Page 87 of King Luna

“Hey, I have a question.” Clarice stands, her hands bumping our spines as she leans on our chairs and causing poor Annika to jump.

I glance between the two Lunas, unsure by their frigid expressions if gossiping is yet another unsavory tradition at the Summit. “Oh, um... Okay. I’m a bit busy right now.”

Clarice lets out a sharp laugh. “It’ll be quick. And don’t take this the wrong way, but—” She leans in, her wavy brown hair brushing my shoulder as she lowers her voice to a sharp point. “What are you, exactly?”

Heat blasts my cheeks as I rub my belly.

I know I shouldn’t be embarrassed of myself since there’s nothing wrong with being a hybrid, but she said that as though I smell like something is seriously wrong with me.

Noah thrashes the fifth competitor to the ground a little too hard, the poor wolf letting out a yipe.

Fuck. He must sense I'm upset.

But I'm angry too. If this is how wolves plan to treat our pup, I better set some boundaries before they're born.

Flipping my hair over my shoulder to look Clarice in the eyes, I straighten my back. “What am I, Luna? I’m my pack's first hybrid Luna. And possibly your future Queen, by the looks of it. Which could make me the first hybrid Queen Luna.”

Clarice blinks a few times, gaping. Then she places a hand on her sternum, letting out an exasperated breath. “Why, I never. Calling yourself the Queen, right in front of our current Queen Luna too?”

Annika leans into me, keeping her volume loud enough for Clarice to hear. “Ignore her. Everyone who truly cares about me knows I don't care about titles. You and I both know it could’ve been possible for either of our mates to be King last year—just like many years before it.”

Clarice scoffs, crossing her arms. She straightens behind us, busying her focus with the crowd, and I hope that’s the end of her tirade.

The three of us flinch as Noah slams another Alpha into the grass.

“A hybrid Luna, huh?” Clarice mutters.

I finally return her stare, my eyes boring into hers with no mercy left inside me. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Clarice laughs, attempting to hide the annoyance I can smell. “Not at all! I'm just relieved to finally understand why you smell like that.”

My belly aches beneath my palm. No matter how confident I am, my heart tears a little for our baby. Are they going to have to hear this their whole life? All because I'm their mom?

Guilt burns throughout my chest cavity. In the distance, Noah lets out a vicious snarl.

When Waimarie shows up a second later, her forehead contorts her washed-out skin—losing its usual warmth after what I assume has been an afternoon of illness. I open my mouth to ask about how dreadful she must feel, but I’m startled speechless by her fury, her eyes latching onto Clarice before she even acknowledges us. “Oi, you— What’s all this about?”

Clarice laughs, opening her mouth to speak.

But Annika whips her head around. “Are you done now? I think you are.”

Clarice reddens. Jabbing a finger at me, she grits her teeth. “She didn't even answer my question; she just dodged it with another shocking truth about how much the West Coast has devolved. I meant whatareyou—an Omega? Alpha? Beta? No offense, but I’m not used to wolves like you being so... ambiguous.”

As Clarice’s eyes sweep down me, her lip curling higher in disgust, my cheeks blaze hotter by the second. Annika’s hand tightens around mine, and Waimarie presses against the back of my chair to join her in defending me, but it doesn’t stop my eyes from watering.

And it’s clear this bigoted Luna plans to double down. “There’s a lot of talk around, wondering what’s different about Greenfield. Alpha Noah is... You know.Shy. Especially for an ‘Alpha.’” Clarice laughs, stoking a fire in my gut. “Are you sure he really has a ballsack?”

Annika shrinks beside me as I revert from shame to absolute rage. I don’t know why our wolf sexes are so ambiguous either,but I don’t think that means something is wrong with us. Especially not my sweet Noah.

My fangs flash without my permission. Annika dives behind my back, scrambling past our row’s chairs to huddle into Waimarie’s side, and Clarice whines.

“Do I need to sit you down with my four-year-old preschoolers, or can you find it in yourself to remember what’s appropriate to ask strangers?”

My musk attracts a swarm of every Alpha in the vicinity, already heated and volatile—including Logan Brightville, heading straight for me to protect his mate.

But my wolf is still fuming. Instead of letting it go, I growl at Logan. “Stay back!”

Logan bursts into a sprint. His bustling power charging for me shoots defensive pheromones from my neck.

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