THE LUNA'S MEN

CHAPTER ONE THE VILLAINESS The last thing I remembered about my old life was thinking that my brother was going to be the death of me. “You had one job,” I said, keeping my eyes on the road as rain hammered against the windshield. “One. You were supposed to take the car to the mechanic, collect your wallet, and bring it straight home, but somehow you managed to leave it there.” “It was an accident.” “You've had six accidents this month.” “That is an exaggeration.” “It isn't. I counted.” He laughed through the phone, completely unbothered by my irritation, and I could practically picture the ridiculous grin on his face. “You worry too much.” “I worry because someone in this family has to possess common sense.” “You love me.” “I tolerate you.” “You'd miss me if I died.” I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could say anything, a pair of headlights appeared through the curtain of rain. The vehicle came around the bend far too quickly, its tires slipping across the soaked road as it crossed into my lane. I slammed my foot against the brake, but the car responded too slowly, the steering wheel jerking violently beneath my hands as I fought to keep control. For one terrifying second, everything seemed to happen at once—the screech of tires, the blinding glare of headlights, my brother shouting something through the phone, and then the deafening impact of metal colliding with metal. The windshield shattered. The seat belt dug into my chest as my body was thrown forward, and something struck the side of my head hard enough to send a burst of white across my vision. I heard my brother screaming my name, but his voice seemed to come from somewhere impossibly far away, growing quieter as the ringing in my ears swallowed everything else. I tried to breathe. I couldn't. The world tilted, the rain became a blur against the broken glass, and my final thought was so absurdly ordinary that even now I wondered why it had been the thing my mind chose to hold on to. I hadn't finished my novel. Then everything went black. --- “Lady Cecilia.” The voice reached me from somewhere beyond the darkness. “Lady Cecilia, please wake up.” Something touched my shoulder, and I frowned before slowly opening my eyes. For several seconds, I simply stared at the ceiling above me. It wasn't the white, sterile ceiling of a hospital room. Delicate golden patterns curved across dark wooden beams, while an enormous crystal chandelier hung overhead, scattering pale morning light across the room. Heavy burgundy curtains framed tall windows, and the bed beneath me was so large that I could have comfortably slept across it without touching either side. I pushed myself upright. A wave of dizziness swept through my head, forcing me to grip the sheets until the room stopped spinning. “Lady Cecilia?” I turned. A young woman stood beside the bed, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. She wore a long cream-colored dress with a dark red sash around her waist, and judging from the way she was looking at me, I was apparently expected to know who she was. “Who are you?” The woman's face went pale. “My lady?” I frowned. “Where am I?” “In your chambers.” “My chambers?” “Yes, my lady.” She sounded so confused that I began to suspect I was the one missing something. I pushed the blankets aside and stood, ignoring the weakness in my legs. The servant immediately moved as though she intended to help me, but I lifted a hand. “Don't.” The word came out colder than I intended. She stopped immediately and lowered her head. Something about that reaction bothered me. I turned away from her and walked toward the enormous mirror standing near the dressing table, intending to see whether the accident had somehow left me with a concussion. I stopped before I reached it. A stranger was staring back at me. She had long black hair falling in soft waves down her back, pale skin, delicate features, and a pair of vivid violet eyes that seemed almost too bright against her complexion. She was beautiful, but there was something intimidating about her expression, something in the natural lift of her chin and the slight curve of her lips that suggested she had never been particularly concerned about whether other people liked her. My hand rose slowly. The stranger raised hers. I touched my cheek. She did the same. My stomach dropped. I knew that face. I had seen it only hours ago on the cover of the novel sitting beside my bed. “No.” The servant took a nervous step forward. “My lady?” I ignored her. “Cecilia Norway.” The name slipped from my lips like a curse. The servant's expression changed immediately. “Yes, my lady.” I stared at the reflection again, hoping that somehow I had misunderstood, that there was another Cecilia Norway somewhere in another world who happened to look exactly like the villainess from the book I had been reading. There wasn't. I knew this woman. Cecilia Norway was the daughter of the Red Moon Alpha, a highborn she-wolf raised in privilege and power, beautiful enough to attract attention wherever she went and arrogant enough to believe that attention was something she deserved. She wasn't the sort of villainess whose actions could be excused by a tragic childhood or some secret misunderstanding. She was genuinely cruel. She manipulated people when it suited her, humiliated those beneath her, used her father's authority whenever she wanted something, and treated the people around her as though they were pieces on a board that existed solely for her convenience. And her story had already begun. That was the part that made my blood run cold. I remembered the novel well enough to know that Cecilia hadn't met her three fated mates for the first time at some grand ceremony. She had already met them. She had already fought with them. She had already tried to manipulate them. She had already made each of them form an opinion of her. Kael Draven, Alpha of the Black Fang Pack, was the first. He was proud, instinctive, territorial, and frighteningly observant. He wasn't the kind of man who rushed into anything simply because his instincts told him to. He watched first, considered what he saw, and once he decided what he wanted, he rarely allowed anything to stand between him and it. Cecilia had tried to control him. It hadn't worked. Lucien Vale, Alpha of the Silver Creek Pack, was another problem entirely. Handsome, charming, flirtatious, and almost impossible to read, he had a way of hiding sharp calculations behind an easy smile. Cecilia had repeatedly mistaken his amusement for submission, only to discover later that Lucien had understood far more than she realized. And then there was Damian Veyre. I swallowed. The Blood Moon Alpha was the one I remembered least comfortably. Damian wasn't merely dangerous in the ordinary sense. There was something fundamentally wrong with the way his mind worked. He could be calm one moment and terrifying the next, and unlike the other two, pain and