TRAGEDY OF THE ALPHA’S LUNA

CHAPTER 3: MY MATE

Mara's POV

"The Ellison bloodline wasn't supposed to survive."

Six words, and they hadn't left my head since the elder said them.

The council chamber smelled like old wood and older secrets. Five elders sat behind a long table, watching me the way people watch something they haven't decided is dangerous yet.

"Sit," the eldest one said. His name was Halric, I'd learned that much on the walk over, along with the fact that nobody dared question him twice.

I sat.

"Tell us about your mother," he said.

"Why?"

"Answer the question."

I bit down on my irritation. "She never talked about her family much. She died when I was twelve."

"Did she ever mention a ritual?" Another elder leaned forward, sharp-eyed. "Something involving your bloodline?"

"No." The word came out clipped. "What ritual?"

The elders exchanged a look: quick, practiced, the kind of look people share when they've already decided how much truth you're allowed to have.

"That's not important right now," Halric said, which told me it was exactly the opposite. "What matters is that Jonah claim you as his Luna. Formally. Before the next full moon."

"No."

The word surprised even me with how fast it came out.

"I never asked for the title," I said. "I only wanted him."

"You misunderstand." Halric's voice hardened. "This isn't about titles anymore. Jonah's wolf grows more unstable by the day. The only force strong enough to anchor him may be the mate bond fully sealed. Without it, we cannot guarantee what he becomes."

The words settled over me like ice water.

"You're saying I'm the only thing keeping him from losing himself completely."

"We're saying," Halric said carefully, "that his family has always known his mate would be more than ceremonial."

I left the chamber with my head spinning and one question burning louder than all the others.

*Did Jonah know this before we ever met?*

I found him in his study, staring at nothing, still pale from blood loss. He looked up when I entered, and whatever he saw on my face made him straighten immediately.

"Mara. What happened?"

"Did you approach me because you needed me?" I asked. "Not because you loved me. Because you needed a cure."

He didn't answer right away.

That silence told me everything his words hadn't.

"Answer me," I said, quieter now, because the alternative was screaming.

"My father told me my mate might be important to my survival." Jonah's voice was low, careful, like each word cost him something. "When I realized it was you, yes. Part of me wondered if you could save me."

"So that's what I was to you." My chest ached like something inside it had cracked. "A cure. Not a person."

"That's not…"

"I don't want to be someone's medicine, Jonah." My voice broke on his name. "I wanted to be loved."

"You are." He crossed the room fast, catching my hands before I could pull them away. "What started as fear became something real, Mara. I swear it. I didn't fall in love with you because I needed to survive. I fell in love with you *despite* needing to survive, because somewhere along the way, none of that mattered anymore. Only you did."

"How do I know that's true?"

"Because if choosing you costs me the throne, I'll choose you anyway." His hands tightened around mine. "I mean that. Every word."

I searched his face for the lie I expected to find.

I didn't find one.

For the first time since the coronation, I believed him completely.

"Then finish it," I said. "Complete the bond. All of it."

Something shifted in his eyes: want, relief, fear all tangled together. "Mara, if the elders are right about the ritual…"

"I don't care what the elders think anymore." I stepped closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him despite everything his body had been through that night. "I choose you. I want to be *yours*, completely. Not because they said we need to. Because I need to."

He kissed me like he'd been holding his breath since the clearing.

The room around us fell away, the council, the warnings, the mark on my wrist that apparently meant more than either of us understood. There was only his mouth against mine, his hands sliding into my hair, the low sound he made against my lips like something in him had finally stopped fighting.

"Are you sure?" he murmured against my skin.

"I've never been more sure of anything."

He guided me back toward the bed, and every worry I'd carried into that room dissolved beneath the weight of his hands, his mouth trailing down my throat, his voice murmuring things against my skin that had nothing to do with curses or councils or bloodlines.

When his lips found the curve of my neck, I felt him hesitate, one final question, unspoken.

I turned my head, baring my throat to him completely.

"Do it."

His teeth sank into my skin.

Pain and pleasure collided, sharp and electric, and then something inside me *woke up*.

My wolf surged forward with a strength I'd never felt before, ancient and vast, like a door long sealed had finally been kicked open. The candles around the room guttered violently, then died all at once, plunging us into darkness lit only by the moonlight through the window.

The whole room shook.

Jonah pulled back, breathing hard, staring at me like I'd become someone else entirely.

Then I heard it.

A voice, inside my mind, that wasn't mine and wasn't his.

*"Finally."*

I gasped and pulled away from him, pressing a hand to my temple.

"Mara?" Jonah caught my shoulders. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Someone spoke to me." My voice shook. "Through the bond. It wasn't you."

All the color drained from his face.

"Who was it?" I demanded. "Jonah, who else can reach me through our bond?"

He didn't want to answer. I could see the refusal forming behind his eyes, the same instinct to protect me from something he thought I couldn't handle.

"Tell me."

His gaze drifted toward the window, toward the darkness beyond it, like he expected something to be standing there.

"My grandfather," he said finally.

I stared at him. "Your grandfather has been dead for over twenty years."

"I know."

The certainty in his voice was worse than if he'd sounded uncertain. Like this wasn't a new fear. Like some part of him had been waiting for this exact moment since before we ever met.

He grabbed my shoulders, his grip almost desperate.

"Mara, listen to me." His eyes locked onto mine, urgent, terrified. "If you hear that voice again, don't answer it. No matter what it says. Don't respond."

I opened my mouth to ask why.

Then the voice returned, curling through my mind like it had never left.

*"He already answered me."*