THE MOON BLESSED REJECTION

I had Marcus flat on the ground in eleven seconds flat.

My knee dug right between his shoulder blades, one hand cranking his wrist up high behind his back while the other pinned the back of his neck down hard. Dirt was all over my shin. Sweat was sliding down my spine like it was in a damn hurry. Marcus slapped the mat twice, fast and desperate, like he was about to pass out.

“Tap louder, asshole,” I said.

His voice came out all muffled and strained against the dirt. “I’m tapping, Lyra. Damn it.”

I held him there for one extra second.

Not because I had to.

Because I fucking wanted to.

Then I let go and stepped back.

Marcus rolled onto his side, coughing his lungs out, and looked up at me with that same face they all get after I drop them. Half respect, half “what the hell is wrong with you.” Like getting beat by me was one thing, but seeing me actually enjoy it was something else entirely.

“Again?” I asked, wiping my hands on my shorts.

He stared at me a second longer, then pushed himself up with a grunt. “Nah, I think I like breathing, thanks.”

A couple of the younger warriors hanging around the fence laughed, but it cut off quick. It always did around me.

I grabbed my water bottle off the fence post and chugged it, eyes scanning the training yard. Late afternoon sun was beating down. Most of the pack had already bailed inside. Good. Fewer people meant fewer whispers behind my back.

Not zero whispers.

Just fewer.

I still heard the same shit anyway.Lyra’s too damn aggressive, Lyra doesn’t know when to quit.

Lucifer should’ve picked somebody softer.

I screwed the cap back on way too hard and shoved the bottle into my bag like it owed me money.

Marcus walked up next to me, rubbing the back of his neck like it was gonna fall off. “You’re in a mood today.”

“I’m always in a mood.”

He snorted. “No. Today you’re one step away from actually cracking somebody’s ribs.”

“Then maybe somebody should stop volunteering to get their ass handed to them.”

He gave me a long look, like he wanted to say something real, then thought better of it. Smart guy.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed for the packhouse. The burn in my muscles should’ve felt good. It usually did. Usually after a solid beat-down my wolf would stretch out inside me all lazy and smug, like she was giving me a thumbs-up for the violence. Today she just felt restless. Wide awake in the wrong kinda way. Like her ears were up, listening for something I couldn’t hear yet.

The packhouse was loud with that pre-dinner chaos when I stepped inside. Folks moving through the halls, laughing from the kitchen, the smell of roast meat and fresh bread hitting me like a hug. Home, if you looked at it from a distance.

Up close? Yeah, it hit different.

People smiled, but never too long. They moved out of my way, but it wasn’t warm. They looked at me, then looked away real quick.

I was tolerated here.

That wasn’t the same as being wanted.

I climbed the stairs to the second floor, sweat drying cold on my skin. Lucifer’s office was at the end of the hall, door cracked open like always. Voices inside, his and Cole’s.

I didn’t knock. I never used to have to.

I pushed the door open and leaned against the frame. “Hey.”

Cole looked up first. “Lyra.”

Lucifer barely even glanced my way.

He was sitting behind his desk, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, papers and territory maps spread out everywhere. Those grey eyes flicked over me once, then dropped right back to whatever he was reading.

That little nothing movement shouldn’t have stung.

It did anyway.

“Just wrapped up training,” I said. “Marcus only lasted eleven seconds today. New personal record for him.”

Cole let out a polite little huff, trying to play along.

Lucifer just went, “Hmm.”

That was it.

One fucking sound.

No smile. No look. No “you good?” No “nice job, babe.”

Something hot and stupid twisted up under my ribs. “You could at least pretend to give a shit.”

That got his attention.

His eyes lifted slow to mine. Cool. Flat. “I’m in the middle of something, Lyra.”

I let out a short laugh that had zero humor in it. “Yeah. Clearly.”

Cole suddenly got real interested in the map, shifting in his seat like he wished he was anywhere else.

I should’ve left it there. I knew I should’ve. But I was tired, sore, and sick of feeling like an interruption in my own damn life.