fear seemed to affect him differently. Cecilia's cruelty had never driven him away in quite the way it should have. If anything, sometimes it seemed to make him more interested. Three fated mates. In this world, highborn she-wolves could have several fated mates. A woman could have two, three, or even more, but being fated to someone did not automatically make that person her true mate. Eventually, she would have to choose the one she wanted most, and only that man would become her true fated mate. The others would be rejected. Cecilia had refused to accept that. She had wanted all three. Not because she loved them, but because she believed she was entitled to them. That had been one of her greatest mistakes. Yet it hadn't been the reason she died. Cecilia died because she became dangerous. She manipulated the three Alphas, interfered with their relationships, targeted the female lead, and eventually played a role in pushing their packs toward war. When her schemes finally became impossible to ignore, the three men who had spent so long tolerating her were no longer willing to protect her. She was killed. And now I was standing in her body. My fingers tightened around the edge of the dressing table. “Wonderful.” The servant looked worried. “Are you feeling unwell, my lady?” I glanced at her. “No.” The answer came automatically, accompanied by a dismissive wave of my hand. The servant immediately lowered her head. I froze. I hadn't meant to do that. Not exactly. But my body had moved before I had consciously decided what to say, and when I looked into the mirror again, my chin was raised in the same arrogant manner Cecilia had been described with throughout the novel. That was when I understood something that frightened me more than the transmigration itself. I wasn't simply wearing Cecilia's face. Her habits were embedded in this body. When I was irritated, my expression naturally hardened. When someone approached me, my shoulders instinctively straightened. When the servant hesitated, my eyes narrowed before I even realized I was doing it. It was like living inside a body that had spent eighteen years practicing the same movements until they no longer required thought. I reached toward the jewelry on the dressing table. My fingers immediately selected a ruby necklace. I stared at it. I hadn't consciously chosen it. Yet somehow, I knew Cecilia preferred it. I slowly put it down. Then, almost against my will, my hand reached for it again. I pulled my hand back. “This is going to be a problem.” The servant blinked. “My lady?” “Nothing.” I turned toward her, and the words that came out were unmistakably Cecilia's. “Bring me something to eat. I'm starving.” “Yes, my lady.” She hurried toward the door. “Wait.” She stopped. I pointed toward the tray of jewelry. “Put that necklace away.” “Yes, my lady.” “And don't touch the black dress in my wardrobe.” The servant looked surprised. “You usually prefer—” “I said don't touch it.” She immediately bowed. “Yes, my lady.” When she left, I stared at the closed door. I hadn't wanted to speak to her like that. But Cecilia's voice had come naturally. That was going to make things complicated. I had no intention of becoming the villainess. I also had no intention of pretending to be someone else every second of the day. I was Nora. I had my own memories, my own thoughts, and my own values. Unfortunately, the world wasn't going to see any of that. They would see Cecilia. And three men already knew exactly what kind of woman Cecilia was. A knock sounded. I turned. The servant entered again, carrying a silver tray. “Lady Cecilia, there are messages.” “From whom?” She hesitated. “Alpha Draven.” My stomach tightened. Kael. “He wishes to know whether you have recovered.” I stared at her. Of course he did. “Anything else?” “Yes.” She lowered her eyes toward the letters. “Alpha Vale sent one as well.” Lucien. My throat tightened. “And Alpha Veyre?” The servant looked surprised that I knew. “He sent a messenger shortly before dawn.” Damian. I closed my eyes. All three. They weren't strangers waiting somewhere in the future for me to meet them. They were already part of Cecilia's life. They already knew her temper. They already knew her schemes. They already knew how she treated them. And now they would be looking at me, expecting Cecilia. I walked toward the mirror again. The woman staring back at me looked completely composed. If someone had walked into the room at that moment, they would never have guessed that the person behind those violet eyes was internally panicking. I placed my hands on the dressing table and leaned toward my reflection. “Listen,” I whispered. “I don't want your mates.” The pressure in my chest immediately appeared. I stiffened. It wasn't painful enough to stop me, but it was unmistakable. My reflection seemed to glare back. I frowned. “I'm serious.” The pressure increased. I immediately stopped. Apparently, even my body disagreed with me. I exhaled through my nose. Fine. If my body insisted on acting like Cecilia, then I would use it. I didn't need to love these men. I didn't need to pursue them. I didn't need to become the woman Cecilia had been. I only needed to survive long enough to disappear from the story. A knock sounded again. This time, the voice outside belonged to one of the palace guards. “Lady Cecilia, your father requests your presence in the eastern hall.” I turned toward the door. “Why?” There was a brief pause. “The Black Fang Alpha has arrived.” My fingers tightened around the edge of the table. Kael. Already. I looked at myself in the mirror one last time before walking toward the wardrobe. If I wanted to survive, I couldn't afford to behave like Nora in front of people who knew Cecilia better than I did. So when the servant returned with my clothes, I allowed my body to choose the dark red gown it seemed instinctively drawn toward. I let her arrange my hair, and when she fastened the ruby earrings around my ears, I didn't object. By the time I walked out of the room, my expression had become the one Cecilia wore naturally: proud, slightly impatient, and completely unimpressed by the world around her. Inside, however, I was making one decision after another. I would not pursue Kael. I would not flirt with Lucien. I would stay as far away from Damian as possible. And when the time came, I would reject them, choose no one, and find a way to live quietly somewhere far beyond the reach of the plot. That was the plan. Unfortunately, plans were much easier to make when three powerful Alphas hadn't already spent years watching the woman whose face I now wore. And as I walked toward the eastern hall, I couldn't shake the feeling that the moment those three men saw me again, they were going to notice something. Not that I was Nora. They couldn't possibly know that. But something had changed. And men like Kael, Lucien, and Damian were not the sort to ignore a change in a woman they already believed they understood.