His Possessive Luna

A Beast Unleashed

Xavier's POV

I don't remember walking back to my hotel. One second I'm standing in that hall, and the next Sean's shoving a drink into my hand, telling me to sit before I put my fist through something.

"Talk to me," he says. "Actually talk, not the usual brooding silence you do."

"Gold Moon." My voice doesn't sound like mine. "William Gold is her mate."

Sean goes very still. "You're certain?"

"I felt it the second he walked in. So did she." I set the glass down before I crush it. "Two of us. She has two of us."

"That's not possible," Sean says, though he doesn't sound convinced of his own words. "Fated mates come one to a wolf. Always."

"Tell that to my wolf. He wanted to rip Gold's throat out on sight, and it had nothing to do with our history." I drag a hand down my face. "This isn't jealousy, Sean. This is instinct telling me she belongs to me, and something else telling me she belongs to him too, and I don't know how to make that make sense."

Sean's quiet for a while, turning his own glass in slow circles. He's still raw himself — has been since Amelia, since he rejected her and it cost him more than he expected. I've watched him get quieter over the past week, watched the color drain a little more from him each day he refuses to admit what that rejection is doing to his own strength. He'd know better than most what it means to fight against a bond instead of with one.

"What do you want to do?" he finally asks.

"I want to go back in there and make it very clear whose she is."

"And if you do that in front of every Alpha and Beta currently in that hall, in the middle of a Ceremony designed to prevent exactly this kind of conflict?" Sean shakes his head. "You'll hand every pack here a reason to fear you. Worse — you'll hand them a reason to fear her. Two Alphas fighting over the same girl doesn't read as romance to outsiders, Xavier. It reads as a war starting."

He's right, and I hate that he's right.

"She didn't ask for this," I say, quieter now.

"No. She didn't. Which means the only person you actually have any right to be angry at is Fate itself, and good luck challenging that to a fight."

I almost laugh, despite everything. Almost.

"What about Gold?" I ask. "What's his angle?"

"I don't know him well enough to say. But Marcus — his Beta — served under his father before William took over. If the son is anything like what I've heard, he's more careful than his predecessors. More patient." Sean pauses. "Which might be worse for you, actually. A hothead you can outlast. A patient man waits for you to make a mistake."

"So what — I do nothing?"

"You do nothing publicly," Sean says. "You let her figure out what she wants, without either of you crowding her into a corner. You've been telling her for weeks that you'll claim her the right way, once things settle. This is exactly the kind of moment that tests whether you meant that."

I hate how much sense he makes. I also hate that he's clearly speaking from his own mistakes as much as mine — Amelia didn't get patience from him, and it cost him a mate he might never get back.

"And if he pushes her the way you never let yourself push Jane?" I ask. "If he's better at pretending to be patient than actually being it?"

"Then you'll know soon enough. Watch him. Don't fight him yet."

I don't sleep that night. My wolf paces the whole time, restless in a way I haven't felt since the day I first saw her at the airport. Every time I close my eyes, I see William's hand around hers, steady and certain, and something in my chest goes tight enough to ache.

By morning, I've made a decision, even if I don't love it.

I find her exactly where I hoped I would — in the private garden behind her family's estate, the one spot I've learned she retreats to when she needs to think. She's sitting on the low stone wall, arms wrapped around her knees, staring at nothing in particular.

She looks up before I've said a word, like she already sensed me coming.

"You're angry," she says.

"I am."

"At me?"

"At the situation. Not you." I sit beside her, close enough that our shoulders nearly touch, far enough that I'm not crowding her. "Tell me what you're feeling. Honestly. Not what you think I want to hear."

She's quiet for a long moment. "Confused," she finally says. "My wolf reacts to both of you the same way. I don't understand how that's possible, and I don't know what it means, and I hate that I don't have an answer for you."

"You don't owe me an answer yet," I say, though it costs me something to say it. "But I need you to know — I'm not walking away from this. From you. Whatever this second bond means, it doesn't change what I already told you. I'm claiming you, the right way, once the dust settles. I'd rather earn that than force it."

Something in her expression softens, just slightly. "And William?"

"I don't know what to do about William," I admit. "My wolf wants to tear him apart on sight, and some very small, very buried part of me that isn't a wolf understands he probably feels exactly the same about me. That's not a great foundation for sharing a girl peacefully."

She almost laughs, though it comes out more tired than amused. "No. Probably not."

"I won't ask you to choose right now," I say. "But I need you to know I intend to be the answer, eventually. However long that takes."

She looks at me for a long moment, something unreadable behind those sea-green eyes. "Why do I believe you?"

"Because unlike some people," I say, "I've never once told you what to feel. Just what I feel."

For the first time since last night, she smiles — small, but real.

Neither of us says William's name again. But I can feel him anyway, somewhere across the territory, and I know this isn't over. Not close to over.