The Ugly Luna

CHAPTER 3

ADRIAN

The tiara is still warm from my hands when I say it. "There. Now everyone else can see what I already know."

She looks up at me, moonstones scattered across her collarbone, and for a second, the noise of the courtyard falls away entirely.

It's her scent that does it—wraps around me, settles into my chest. I've spent thirty-four years waiting for this exact sensation, and I still wasn't ready for it. Hell, I was starting to think it would never happen after the past six months.

My mind drifts back to the meeting where the Elders cornered me into an ultimatum.

My face is stoic as I stare at the six Elders sitting around the long table before me, in robes the color of dead leaves.

"Alpha Adrian." Elder Kessler steeples his fingers. He always does that before saying something he knows I won't like. "You are nearing thirty-five. Unmated. An Alpha without a Luna is not complete. A pack cannot truly thrive without the balance of both. You need your second half to rule properly."

"I've ruled fine on my own," I say flatly.

"You've survived on your own," Kessler corrects. "There's a difference. And since the Moon Goddess doesn't appear to be forthcoming with your fated mate, it is time to consider other options."

A faint murmur passes through the council.

"You shall find a Luna elsewhere."

There it is. The real reason for this meeting.

"The Moon Wolf Pack has offered their daughter. Clara Goldman. Alpha Finn's heir." Elder Marlow says, sliding a folded parchment across the table.

I don't touch the parchment.

I've heard of Clara before. Beautiful, by every account. Sharp-tongued. Used to being fawned over. The kind of woman who mistakes cruelty for wit and calls it confidence. None of it moves me one way or the other.

"It's for the betterment of the pack, Alpha," Elder Marlow adds, gently pushing the parchment closer until it rests directly in front of me.

My gaze lingers on it. The neatly written agreement. The signatures waiting to be filled.

The future everyone in this room seems to have already decided for me.

They're not wrong. That's what makes this so much worse.

A Luna would strengthen the pack. An alliance would secure our borders. The council isn't acting out of malice—they're doing exactly what they're supposed to do.

The good of the pack.

I've spent my entire life putting those things before myself.

"Fine." The word leaves my mouth before I can think better of it.

I met Clara twice before today. Both times, she'd looked at me, assessing what she stood to gain, cataloging the furs and the gold cuffs at my wrists.

She'd laughed too loudly at nothing, touched my arm without invitation, called me "my future Alpha" in a tone that made my skin want to crawl straight off my body.

I've tolerated it. Sacrifice, I tell myself. Necessary. It's the only reason I'm standing here tonight instead of anywhere else.

My mind is already elsewhere when the wind shifts, and a scent finds me. Not sweet. Something with iron underneath it, something alive.

I turned before I understood why, and there she was. Poorly dressed, shoulders curved in, standing at the edge of the crowd like the walls might swallow her if she let them. Dull hair and eyes, but it didn't matter.

She could have been standing there in sackcloth and ash, and I'd have looked at her the same way. Like she was the only thing in that courtyard worth seeing.

It wasn't just her. Her wolf was magnificent. Golden. I knew it the instant our eyes met—that brilliant flare behind her gaze, gold answering gold.

I'd never expected to see one in my lifetime, let alone discover she was my mate.

I look down at her. Just...Perfect.

ELLIE

The journey to Sun Wolf Pack territory takes just under two hours. The compound sits at the edge of a valley, backed up against a ridge of dark hills. We pull through the main gates just past midnight, and even at this hour, the place feels alive—lights burning in windows, a few wolves moving along the outer paths who stop and watch the convoy come through.

Word travels fast in a pack. They already know something happened tonight. I can feel it in the way they look at the car.

I keep my face neutral and my eyes forward.

The main building is a long stone structure that manages to feel both a fortress and home. We take a private elevator up, and the doors open into a quiet hallway. Adrian keys in a code, and the door at the end swings inward.

I step inside.

The room is large. Dark wood floors, high ceilings, a massive stone fireplace already burning low on the far wall.

The furniture is heavy and clean-lined—a deep charcoal sofa, bookshelves with books in them.

The bed sits against the far wall, dressed in black and dark bronze linens, the headboard carved with the sun crest of his pack.

Floor-to-ceiling windows look out over the valley below. The full moon is directly overhead now, and the hills are silver with it.

It's nothing like the cramped, damp room I've slept in for the past ten years.

I stand just at the door and take a breath.

Adrian sets his jacket over the back of a chair. He moves through the space the way he moves through everything—like it already belongs to him, because it does.

He crosses to the fireplace and adds a log, and the flames catch and climb.

"You can use the bathroom first," he says, without making it strange. "There should be everything you need."

I nod and find it through the door on the left. It's all dark stone and warm light, a deep soaking tub and a wide mirror above a double vanity.

Someone has stocked it—soap, towels, a soft robe hanging on the back of the door.

My heart hammers as I stare at the robe. Are we really going to do this? Is that why it's here? So I can shower, change, and prepare myself before we complete the bond?

I run a hand through my hair, trying to force myself to breathe normally, but it does nothing. If anything, my heart only beats faster.

It's not uncommon for mates to complete the bond the first time they meet. That part doesn't surprise me. What scares me is that we don't even know each other.

Who is Adrian when no one is watching? What is he like? He's older. Much older. Does that mean he's experienced?

Oh, my goddess. Of course he is. He has decades on me. There is absolutely no way he hasn't been with someone before—probably many someones.

My stomach twists.

What if he hates being with me? My inexperience disappoints him, he regrets the whole thing, and I end up worse off than I was at home.

I run my hand through my hair again, biting down on my lip as my heartbeat climbs higher.

What if he's rough and it hurts? The thought sends a cold shiver down my spine.

"Breathe." Queen's voice cuts through the spiral, warm but firm.

"Easy for you to say," I snap back, even though I didn't mean for it to come out so sharp. "You don't have to handle this part."

A soft laugh brushes through our connection, and somehow I can feel her smile.

"I might just be your wolf, but I feel what you feel, Ellie. I may not know what Adrian is thinking or what he expects from tonight, but I can make sure you don't send us both into cardiac arrest worrying about it."

I release a shaky breath.

"You're right. I need to calm down." I hesitate. "But what do you think?"

"I think he wants to complete the bond tonight, and I don't think we should be afraid of it." She pauses. "Ellie, we are stronger than we give ourselves credit for."

"This is different, Queen. Handling my shitbag of a family and pack is different from understanding a man I just met."

"I know, but we have handled everything thrown at us. We are strong enough for this, too."

The certainty in her voice settles something inside me. And somehow...I believe her.

"That's my girl," Queen says, warmth filling her voice.

Before I can respond, she retreats back into the quiet corner of my mind.

I look down at the second tin from my mother. The remover. Whatever happens tonight, he should at least see who he actually chose.

I open the tin and dip my fingers inside. The ointment feels warm against my skin as I slowly rub it across my face. In the mirror, I watch the reverse happen.

The dullness lifts. Color comes back into my skin, a warmth that's mine, not manufactured. My hair brightens, the gold coming back up through it, strand by strand, until it catches the light and holds it.

I splash some water onto my face and look up. My features have sharpened back into themselves. I take one last breath, open the door, and walk out.