SECOND SEDUCTION WITH THE MOON

The night sky was quite dim but still bright enough for Lydia Smith to see the soft glow on Samuel Joe’s handsome features. Had he not uttered the most absurd thing Lydia had ever heard, she might have believed he could at least be a fair match to the Alpha King.

Lydia blinked and forced a brittle smile to hide the disbelief swirling in her chest. “Samuel, this has to be some twisted joke, right? Amanda Luke?” Her voice cracked as she turned her gaze toward her friend, who was cradled in Samuel’s arms.

With fluttering lashes, Amanda’s wide, doe-like eyes met Lydia’s—eyes filled with guilt and an unsettling hint of triumph. Amanda bit her lip pitifully and inched closer into Samuel’s embrace, as if seeking protection.

That reaction made Lydia’s heart tremble. Amanda had always been gentle—perhaps overly so—but never like this… coquettish in a way that felt unnatural. What, exactly, was her dearest friend doing in the arms of her mate?

Samuel ran a hand through the soft locs of his hair with practiced regret, then heaved a sigh that broke the tense silence. “I’m sorry, Lydia. The moon goddess must have made the wrong match this time. I love you—but only as a friend, I—”

Lydia shook her head in disbelief, hurt flashing in her eyes. “Samuel, we’ve been mates since we came of age. There’s only one moon left before our marriage ceremony—where is this coming from?”

She watched as Samuel drew a deep breath and tightened his grip around Amanda—a telltale sign of his anxiety that she knew all too well. That gesture churned her stomach and ignited a wild fury within her.

His next words came out calm and measured, yet laced with unmistakable condescension.

“Let’s be honest, Lydia. You’ve always been fiercely independent, too strong-willed to settle into a true, ideal partnership between mates. You know a little too much about the sword and excel on the battlefield—but you’ve never seemed comfortable with the softer roles required of a mate. I need someone who understands that balance.”

Anger surged through Lydia’s veins as she tightened her jaw. “Softer roles?” she repeated sharply.

Samuel nodded almost pityingly. “A woman who embraces what it means to be a true partner—not merely an equal, but someone who complements me… Amanda. She understands that.”

From the corner of her eye, Lydia saw Amanda lower her gaze, cheeks flushed as if embarrassed by the attention. Yet her body spoke otherwise: her delicate hands rested on Samuel’s chest, her fingers tracing small circles that said everything.

Samuel sighed again. “Lydia, you’ll only ever be a friend to me. I can’t see you as a woman. We both know you’d struggle in a real family. You can embroider poorly and sometimes you’re like a boring wildflower—” He abruptly caught himself, guilt and regret flashing through his eyes as he watched Lydia stagger back in shock at his words.

They had been childhood friends turned mates, blessed by the moon goddess herself—even on the scarlet full moon. Everything had been fine, even better for him when he gained the favor of her brother, the Beta of the pack, and slowly became the most respected Knight in the Pack. He knew the little sacrifices Lydia made to help him rise in rank. She had only learned the art of the sword because of him. He had wanted a strong woman to match his occupation and the risks it entailed—and she had been that choice.

Samuel refused to believe he was heartless. He cared for Lydia deeply and felt most at ease around her, yet he’d begun noticing something about his friend, Amanda. Amanda was soft—a damsel in distress, perfectly suited for a knight’s protection. She was like a delicate white flower, evoking in those around her the urge to protect her, including him.

He discovered he was drawn to women who made him feel wanted, women who could be vulnerable with him—and that was something he felt was missing with Lydia. She was simply too perfect; she helped him, but he needed someone who could stand still and let him do the heavy lifting. Someone not Lydia.

He convinced himself it was kind and benevolent to reject her as his mate before their mating ceremony was complete. Keeping both women around would only cause her more suffering.

Lydia understood, too. The girl in Samuel’s arms—her best friend—was everything she was not: outspoken, fond of chatter, enamored with the beauty of flowers and the woods. If Lydia was the black rose of the Shadowclaw pack, then her friend was the white lotus.

