After My Mate Crowned His Mistress as Luna

I woke to the sound of water lapping against stone.

My lungs burned. Every breath felt like swallowing glass. I coughed, and river water spilled from my mouth, bitter and cold. My body was heavy, wrong, like it didn't belong to me anymore.

Where was I?

I tried to move, but my limbs wouldn't cooperate. The world tilted sideways. Sky. Trees. A figure standing over me, backlit by moonlight.

"Easy." The voice was deep, commanding, but not cruel. Not like Cassius's. "Don't move yet."

Strong hands lifted me from the mud. I should have fought. Should have screamed. But I had nothing left. My wolf was silent, buried so deep I couldn't feel her at all.

The man—no, the wolf—pulled me against his chest. Heat radiated from him, chasing away the cold that had seeped into my bones. His scent hit me like a physical force: pine and steel and something wild that made my dormant wolf stir for the first time in months.

Then it happened.

Electricity shot through my body where his skin touched mine. Not painful, but shocking. Alive. The sensation spread from his hands to my chest, wrapping around my heart like a fist.

The man went rigid. His eyes—golden, glowing—locked onto mine.

"MINE." The word came from somewhere deep in his chest, more growl than speech. His Lycan beast, speaking through him.

I didn't understand. Couldn't understand. I already had a mate. A mate who rejected me. A mate who—

"What..." My voice cracked. "What are you?"

"Augustus Walker." He said it like I should know the name. "General of the Royal Army. Lycan Prince."

Prince. Royal. The words floated past me, meaningless.

He wrapped something around my shoulders—a cloak, heavy and warm, smelling like him. His hands lingered on my arms, possessive in a way that should have terrified me but didn't.

"You're safe now," he said, and I almost believed him.

Then he lifted me into his arms like I weighed nothing, and the world went dark again.

---

I woke to softness.

A bed. Clean sheets. The scent of lavender and something medicinal. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, too bright, too warm. This wasn't the servants' quarters. This wasn't anywhere I'd ever been.

Panic clawed up my throat. I tried to sit up, but my body screamed in protest. Bruises covered my arms. My head throbbed where it had hit the rocks.

"You're awake." That voice again. Augustus.

I turned my head too fast, and pain exploded behind my eyes. He stood by the door, watching me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. In the daylight, I could see him clearly: tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and those impossible golden eyes. Battle scars crossed his forearms. He looked like he could tear apart armies with his bare hands.

I should have been afraid.

Instead, something in my chest pulled toward him, desperate and hungry.

"Please don't hurt me," I whispered, hating how small I sounded. "I'll do whatever you want. I'll work. I'll—"

"Stop." He crossed the room in three strides and dropped to his knees beside the bed. Knelt. Before me. "You don't bow to anyone here. Not to me. Not to anyone."

I stared at him. Alphas didn't kneel. Princes didn't kneel. Especially not for Omegas.

"I don't understand," I said.

"You will." His hand reached out, hovering near mine but not touching. Asking permission. "There's something about you. Something—"

The door opened.

A woman entered, and the air itself seemed to shift. She was beautiful in a way that hurt to look at—regal, powerful, with silver streaks in her dark hair and eyes that glowed the same silver as moonlight. The Lycan Queen. I knew it without being told.

She moved toward me like she was being pulled by invisible strings. Her gaze locked onto my face, and something flickered there. Recognition? Impossible.

"May I?" she asked, her voice soft.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

She reached out and pressed her palm to my forehead, checking for fever. The moment her skin touched mine, the world exploded.

Light erupted between us—blinding, silver, pure. It shot through my body like lightning, burning away the fog that had clouded my mind for years. My wolf surged forward, no longer dormant but awake, screaming, alive.

My eyes burned. I gasped, and when I looked down at my hands, they were glowing. Silver light poured from my skin, from my eyes, from somewhere deep inside me that I'd never known existed.

The Queen stumbled backward, tears streaming down her face.

"It's you," she whispered. "My daughter. My baby girl."

The light faded. My brown eyes—I could see them reflected in the window—flashed silver before returning to normal.

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.

"No," I said. "That's not—I'm nobody. I'm just—"

"You're the lost princess," Augustus said quietly. "The White Wolf."

The room spun. This was wrong. This was impossible. I was Violeta Gomez, Omega, worthless, rejected—

The Queen pulled me into her arms, and I shattered.