The Vengeful Return Of His Unwanted Luna

Julianna POV:

The silver tray felt heavy in my hands, heavier than it should have.

The warmth from the porcelain cup of chamomile tea didn't reach my fingertips. They were ice-cold. I took a slow, deliberate breath, trying to push down the knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach. It was a familiar feeling these past few weeks, a constant hum of wrongness whenever I was near my mate, Cameron.

I started up the grand oak staircase, the red velvet runner muffling my footsteps. The silk of my nightgown caught for a second on the fringe, making me stumble. I caught myself quickly, my balance returning as I reached the top of the stairs.

The hallway stretched before me, long and shadowed. The sconces on the wall flickered, casting dancing shadows that played tricks on my eyes. A wave of irritation washed over me, sharp and unwelcome. My inner wolf was restless, pacing the confines of my mind, her senses on high alert.

I slowed my pace as I neared Cameron's study. The heavy oak door was usually shut tight, but tonight, it was slightly ajar.

A sound slipped through the crack.

A soft, breathy moan.

My heart seized in my chest, a brutal, physical clench that stole my breath.

Carefully, I placed the tray on the narrow console table against the wall. The cup rattled against the saucer, a tiny, sharp sound in the oppressive silence. I froze, holding my breath, listening.

No reaction from inside.

I crept closer to the door, my bare feet silent on the polished floorboards. A loose board creaked faintly beneath my weight, and I stopped again, my muscles screaming with tension.

Through the narrow gap, I peered into the dim study. The only light came from the small lamp on his desk, casting long, distorted shadows. Two figures were tangled together on that very desk, their bodies moving in a desperate rhythm.

My vision swam. I blinked, trying to force the image into focus.

I couldn't see the woman's face. Cameron's broad back blocked my view, his powerful form eclipsing her. All I could see was a cascade of blonde curls tumbling over his arm.

Then she made another sound, a soft, purring cry of pleasure.

The sound was familiar. So horribly, sickeningly familiar.

A wave of nausea churned in my gut. My stomach twisted itself into a painful knot.

Cameron shifted, turning his head to press a kiss to the woman's neck. The lamplight fell across her profile, illuminating the delicate curve of her cheek, the line of her jaw.

It was my half-sister, Ana.

My legs gave out. I sagged against the cold wall, the rough texture of the wallpaper digging into my palm, the only thing keeping me upright. My lungs refused to work. I was drowning in the stale air of the hallway.

"But what about Julianna?" Ana's voice was a saccharine whisper, laced with a fake, cloying concern. "She's your fated mate, Cameron."

"I never wanted her," he growled, his voice thick with a passion I had never, ever heard him use for me. It was raw, obsessive. "It was always you, Ana. Only you."

He clutched her tighter, his voice dropping to a vow. "You're the one who saved me. You're my salvation."

The words were like a silver blade, not just to my ears, but to my very soul. A tearing, agonizing pain ripped through my chest. It was the mate bond, recoiling from his brutal, verbal rejection. I clamped my hand over my mouth, biting down hard on my lip to stifle the scream that clawed its way up my throat.

The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. It was a grim anchor in the spinning chaos. I squeezed my eyes shut, cutting off the sight of them, but I couldn't block the sounds.

The rustle of papers being swept from the desk, scattering across the floor. Their ragged breaths, growing more intense.

I couldn't stay here. I couldn't fall apart in the hallway like some tragic heroine. My pride, the only thing I had left, screamed at me to move.

I turned, forcing my trembling legs to obey. In my haste, my foot knocked against a brass vase in the corner.

It didn't fall, but it scraped against the wall with a dull, metallic groan.

Inside the study, the sounds stopped instantly.

"Who's there?" Cameron's voice was a low, dangerous snarl.

My heart hammered against my ribs so hard I thought it would break through. I kicked off my heels, holding them in one hand, my bare feet cold against the floor.

Heavy footsteps approached the door. The crack of light widened as the door was pulled open, casting a long, menacing shadow down the hall, blocking my only path of retreat.

Without thinking, I lunged sideways, slipping into the darkness of a small, cluttered storage closet, the door left carelessly ajar. I pulled it shut just enough, leaving only a sliver to see through.

A cloud of dust filled my nose and I fought back a cough, pressing my hand hard against my mouth and nose.

Cameron stepped into the hallway, his bare chest gleaming in the dim light. He scanned the empty corridor, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. His gaze landed on the console table, on the single cup of tea, now cold.

A flicker of annoyance, maybe even guilt, crossed his face. He grunted, then turned back into the study, slamming the door shut with a deafening bang.

The sound echoed the shattering of my world.

I slid down the wall of the closet, my body finally giving up. I landed on the cold, hard tiles, the chill seeping into my skin. I gasped for air, my lungs burning, my body shaking uncontrollably.

A sliver of moonlight cut through a grimy window high on the closet wall. It illuminated a single tear that escaped and traced a path down my cheek.

But as another followed, the grief in my eyes began to harden. The sorrow froze, crystallizing into something sharp, and cold, and deadly.

I pushed myself to my feet. I smoothed down my rumpled nightgown, straightened my shoulders, and wiped the tears away with the back of my hand.

The weak, heartbroken girl I was just moments ago was left behind in that dusty, dark corner.

I opened the closet door and walked silently back toward my own wing of the manor. Back to my bedroom.