Her voice weak and void of emotion, Lydia asked, “If you had doubts, why didn’t you speak up before now? Why wait until—?”

Amanda interjected softly, her voice trembling on the verge of tears, “It just happened, Lydia. I swear, we didn’t mean for this to happen. I never wanted to hurt you—you’re like a sister to me.”

“A sister?” Those words felt like a slap to Lydia’s face. Unsure whether to laugh or cry, she stared at Amanda—the perfect picture of guilt and innocence, her voice shaking as if she were the victim.

Amanda then looked tenderly at Samuel and said, “Samuel and I… we tried to fight it, but the bond we share is undeniable. Please try to understand.”

“I understand,” Lydia’s voice broke, though she bit her lip to keep the tears at bay. “I understand that you stole my mate and that you both betrayed me.”

Amanda’s lips quivered as she reached out as if to touch Lydia’s arm. “Lydia, please don’t say it like that…”

Samuel quickly interjected to protect Amanda, “Lydia, for old times’ sake, please don’t make this harder than it already is. If you truly love me, you’d want me to be happy, right?” He sighed wearily.

Lydia nodded slowly, her eyes rimmed red with unshed tears that tightened her throat. She parted her lips coldly, “I, Lydia Smith, daughter of the Cabin of Julio Smith, hereby accept your rejection as my mate, and I swear this by the staff of love and under the scarlet moon.”

She fought back the scream that nearly escaped as a painful, sizzling sensation crawled along her marked neck; their mate bond—though weakening—twisted painfully along her spine. The scab of Samuel’s claim on her slowly fell away. Lydia’s body ached, and suddenly she felt her wolf roaring to break free.

Knowing it would be the most excruciating night yet, she succumbed to her wolf form and dashed away through the woods, ignoring the echo of her name shouted by Samuel.

She refused to be seen broken—especially not by the mate who had just betrayed and rejected her.

Far from the scene, atop a lonely hill, sat a figure whose very aura could send night beasts fleeing. Beside him, another man with a tall, trembling back watched the unfolding drama with simmering anger.

The man in the black robe observed his friend carefully. “Aren’t you going to seek revenge on that man for using and hurting your sister?” His deep voice was dangerously low and nonchalant.

“Her sister would despise my interference—otherwise, that stupid Knight wouldn’t see the next moon’s light. I’d tear his limbs with my claws and feed him to the lowly dogs,” sneered the companion, clenching his fist as anger radiated from him.

“Fair enough,” replied the robed man with a cold smirk.

“I won’t accompany you any longer. I have to find my sister.” The companion bowed resolutely, and the robed man dismissed him with a wave.

With a swift motion, the companion vanished into the dense woods while the robed man watched coldly as Samuel drew Amanda into his embrace.

“What an unsightly scene,” he tutted, his breathtaking face glowering in disdain. Flicking his robe, he made an arcane gesture with his hands.

This caused a ripple in the atmosphere—a gust of strong wind battered the couple, forcing them to break apart and shield themselves.

He harrumphed coldly before disappearing into the night. In his heart, he swore it wasn’t because he’d had a fondness for Lydia since childhood—it was solely out of loyalty to his friend, the Beta wolf. Otherwise, he’d never be so petty. Besides, they were an eyesore!

As if! Alpha Peter would never know how sharply his words would later bite.

FIVE YEAR LATER

The night was filled with a faint scent of pine and lavender. Lydia Smith stood before the mirror, tying the delicate black ribbon of her mask. She inhaled deeply, letting the cool breeze soothe her neck as she assessed her overall outlook. The mask was an elegant piece, crafted with delicate filigree that framed her face; its simplicity was offset by the gentle shimmer of moonstone accents.

Tonight was the celebration of the Eclipse Flame—a sacred full moon bonfire that fostered unity and renewal, hence the masks. The ceremony was an ancient tradition that marked the unity of the pack members despite their differences. But for Lydia, it was more than just an age-old rite for werewolves—it was her debut into the Pack's social life after a year of solitude and healing.

A soft rap on the door interrupted her thoughts, and the door burst open before she could reply. Only a few people would dare do that, a