Twenty-Five Years as His Mate, Until She Arrived

For twenty-five years, I devoted myself to my mate and my son. I buried my own wants so deeply that, somewhere along the way, I forgot I ever had them.

But on the night of our twenty-fifth mating anniversary, I allowed myself one small hope.

The packhouse was warm from the firewood burning in the stone hearth. Outside, the wind carried the distant howls of patrol wolves returning from the borders. Inside, I stood quietly beside the long oak table, my fingers twisting together as I watched my husband.

Alpha Theron Darkmoor sat at the head of the table, scanning reports brought by one of his warriors earlier that evening. His brow was tense, his dark hair streaked with silver now, though age had done little to soften the sharpness in his features.

I swallowed hard.

“Theron,” I said softly. “Do you remember what you promised me when we completed the mating bond?”

He barely looked up. “What now, Elyria?”

My chest tightened at the irritation in his tone, but I forced a smile anyway.

“We never truly celebrated our union,” I murmured. “There was no ceremony beneath the Moon Goddess, no feast, no journey together afterward. The rogues were attacking the borders back then, and afterward… life simply continued.”

He said nothing.

“So I thought maybe…” My voice trembled slightly. “For our twenty-fifth anniversary, perhaps we could travel to the southern territories for a few days. Just the two of us. I heard the Moonfall Cliffs are beautiful during the winter moons.”

Finally, he looked at me.

And the expression on his face made my stomach drop.

“Travel?” he repeated sharply. “Have you lost your senses?”

I blinked.

Then he laughed—a cold, humorless sound.

“You’re far too old to be entertaining foolish fantasies like that.” His amber eyes narrowed. “Do you know what state this pack is in? Half the allied packs are withdrawing trade agreements because of the drought in the eastern hunting lands, and you’re thinking about strolling through Moonfall Cliffs like some pampered Luna?”

His words struck harder than claws.

“I wasn’t asking for much,” I whispered. “I only thought… maybe this once…”

“This once?” he snapped, rising from his chair. “You speak as if I’ve deprived you of something. Everything you have came from me—from this pack. While I carried the burden of keeping our people alive, what exactly did you do besides stay in this packhouse?”

My throat burned.

“I raised our son,” I said weakly.

“And countless servants helped you do even that.” He scoffed. “You’ve lived comfortably for twenty-five years while I bled for this pack.”

Every word peeled something raw inside me.

“I only wanted to experience something for myself,” I said quietly. “You once promised me that when things became peaceful, you would take me to see the western sea.”

Theron’s expression darkened further.

“You sound ungrateful, Elyria.” His voice turned icy. “Maybe you should learn from your cousin, Marisella. Now there is a woman worthy of admiration. Strong. Intelligent. A true Luna in every sense. She stands beside her Alpha as an equal instead of clinging to childish dreams.”

My hands shook violently.

The ceramic cup I’d been holding slipped from my fingers and shattered across the stone floor.

The sharp crack echoed through the hall.

A growl immediately sounded from the adjoining room.

“What is this noise?” my father barked as he entered.

Orion Darkveil still carried the intimidating presence of a former Beta despite his age. His gray eyes swept across the broken pieces at my feet with disgust.

“Unbelievable,” he snarled. “You cannot even hold a cup properly anymore?”

I lowered my head instantly.

“I’m sorry, Father.”

“Sorry?” He scoffed. “Do apologies replace what was broken? Do you know how difficult it is for this pack to maintain supplies through winter?”

His gaze raked over me with open disappointment.

“You are the same age as Marisella, yet she carries herself with dignity and strength. Look at you.” His lip curled. “You shuffle around this packhouse like a lifeless ghost. Sometimes I truly wonder how different things would’ve been if Marisella had been born my daughter instead.”

The bond in my chest ached.

Theron chuckled awkwardly, though amusement still lingered in his eyes.

“Don’t be too harsh on her, Father,” he said lightly. “Elyria tries in her own way.”

Then he looked at me.

“You should not take criticism so personally,” he added. “We only want you to improve yourself. Marisella has qualities worth learning from.”

But my father only snorted.

“Improve?” he repeated bitterly. “Even Theron once admitted he regretted mating so young. Everyone knew Marisella would have made the stronger Luna.”

Silence filled the hall.

I stopped breathing for a moment.

“And yet,” my father continued cruelly, “Theron still accepted you as his mate. You should thank the Moon Goddess every day for that blessing.”

Something inside me cracked.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

Just quietly… like old ice finally giving way beneath too much weight.

I crouched to gather the shattered ceramic pieces with trembling fingers. A jagged edge sliced across my palm instantly.

Blood welled up fast, bright crimson against pale skin.

But I barely felt it.

The pain in my chest was far worse.

Neither of them moved toward me.

Neither of them cared.

They continued talking above me as though I were nothing more than another servant cleaning the floor.

Then Theron said casually, almost laughing, “Marisella would have been admirable as a Luna. But Elyria…” He shrugged. “Elyria is simply convenient.”

Convenient.

The word hollowed me out completely.

Like worn furniture kept around because replacing it required effort.

Like an old cloak no one bothered throwing away.

I gathered the remaining shards with both bleeding hands now, ignoring the sting as blood smeared across my skin.

Still, no one offered help.

No one asked if I was hurt.

I rose silently and walked toward the wash basin near the kitchen hearth. The cold water turned pink, then red, before finally running clear again.

For a long moment, I stared at my reflection in the darkened window beside the sink.

A tired woman stared back at me.

Faded eyes.

Bent shoulders.

No spark left.

When had I become this person?

Later that evening, the dining bell rang through the packhouse.

Like always, I prepared the meal myself despite the cooks offering assistance. Theron had requested venison stew earlier that morning, so I spent hours making it exactly the way he preferred.

I carried each bowl carefully to the table while the others spoke amongst themselves.

Our son barely glanced at me.

Theron took a spoonful of stew.

Then immediately spat it back into the bowl.

“The hell is this?” he barked.

The entire table fell silent.

“It tastes awful.” His face twisted with disgust as he shoved the bowl away. “Can’t you do even one thing correctly?”