Reborn, My Mate Finally Found I Was His True Love

I was reborn.

At the grandous moonlight hall.

I knelt on the ground and beads fell down.

"Leah."

"Both Quinn and you have became adult. I wanted to mate you with Shawn Yates, a future alpha. As to Quinn, I plan to mate her with General Jason Hayes, who defends the border?"

"Luna Diana, you're so kind but I can't accept that."

She put her teacup down.

"Why? Don't you love Shawn anymore?"

My fingers curled slightly. "I shouldn't have mistaken obsession for love."

"I learned Shawn and Quinn are in love. I'll go to the borderland and mate with Jason."

Diana slammed the table hardly. "Leah, you must be mad!"

"The borderland's conditions are harsh. If Jason falls in battle, the you will be."

She suddenly stopped and said to me gently.

"The wound you got for shielding me years ago made you fragile. Here in Belmor Town, I can look after you."

In my last life, Diana treated me like her own pup, yet she asked me to break with Shawn in the end.

"Diana, I have made up my mind." I bowed again.

"Please."

After a long silence, she sighed.

"Fine. As you wish. I'll issue the decree today. In half a moon, you and Quinn will both be bounded. Quinn would be bound to Shawn and you to general on the borderland. But if things go wrong out there, tell me. I'll have your back."

"Thank you, Diana."

I step out of the hall, clutching the decree, a bitter smile as tears burn my eyes.

"Shawn, this time, I'm finally giving you what you want."

The memories of my former life surge back.

I was fourteen when I first saw Shawn at the spring hunt; beneath a tree he stood, looking like a wolf lifted from a fairy tale. A single glance and I was lost forever.

Not long after, I pulled Diana, Shawn's aunt away from an assassin's blade just beyond the pack boundary.

Her gratitude ran deep; she folded me into the family, and, once she saw how I looked at Shawn, she engineered the bond, matching me to him and Quinn to Jason.

At the binding ceremony, I stood with my heart racing, expecting Shawn to lift my veil, yet he refused even the ritual cup of wine. 'Get some rest,' he murmured, then turned and left.

For three years I simmered soups and carried them to his study, only to watch them come back untouched.

One winter night, with my knees throbbing from old injuries, I stitched him a cloak, and he shrugged it off and handed it to a servant.

Three winters I spent stirring pots, sending hot soup to his desk; every bowl returned full. Later, when frost glazed the windows, I cut and sewed him a cloak, my knees burning from past wounds, he flicked it toward a footman without a word.

The worst came when word arrived from the borderland: Quinn had passed. Shawn sat in his study