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My Mate Returned with a Luna and Child Novel Cover

My Mate Returned with a Luna and Child

Five years. That’s exactly how long it takes to turn a grieving heart into a block of ice, and I had become an expert sculptor. As the lead Event Coordinator for the Regional Alpha Council, I didn't have the luxury of emotions. I had a schedule, a clipboard, and a ballroom in downtown Los Angeles that needed to look like the Moon Goddess herself had decorated it. "The hydrangeas are wilting on table six," I barked into my headset, striding across the polished marble floor of the hotel lobby. My heels clicked a sharp, staccato rhythm that made the junior staff scatter like frightened rabbits. "Replace them. Now. And tell the valet team that if they scratch another Alpha's SUV, they’re paying for it in blood." I checked my watch. The Moon Goddess Gala was the premier event of the season, a place where alliances were forged and broken over champagne.
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Chapter 4

The California sun felt like a spotlight, but the heat coming from across the pool was far more intense. Sebastian hadn't stopped staring at me. It was a heavy, suffocating gaze that ignored his wife, his child, and the fifty other high-ranking wolves in the vicinity.

I shifted in my chair, pulling my cover-up tighter around my throat. Kyla’s laughter had died down, replaced by a silence that felt sharper than a blade. I risked a glance in her direction. She wasn't looking at Sebastian anymore. She was looking at two massive men in the shallow end—Ironclad Deltas, their shoulders as wide as doorways.

She gave a barely perceptible nod.

"Heads up!" one of the men roared.

A volleyball slammed into the concrete inches from my feet, bouncing with violent force. Before I could even flinch, the water erupted.

"My bad!" the second Delta shouted, lunging out of the pool ostensibly to retrieve the ball. But he didn't stop at the edge.

He was three hundred pounds of wet, shifting muscle, and he didn't stumble—he aimed. His shoulder checked me with the force of a freight train. The air left my lungs in a whoosh, my chair tipped backward, and gravity took over.

I hit the water hard.

The shock of the cold was instantaneous. I plunged into the deep end, the chlorine stinging my eyes. Instinct screamed at me to kick, to paddle, to shift—anything. But my wolf... she was gone. Buried under five years of grief and the fresh trauma of seeing Sebastian, she was curled into a tight, trembling ball in the back of my mind. She offered no buoyancy. No strength.

My heavy cover-up tangled around my legs like a shroud. I opened my mouth to scream, but water rushed in, filling my throat. Panic, cold and absolute, seized my limbs. I was sinking. The surface seemed miles away, a shimmering ceiling of light I couldn't reach.

*This is it,* I thought, the darkness creeping in at the edges of my vision. *I survived his death only to drown at his party.*

Then, the water exploded again.

Through the bubbles and the blur, a dark shape shot toward me. Strong hands gripped my waist, bruising and desperate. I was hauled upward, breaking the surface with a gasp that tore at my throat.

"I've got you. Breathe, El. Breathe!"

Corbin.

He was soaked, his white dress shirt clinging to his chest, his hair plastered to his forehead. He didn't drag me to the ladder; he lifted me effortlessly, carrying me bridal style out of the pool as if I weighed nothing. He stepped onto the pool deck, water streaming from his expensive slacks, his chest heaving.

The music had stopped. The chatter had died. Every eye was on us.

"Oops," the Delta who had pushed me sneered, treading water near the edge. "Slippery deck, huh?"

Corbin didn't look at me. He looked at the man in the water. And then, he let out a sound that made the glass on the tables vibrate.

It wasn't a shout. It was a growl—low, guttural, and laced with enough Alpha dominance to force the weaker wolves in the crowd to their knees. The air around us crackled with ozone and rage. Corbin’s eyes, usually so warm, were glowing a lethal, incandescent amber.

"Get out," Corbin commanded, his voice shaking with restrained violence.

The Delta’s smirk vanished. He shrank back against the tiles.

"If you or anyone from your pack touches her again," Corbin snarled, projecting his voice so it echoed off the hotel walls, "I will not file a complaint. I will wipe the Ironclad Pack from the Council registry myself."

Silence stretched, taut and terrified. Even Sebastian, standing on the far side of the pool, looked pale. Corbin tightened his grip on me, shielding my shivering body from their stares, claiming me in front of everyone.

"I... I need to change," I chattered, my teeth clicking together. The adrenaline was fading, leaving me nauseous.

"I'm taking you to your room," Corbin said, turning his back on the Ironclad wolves.

"No," I whispered, pushing weakly against his chest. "I can't run away. I have to finish the event. Just... let me dry off in the locker room. Please, Corbin. Don't let them see me break."

He hesitated, searching my face, then nodded once, his jaw set. He set me down gently near the changing rooms but stood guard at the entrance like a sentinel.

I stumbled into the women's locker room, the heavy door shutting out the noise of the party. It was cool and quiet inside. I grabbed a towel from the stack, wrapping it around my trembling shoulders, trying to wring the pool water out of my hair.

My ear throbbed where the water pressure had hit it, but the real pain was in my chest. They wanted to hurt me. Kyla wanted me gone, and she didn't care how.

The door creaked open behind me.

"I'm fine, Corbin," I called out, wiping my eyes. "Just give me a second."

"Corbin isn't here."

The voice was small, high-pitched, and terrifyingly sweet.

I spun around. Standing by the row of lockers was Oaklyn. She was still in her little swimsuit, her curls dripping wet. She wasn't holding her bear this time. Her hands were empty, hanging loosely at her sides.

"Oaklyn?" I stepped back, my back hitting the cold tile wall. "You shouldn't be in here alone. Where is your mother?"

The little girl didn't answer. She took a step toward me, her bare feet silent on the wet floor. She tilted her head, studying me with an intensity that belonged to a predator, not a child.

"Daddy likes you too much," she said. It wasn't a question. It was an accusation.

"I... I knew your daddy a long time ago," I stammered, my heart hammering against my ribs. "We were friends."

"Mommy says friends don't look at each other like that," Oaklyn whispered. She took another step.

Suddenly, her face contorted. Her jaw unhinged slightly, a sickening pop echoing in the tiled room. Her blue eyes were swallowed by black pupils, and her fingernails elongated, curving into sharp, jagged claws.

She wasn't fully shifting—she was too young for that—but the wolf was pushing through, violent and uncontrolled.

"Oaklyn, stop!" I raised my hands.

She lunged.

It was a blur of motion. She snapped her jaws at my face, a guttural snarl ripping from her small throat. I jerked my head to the side, but not fast enough.

*Snap.*

Pain flared hot and sharp at the top of my ear. A lock of my wet hair floated to the floor, severed cleanly. I gasped, clutching the side of my head, feeling the warm trickle of blood against my cold fingers.

Oaklyn landed on her feet, spitting the hair from her mouth. She looked up at me, blood on her teeth, smiling that same angelic smile.

Then, the static screamed in my mind, louder than ever before. Her wolf’s voice crashed into my consciousness, raw and hateful.

*Die, spare part!* the voice shrieked in my head. *Die so Daddy can be ours again!*

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