“I just figured,” I said, “since I spend half my time out there training your warriors, you might actually care if I’m getting any better at it.”

Lucifer leaned back in his chair. “If you need a pat on the back every time you do your job, that sounds like a you problem.”

The words hit clean. Sharp. Like he’d said them just to cut.For one second, nobody moved.

Then I nodded once, like it was nothing. Like I hadn’t just felt something inside me shrivel up.

“Got it,” I said.

I pulled the door shut behind me and stood in the hallway staring at the wood grain like it had personally pissed me off.

My wolf stirred hard under my skin.

Not hurt, like a warning.

I shoved the feeling down and kept walking.

He’s stressed, I told myself.

Pack business. Border crap. Alpha shit.

I’d gotten real good at making excuses for him.

By the time I got to our room, I almost believed it again.

I dropped my bag by the bed and started yanking off my boots.

That was when I smelled it.

Vanilla.

I froze.

Not mine, not his, not the laundry detergent or the cheap soap they stock in every bathroom.

Vanilla.

Soft. Sweet. Familiar enough to make my stomach knot up before my brain even caught up.

Serena.

I stood up slow.

The scent wasn’t coming from the room itself.

It was coming from Lucifer’s jacket hanging over the chair by the desk.

I crossed the room without thinking and leaned in, taking one deep breath.

My wolf went completely still.

There it was. Vanilla mixed with something warmer underneath...skin, heat, that close, too-long kind of closeness two wolves leave on each other.

“No,” I whispered.

But my body already knew before my head would let itself believe it.

That was Serena’s scent, my best friend.

I jerked back from the jacket like it burned me.

This was stupid, paranoid and embarrassing as hell.

Serena hugged everybody. Serena was touchy-feely. Serena leaned on people, smiled at them like they hung the moon. That was just Serena.

That was what I told myself.

The same thing I’d told myself two weeks ago when I caught that same vanilla on one of his shirts and he looked at me like I was losing my mind.

She was upset, Lyra. I comforted her. Are you really gonna make this a thing?

And because I didn’t want to be the crazy, insecure mate, I let it go.

I always let it go.

I changed out of my training clothes in total silence,my jaw locked tight, movements robotic. I fold the shirt, toss the pants. With warnings ringing in my heart. Don’t look at the jacket again. Don’t sniff the room too hard. Don’t let your brain turn this into something uglier than it already feels.

The bedroom door opened and Lucifer walked in. He didn’t look at me, just went straight to the closet and grabbed a clean shirt, already unbuttoning the one he had on.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey.”

“How was the meeting?”

“Long.”

One word. Again.

I watched him peel off the shirt and spotted it then, high on the side of his neck. Not a full mark, just the faintest pink scrape. Like somebody’s nail had dragged there.

By accident.

Or not.

My throat went dry.

He caught me staring and yanked the clean shirt on fast. “What?”

“Nothing.”

His eyes narrowed just a little, like he knew I was full of shit but couldn’t be bothered to call me on it.

I almost asked.

Your jacket smells like Serena.

Why the hell is there a scratch on your neck?

Why do you look at me like talking to me is some kind of chore?

But I already knew how it would play out. He’d sigh. I’d feel like an idiot. Somehow I’d end up apologizing for noticing shit.

So I swallowed it down.

Lucifer grabbed his jacket off the chair—the same jacket, and slid it on without a second thought, heading for the door.

“That’s it?” I asked before I could stop myself.

He glanced back. “What is?”

“You come in, change, leave, and that’s normal now?”

His face hardened. “I don’t have time for this tonight.”

Then he walked out.

The room went dead quiet.I stared at the empty spot where he’d been standing until the air felt too thin to breathe.

Then I reached for my phone on the nightstand just to have something to do with my hands.

His phone was sitting right there, he’d left it behind. I touched the screen by accident, and

it lit up.

A notification sat right at the top from a number with no name.

Just six words.

Last night was worth the risk.

I stopped breathing.

Then, before I could make myself look away, a second message popped up.

Same number.

Same thread.

She suspects something.