His Unwanted Mate: The Secret White Wolf

Seraphina POV:

I pulled the rosemary-crusted rack of lamb out of the oven, the heat seeping through my thick oven mitts while my stomach twisted into a cold, tight knot.

The antique clock on the penthouse kitchen wall showed eight in the evening. It was the eighth anniversary of the mating contract binding me to Julian Carlisle, the billionaire CEO of Black Stone Group and the supreme Alpha of the Black Stone Pack.

I glanced down at my left wrist. A custom anti-silver cuff sat cold against my pulse, masking the dormant aura inside me. To everyone in the Manhattan pack hierarchy, I was a genetic defect-a wolfless housewife who could neither shift into a Dire Wolf nor emit a scent, surviving solely on the Alpha's charity.

Closing my eyes, I tried to reach Julian through our Mind-Link. In werewolf society, mates and pack members preferred the Mind-Link to phones because it was instantaneous and could not be hacked. Yet the moment my awareness reached out, it hit an impenetrable barrier and recoiled, leaving a dull ache behind my eyes.

A Mind-Link required mutual mental alignment; Julian had sealed his barrier shut, refusing to let even a fraction of my emotions touch him. I exhaled slowly and picked up my phone from the marble island.

I dialed Julian's private number. The phone rang for a long time before the call abruptly ended. He had hung up on me.

A second later, a message appeared on my screen. "Busy."

My throat constricted until swallowing hurt. I took a deep breath and pressed two fingers to the throbbing vein between my eyebrows. Turning toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, I stared out at the glittering Manhattan skyline from the penthouse atop Black Stone Castle.

Since Julian refused to come home, I called my seven-year-old son, Finn. A child with strong Alpha blood should have known better than to leave his mother alone on a night like this.

I tapped the contact for Finn's smartwatch. It rang for nearly a minute before someone answered, and the gentle swell of a live violin drifted through the speaker from an upscale French restaurant.

"Finn, are you with your dad?" I kept my voice steady and soft.

Instead of Finn's voice, a sugary, breathless laugh echoed over the line.

"Oh, Seraphina, are you really using a seven-year-old's watch to check up on your husband?"

Chloe Sterling's voice hit me as a bucket of ice water poured straight over my head. She was the cherished heiress of the Sterling family and Julian's childhood sweetheart, a high-ranking she-wolf who had spent months trying to take my place as Luna.

My fingers tightened around my phone until my knuckles turned white. "Chloe? Why do you have Finn's watch?"

"Julian brought us out for a special anniversary dinner, and Finn is busy begging me to cut his steak," Chloe purred, emphasizing the word "us."

I could barely breathe. On the night of our anniversary, my husband had taken our son out to celebrate with another woman.

In the background, Finn's sharp, young voice rang out clearly. "Auntie Chloe, ignore that boring woman! She doesn't even have an Inner Wolf, and she has zero scent! I hate her!"

Among werewolves, a distinct scent was the primary mark of bloodline and status. Because my aura was sealed, even my own son looked down on me as less than human. My knees buckled, and my lower back slammed against the cold edge of the marble counter.

"Did you hear that, Seraphina?" Chloe whispered, dripping with malice. "A pup's instincts never lie. He needs a powerful, pureblooded Luna as a role model, not a pathetic wolfless waste of space."

I bit down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted iron, refusing to plead the way I had for the past seven years. "Put him on."

I heard movement on the other end before Finn's impatient voice came through the receiver. "What? I'm busy! Dad said I can stay out until ten tonight!"

"Finn, tonight is my-"

"You're so annoying! All you ever do is nag me! I wish Auntie Chloe was my mom!"

The line went dead. I lowered the phone from my ear and watched the glass screen fade to black.

On the dining table, the rack of lamb had gone completely cold, the fat coating it in a waxy white film. I walked over to the table and picked up the heavy platter with both hands.

Without a second of hesitation, I let go.

The platter plunged to the hardwood floor and shattered into jagged white shards. A sharp piece sliced across my bare calf, drawing a thin bead of blood, yet I felt nothing at all. The invisible hand crushing my chest had finally squeezed the last bit of warmth out of my heart.

I picked up my phone again, scrolled to the contact labeled "Audrey," and pressed call.