperately. He held her gaze. A promise burned between them. “I will.” And then he vanished into the trees, her scent still burning on his skin. Lyra stood frozen, fingers pressed to her lips, her heart racing wildly. She knew. He knew. Their lives had just changed. Forever. And nothing not their packs, not their laws, not her father could stop what the moon had already chosen.