Roman Hudson, Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack and Lycan Prince, needed a Luna, and the Alpha Council chose me. Three years into our mate bond, we maintained a polite relationship, living a life that could be considered stable. He courteously called me "Luna," while I addressed him as "Alpha." There was no deep connection between us, only a bond that gradually formed over time. Initially, I thought Roman was as emotionally reserved and detached as I was. But later, I learned that he had once been deeply in love. He had defied his parents' wishes, giving up his position as heir to the Lycan throne, all for her.

Together, they had run wild through the forests of the Mediterranean, howled beneath the full moon in the Appalachian wilderness, and found peace in a small pack nestled in the Alps. Eventually, his family found them, tearing apart their vibrant love story. When he shared this with me, I was deeply moved. I asked him, "Have you ever thought about finding her again?" Roman extinguished his cigarette, his Alpha aura flickering faintly, and replied calmly, "She's already forgotten me."

I became his Luna at twenty-five, our bond arranged by the Alpha Council to strengthen alliances between our packs. It was a union based on responsibility, family, and mutual benefit—love had no part in it. Roman was two years older than me, not a significant difference in the werewolf world. He carried himself with the commanding presence of a Lycan Prince, his aura strong and unwavering. He was like an ancient tome, filled with forgotten stories. I sensed this at our first meeting. Whether it was the pause as he looked at my hands or the way his gaze wandered as he sat across from me, it was clear he had a story to tell. Such a person seemed out of place in a mate arrangement. Yet, there he was.

As I stirred sugar into my coffee, I thought with indifference about how none of us can escape the Moon Goddess's plan. When the time comes, we follow the path laid out for us. It was true for me, and it was true for him as well. The weight of his title, the expectations of his pack, and the shadow of his past all loomed over him, shaping the man he had become. And though our bond was stable, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing—something neither of us dared to name.

We met, dined, and went through the mate pairing ceremony under the watchful eyes of the Alpha Council. After leaving the grand hall, Roman glanced at the time, his Alpha aura radiating calm authority. "I'll be heading back to the pack house tonight," he said, his voice steady but not unkind.

I nodded, my own scent of lavender mingling with his woodsy aroma. "Alright."

He took a step forward, the air shifting subtly with his movement. "There’s a pack meeting. I need to attend."

I offered a polite smile, the title slipping naturally from my lips. "Take care, Alpha."

He inclined his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting mine. "You as well, Luna."

That night, I was on the train to the next city when his call came through. The winter break was nearing, and the train was packed with humans—some dozing off and others engrossed in their phones. Even small movements seemed to grab their attention. I felt out of place among them, my werewolf senses heightened in the crowded space.

I didn’t pick up. Instead, I hung up and saw his message on WhatsApp. I texted back, my fingers moving quickly over the screen.

“Sorry, hard to talk on the train. Can we chat via text?”

In my contact list, his name was saved as "Mate - Alpha Roman Hudson," and then it changed to "typing…" Within moments, his reply popped up, as efficient as ever.

“Sure.”

Roman is quite understanding, I thought, though his Alpha tone sometimes made it hard to tell.

“Not at the pack house?” he asked next.

I typed slowly, my mind wandering to the responsibilities awaiting me. “On a business trip.”

After a short pause—likely he’d set his phone down to tend to pack matters—I went to the restroom, washed my hands, and when I got back, his reply was waiting.

“Where to?”

“City A.”

“When are you back?”

“Wednesday next week.”

“Text me when you arrive in City A.”

“Alright.”

Our conversations were generally brief, and it had been that way for years. He asked, I answered—similar to our interactions in the pack. His role as Alpha kept him busy, and my duties as Luna were no less demanding. We didn’t get to see each other often. At the pack house, we made a point to spend time together as mates at least three times a week.

Most times, he was in his study, poring over pack affairs, and I was in mine, handling Luna duties. Yet at night, when I finished work and looked up, he was always there at the door, his broad frame filling the doorway, his robe casually tied, watching me with a calm intensity that made my heart skip.

I nodded to him, my voice soft. "I'll take a shower. Sorry for making you wait."

He walked over, his presence commanding yet gentle, and lifted me effortlessly. "It wasn’t long," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear.