My Rejected Alpha Wants Me as His Secret Luna

The tablet screen glared up at me, the stark white light illuminating the names that had haunted my nightmares for five long years.

*Alpha Dereck. Luna Isabelle. Silver River Pack.*

My hand hovered over the digital file, a tremor starting in my fingertips. I clenched my fist immediately, digging my nails into my palm until the sharp sting grounded me. I was not that girl anymore. I was not the wolfless, pathetic little thing that Dereck had thrown away like garbage. I was Katherine, the most sought-after fertility Healer in the state, and I had a waiting list three months long.

I stood up and walked to the stainless steel counter, focusing on the rhythmic *clink, clink, clink* of arranging my silver instruments. Speculum. Forceps. Ultrasound wand. Each tool was cold, precise, and unfeeling. Just like I needed to be.

"Dr. Katherine? They're here," my receptionist’s voice crackled over the intercom, sounding breathless. Alpha auras usually had that effect on humans, even weak Alphas like Dereck.

"Send them in," I replied, my voice steady.

The heavy oak door swung open, and the air in my pristine clinic shifted instantly. First, it was the scent. Pine and rain—Dereck’s scent. It hit me like a physical blow to the chest, awakening the dormant wolf inside me. She didn’t whimper this time; she growled, a low, rumbling vibration in my chest that only I could feel. But then came the second scent, choking and cloying—synthetic roses and expensive perfume, trying desperately to mask the sour tang of insecurity.

Isabelle.

I turned slowly, smoothing the front of my white lab coat.

Dereck froze in the doorway. His eyes, the color of stormy seas, widened as they swept over me. I knew what he was expecting: the skinny, hunch-shouldered girl he had rejected. Instead, he was looking at a woman who stood tall, her hair glossy and full, her skin glowing with the subtle, hum of a powerful aura. I saw his nostrils flare, inhaling deeply. He could smell it—I wasn't wolfless. Not anymore.

"Katherine?" he breathed, the name falling from his lips like a prayer.

Isabelle’s head snapped toward him, her eyes narrowing into slits. She hooked her arm aggressively through his, her claws digging into his bicep hard enough to draw blood. She tilted her head, deliberately exposing the mating mark on her neck—a jagged, ugly scar that Dereck had left there five years ago.

"It’s *Doctor* now, isn't it?" Isabelle sneered, though her voice wavered slightly as she took in the luxury of my office. "I suppose it’s good you found a service job that suits you, sister. Cleaning up after real wolves."

"It is a medical practice, Luna Isabelle," I said, my tone cool and devoid of emotion. I gestured to the exam table. "And I charge a premium for my 'service.' Please, lie down. We don't have much time."

Isabelle huffed, releasing Dereck to clamber onto the table. Dereck remained standing near the door, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. He looked tired. The lines around his eyes were deep, and the gray in his hair was premature for a werewolf. The Goddess hadn't been kind to him.

I snapped on a pair of latex gloves and moved to the table. "Lift your shirt."

Isabelle obeyed, exposing her flat, pale stomach. As I applied the cooling gel, my hand brushed against Dereck’s arm where he was leaning against the table for support.

*Zap.*

A spark of electricity, hot and undeniable, shot through my fingers and up my arm. The Mate Bond. It was tattered and rejected, but it was still there, lurking in the shadows.

Dereck gasped, jerking his hand back as if burned. "Katherine, did you feel—"

"Quiet, please," I interrupted sharply, picking up the ultrasound wand. "I need to concentrate."

I pressed the wand against Isabelle’s skin, staring at the monitor. The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the hum of the machine. On the screen, the image was clear. Physically, her uterus was intact. There were no cysts, no scarring from injuries.

But to a Healer’s sight, the image told a different story. The energy flow was stagnant. Dead.

I moved the wand, checking the ovaries. Dark. lifeless.

I wiped the gel from her stomach and stripped off my gloves, tossing them into the biohazard bin with a definitive *thud*.

"Well?" Isabelle demanded, sitting up and pulling her shirt down. "Give me the fertility potion. Or is it a spell? Whatever it is you do."

I picked up my tablet and typed a few notes before looking her dead in the eye. "There is no potion for this, Isabelle."

"What do you mean?" Dereck stepped forward, his alpha tone bleeding into his voice. "Fix her."

"I cannot fix what the Moon Goddess has sealed," I said calmly.

The color drained from Isabelle’s face.

"Your wolf," I continued, looking at my stepsister with clinical detachment, "is constitutionally too weak to carry an Alpha heir. The strain of an Alpha pup would kill you within the first trimester. Your body knows this. It is rejecting conception to save your life."

It was the ultimate insult in our world. To be a Luna was to be the mother of the pack. To be told she was too weak—weaker than the sister she had tormented for years—was a death sentence to her ego.

"You're lying!" Isabelle shrieked, sliding off the table. "You're lying because you're jealous! You want him back! You're cursing me!"

"I am diagnosing you," I corrected, my voice hard. I turned my gaze to Dereck. He wasn't looking at Isabelle. He was staring at me, horror dawning on his face as the weight of his past choices crashed down on him. He had rejected his true mate for strength, only to bind himself to a weakness that would end his bloodline.

"The Goddess doesn't make mistakes, Alpha Dereck," I said softly, twisting the knife. "But wolves certainly do."