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My Mate Rejected Me and Crowned His Mistress Luna Novel Cover

My Mate Rejected Me and Crowned His Mistress Luna

The comm crackled in my ear, static mixing with panicked breathing. I leaned forward in the monitoring station, my fingers hovering over the controls. "Nola? Report. What's your status?" Silence. Then screaming. My heart slammed against my ribs as I tried to make sense of the chaos flooding through the line. Snarls. Howls. The unmistakable sound of Rogues.
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Chapter 5

The glass doors exploded.

Shards rained down like crystal snow as Jericho's security detail breached the entrance. But I barely registered them. All I could see was him.

Jericho.

He strode through the wreckage, his presence filling the massive lobby like a physical force. The air itself seemed to bend around him, crackling with power that made my skin prickle even from across the room.

His Lycan Aura hit like a sledgehammer.

Every wolf in the lobby dropped. Alphas, Betas, warriors—it didn't matter. They all went down, their knees slamming into marble with sickening cracks. Gasps and choked screams echoed off the walls as the pressure crushed them into submission.

Alistair collapsed beside me, his face contorted in agony. Nola hit the floor hard, her designer heels skittering across the polished stone.

But Jericho's aura didn't touch me. It wrapped around me like a shield, warm and protective, even as it destroyed everyone else.

He walked past Alistair without a glance. Past Nola. Past all of them.

His eyes were only for Eddie.

He scooped our son into his arms with a gentleness that contradicted the lethal energy radiating from every inch of his body. Eddie's breathing was still shallow, but the moment Jericho's hands touched him, some of the tension left his small frame.

"Who dared to harm the Lycan Prince?"

Jericho's voice was quiet. Deadly. It cut through the silence like a blade.

No one answered. No one could. They were all too busy trying to breathe under the weight of his power.

He turned to me, his dark eyes softening for just a moment. "Are you hurt?"

I shook my head. My throat was too tight to speak.

Jericho's gaze swept the room, landing on each prostrate wolf in turn. Then he spoke again, his voice carrying the unmistakable command of a king.

"Rise."

The pressure eased. Not completely—just enough for them to struggle to their feet. Alistair hauled himself up, his face pale and slick with sweat. Nola clutched at a marble column, her carefully styled hair falling into her face.

Jericho shifted Eddie to one arm and reached for me with the other. His hand found the small of my back, pulling me close. Then he kissed me.

It wasn't gentle. It was possessive. Claiming. A public declaration that left no room for doubt.

When he pulled back, his voice rang out across the lobby.

"This is Kaia Hayes. My mate. My equal. Your Lycan Queen."

The silence that followed was deafening.

I watched the realization dawn on face after face. Shock. Disbelief. Horror.

But it was Alistair's expression that held my attention. The color had drained from his face completely. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. His eyes—those eyes that had once looked at me with love—were wide with something that looked like terror.

"No," he whispered. "No, that's not—she's not—"

"She is." Jericho's tone was ice. "And you will address her as Your Majesty."

Alistair's wolf was fighting him. I could see it in the way his hands trembled, the way his jaw clenched. He'd rejected his true mate. Rejected royalty. And now he was paying the price.

But I wasn't done.

I stepped forward, pulling away from Jericho's protective hold. My wolf surged to the surface, and I felt my eyes shift—white light bleeding through as my Alpha power rose.

I looked at Nola.

She was still clinging to the column, her face a mask of terror and rage. When our eyes met, she flinched.

"You destroyed my mother's locket," I said quietly. "You threatened my son. You told a healer to let him die."

Nola's mouth worked. "I—I didn't mean—"

"I challenge you." The words came out steady. Final. "For the insult to my family. For the destruction of my heirloom. I challenge you to a duel."

Nola's eyes went wide. "No. No, I'm Luna of Shadow Ridge. I don't have to—"

"You do."

The voice came from the edge of the crowd. An older man stepped forward, his silver hair gleaming under the lobby lights. Marcus Blackwood. Head of the Werewolf Council.

He looked at Nola with cold assessment. "An insult to the Royal Family must be answered. You have two choices, Luna Ross. Accept the challenge, or be executed for treason on the spot."

Nola's face went from pale to gray. She looked at Alistair, desperate, but he was staring at me like he'd seen a ghost.

No help there.

She turned back to me, and I saw the moment she realized she had no way out.

"I accept," she whispered.

My wolf smiled.

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