Rejected Luna Returns with Secret Twins (Lysandra) novel Chapter 71

Rejected Luna Returns with Secret Twins

Chapter 71

While waiting for their report, I paced my office, a silver dagger spinning between my fingers–an old habit from my training days. Each rotation of the blade matched my cycling thoughts.

Why was I so fucking angry? We’d been divorced for five years. She was free to fuck whoever she wanted. So why did the thought of her with another Alpha make me want to rip someone apart?

Alpha jealousy, I decided. Nothing more. The primitive part of my brain that couldn’t accept another Alpha encroaching on what had once been mine. It wasn’t about her specifically–just wounded Alpha pride.

The phone rang, interrupting my rationalization.

“Alpha, we have information,” my head of intelligence reported. “Moonshade Pack formed an alliance with the Northern Pack several months ago. As a gesture of goodwill, the Northern Alpha presented Alpha Alaric with a gift of his choosing.”

“Let me guess,” I cut in, the pieces clicking into place. “Lunaris Essence.”

“Exactly, sir. The Northern Pack has close ties to Dr. Frostwhisper. Alpha Alaric requested the treatment as his diplomatic gift.”

I nodded, though no one could see me. “Anything else?”

“Yes, sir. Our sources indicate the relationship between Alpha Alaric and Lysandra appears unusually close. Some pack members refer to them as family.”

Family. The word echoed strangely in my mind.

“Continue monitoring.”

After ending the call, I stood at the floor–to–ceiling windows of my penthouse. Moonlight poured in, stretching my shadow across the floor like a predator waiting to pounce.

I drained my glass, the amber liquid/burning my throat but failing to extinguish the fire within. Images from the security footage and photos cycled through my mind–Lysandra bringing Alpha Alaric into her hotel room, that relaxed smile I’d never seen before, her delicate hand resting in the

crook of his arm.

“Fuck!” I hurled the empty glass at the wall, glass shards exploding outward.

Anger and betrayal coiled like vipers around my heart, but what I hated most was the feeling I refused to acknowledge–jealousy. Pure, primal, suffocating jealousy.

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I loosened my tie, unbuttoned several shirt buttons, as if that might help me breathe easier. I shrugged off my suit jacket, tossing it carelessly onto the sofa before moving to the bar for another

drink.

“How dare she,” I growled, imagining Lysandra beneath another Alpha. The image made my wolf rage, claws nearly breaking through human skin.

I felt a tightening in my lower abdomen, anger and desire twisting together into a dangerous combination. I closed my eyes, trying to control my breathing, but the darkness only conjured more images of Lysandra–glimpses of her in the hospital hallway, that tight dress outlining her curves, her wet hair clinging to her neck, and that day in the hotel room, her body barely concealed beneath

translucent silk.

I slammed my fist onto the marble bar top, the pain bringing momentary clarity. “Damn it, she’s not

mine anymore.”

But my body betrayed my rationality. That familiar heat spread through my veins, reminding me of nights past, the ways I’d once marked and possessed her.

I headed to the bedroom, determined to purge these chaotic emotions through more extreme

measures.

Pulling open a drawer, I retrieved a small box containing items from our time together–things I should have destroyed after the rejection ceremony. My fingers brushed over a silver silk scarf, one of Lysandra’s favorite accessories, still holding a faint trace of violet perfume.

The Alpha instinct howled within, demanding I find that woman, bring her back, punish her betrayal in the most primal way, then mark her again.

“She betrayed me,” I rasped, fingers unconsciously tightening around the scarf. “Betrayed our vows.”

But another voice whispered in my mind: You pushed her away first. You never gave her a chance.

My body tensed with desire, the front of my pants displaying an obvious bulge. Anger mingled with undeniable want. But unlike that night in the shower, I chose a more brutal approach.

With a low growl, I unbuckled my belt, freeing my already painful erection. I wrapped the scarf around my palm, the faint violet scent stimulating my senses. For a moment, I was back in those deep nights, Lysandra’s soft body writhing beneath me.

“Damn it,” I cursed, my palm beginning to move. I gripped myself tighter, the silk sliding against sensitive skin with each stroke. My thumb circled the head, spreading the moisture that had gathered there, my hips instinctively thrusting forward into my fist.

The scarf’s texture was entirely different from her skin, yet enough to trigger vivid flashbacks–the way Lysandra used to arch beneath me, her nails raking down my back, the soft gasps she made

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when I hit that perfect spot inside her. Those little whimpers that drove me insane.

My breathing turned ragged as 1 increased the pace, muscles tensing throughout my body. Heat spread from my core outward, my skin burning with each stroke.