20 Years His Luna, Branded a Rogue for a Vanilla Omega

"The Alpha is late," Elder Thorne grumbled. He crossed his thick arms over his chest, glaring at the forest path.

"Kael is never late for the Full Moon Festival," I replied.

I stood perfectly still at the center of the stone altar. The heavy silver chalice rested securely in my hands. Beside me, sitting on a dark velvet pillow, was the ancestral Luna diadem. It was a crown of woven silver branches, ancient and heavy with the history of our pack.

"He knows the pack requires the blessing before midnight," Thorne insisted.

"Have a little faith, Thorne," I said. "He leads the patrol. Sometimes the borders require extra attention."

"The borders have been quiet for weeks."

"Then he is preparing himself."

A low murmur rippled through the gathered crowd. I lifted my chin, searching the sea of expectant faces. The bonfire cracked violently, shooting bright orange sparks into the black sky.

"There," a young warrior pointed toward the tree line. "He's coming."

I smiled. I adjusted my grip on the chalice, ready to step forward and greet my mate.

Then the scent hit me.

It wasn't the sharp pine and rain of my husband. It was vanilla. Cloying, sweet, overpowering vanilla.

"What is that smell?" Thorne demanded, his nose wrinkling in confusion.

"I don't know," I answered.

The crowd parted. Kael stepped into the ring of firelight.

He did not look at me. His gaze remained fixed on the altar, his expression entirely unreadable.

"Kael," I called out.

He didn't answer.

He tugged his right arm forward. A young woman stepped out from behind his broad frame. She was small, fragile-looking, and radiated the scent of a young Omega.

Kael's large hand was wrapped tightly around hers.

"Who is this?" Thorne shouted over the rising whispers of the pack.

"Silence," Kael commanded.

The clearing fell dead quiet.

I stepped down from the altar, carrying the chalice with me. "Kael. Explain this."

"There is nothing to explain," he stated plainly. "This is Lyra."

"Why are you holding her hand?"

Lyra shrank back, pressing her shoulder against Kael's chest. "I told you she would be angry, Alpha."

"Do not fear her," Kael told the girl. He finally met my eyes. "Lyra is my chosen."

The chalice slipped a fraction in my grip. "Your chosen? We have been mated for twenty years."

"And for twenty years, the pack has stagnated," Kael countered. "We need new blood. We need a future."

"I gave you a future!" I yelled. "I gave you an heir!"

"You gave us one son," an unfamiliar voice rang out from the back.

The crowd shifted again. Jace pushed his way to the front. My eighteen-year-old boy, the pride of my life, marched into the firelight.

"Jace," I breathed out, relief flooding my chest. "Talk to your father. Tell him this is a mistake."

Jace stopped beside Kael. He did not look at me. Instead, he turned his attention to the Omega.

"Are you cold, Lyra?" Jace asked.

My jaw dropped.