The Alpha's Luna: Burn Her Love to Ashes

"Iris is back. She'll be moving in here immediately."

Evelyn Severa is a Luna. She feels worthless when her Alpha, Callum Wolffang, enters their marital home with Iris Howley, his true love.

Her wolf growls, and fury burns within her.

"I thought your contributions would make him see you." Callum's mother, Kiera Beowulf, sighs helplessly.

Evelyn gave up her future as a wolf doctor to marry Callum and become his Luna. At the time, he was crippled and temperamental. For the past five years, she hasn't stopped treating him and caring for him. Now, it seems everything she's done is meaningless.

She held onto a sliver of hope a few months ago, but she now sees sense—she'll never be able to save a person who refuses to turn back to look at her.

Their contract is about to expire, and Callum has gotten what he wants.

Evelyn severed the mate bond and disappeared without a trace.

Callum was the one who broke it first.

So why is he the one losing his mind now, desperate to get her back?

####CHAPTER-NAME:

Evelyn Severa's POV:

At 6:00 p.m., I laid out six different dinner dishes on the long stone table, each seasoned with Callum Wolffang's favorite hint of vanilla.

At 7:00 p.m., I lit a vanilla-scented candle in Callum’s room, letting the calming fragrance seep into the walls, soothing his restless wolf. I checked the bathwater, ensuring it remained at exactly 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit—the perfect temperature for a werewolf to relax.

At 8:00 p.m., I placed his favorite boots by the door and hung his outdoor cape beside them, brushing my fingers briefly over the worn fabric.

At 9:00 p.m., I changed into the black lace outfit he had picked for me.

The doors blew open, carrying with them a rush of icy wind and the sharp, metallic scent of blood.

Callum, my Alpha, stepped in. His coat was stained with blood, his entire being humming with violence barely leashed beneath his skin.

But the moment his gaze fell on me, something shifted. The fury in his expression eased—replaced by a hunger that made the air between us crackle.

I walked to him, taking his heavy cloak from his shoulders and hanging it by the fire without a word.

"Shower or dinner?" I asked softly.

"Shower," he said, his voice rougher than usual, his eyes not leaving me this time.

I sat at the edge of the bathtub, reaching for the cloth to scrub his back.

Before I could even touch him, Callum turned, catching my wrist firmly yet gently, pulling me closer until I was standing between his knees.

His hands found my waist, sliding under the lace with possessive slowness.

He pressed his forehead against my stomach for a brief, startling moment—something so raw it made my throat tighten.

Then, without a word, he lifted me onto his lap, letting the bathwater soak my thighs. His mouth traced a searing line along the skin just above the lace.

"You have