Pursuing My Rejected Luna by Cara Anderson novel Chapter 193

Chapter 193

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I’m so tired. It’s 2 AM so it makes total sense that I should be tired. What doesn’t make sense is why I’m wide

awake..

Benji is asleep. Nicolai is asleep. Jaxon is in the west wing, presumably asleep. I, on the other hand, am lying Here on my back, staring at the ceiling and doing math in my head.

It’s been eleven months since Benji was born. Wolves go into heat every three months; roughly-sometimes delayed after pregnancy, sometimes six months, occasionally longer under extenuating circumstances.

But eleven months? That’s rare. Rare enough that I’m almost certain something must be wrong.

I’ve been telling myself it’s stress. I’ve been telling myself it’s the emotional toll, the physical recovery, the new bonds, the adjustment. I’ve been telling myself a lot of things and the math at 2 AM does not care about any of them.

The fact of the matter is heat is not optional for wolves. It’s a biological imperative-the body’s recognition of a female wolf of childbearing years, a means of ensuring the continuation of our species.

Sure, heats can be spotty for unmated females, periodically triggered by prolonged exposure to viable male partners. But once a mating bond is in play, they’re usually like clockwork. I had heats before the pregnancy when I only had one mate. And now I have two.

Two bonds. Twice as many reasons for my biology to sit up and take notice. My body should be tripping over itself to see which mate can get me pregnant first. But… nothing.

So all I’m left with is the raw truth. I should have had heat months ago. I haven’t.

The fact that I haven’t could either be something or maybe nothing. But I need to know which before I say a word

to either of them.

Not because I don’t trust them. Because I’ve watched Nicolai turn every health question into a problem to be solved, and I’ve watched Jaxon turn every uncertainty about me into something to carry-both of them, in their different ways, would immediately make this about what they need to do.

I need information first. Then I can decide what to say. Until then, there’s no sense in worrying them.

For now, I’ll be the only one lying in the dark doing the math and not sleeping.

After a long sleepless night and almost falling asleep in my oatmeal this morning, I decide I need answers sooner than later. I call Dr. Chernov to make an appointment while Nicolai is in his first meeting of the day and Jaxon is in the nursery with Benji.

Dr. Chernov offers to come to the estate but I insist on being seen at his private practice. I want to go to his actual office where I can sit in a waiting room that doesn’t contain anyone who works for Nicolai or owes allegiance to either of my mates.

The next part of my plan, I don’t love. But I tell myself lying to my mates is a necessary evil in this case. And it’s only temporary.

I tell Nicolai I’m going to Dimitri’s administrative meeting. I tell Jaxon I’m taking Benji to the park. I do neither. Instead, I drive to Dr. Chernov’s office and sit in the waiting room with a magazine I don’t read and the controlled calm of someone who has learned to manage their own anxiety in public.

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He sees me within twenty minutes. The minute the door closes behind him, I word vomit all my fears without

aking a single breath. I tell him about the timeline, the two bonds, and the glaring absence of even a single sign okan impending heat. All of which he already knows about-he’s been my doctor through all of it. He listens the way he always does, completely and without interrupting, with the focused attention that I’ve come to trust.

Then he examines me. Thorough. Unhurried. The kind of examination that proves he’s taking all my concerns seriously without showing any signs of alarm.

Next he runs blood work and instead of offering to call with the results, he takes one look at my face and says I can wait. The results take forty minutes. I spend them on my phone pretending to answer emails and actually answering none of them.

When Dr. Chernov comes back in, my hands tremble so hard I nearly drop my phone. He sits across from me with the particular manner of someone who has delivered uncertain news many times and has learned how to hold the space between not great news and nothing to worry about.

“Everything looks normal,” he says cheerfully, as if that pronouncement alone should assuage all my fears.

I exhale before I know I’m doing it.

“Your hormone levels are within range. Reproductive function appears unaffected.” He folds his hands. “What I think you’re experiencing is heat suppression under prolonged extreme stress. It’s documented. It’s not common, but it’s not unheard of either.”

“But two bonds-”

“Two bonds formed in close succession, on top of a pregnancy, a delivery, a divorce, a custody dispute, a kidnapping attempt, a bond severing ceremony, a mating ceremony, and an additional bond formation.” He looks at me steadily. “Your body has been through more in the last eighteen months than most wolves experience in a decade. It makes sense that it’s been conserving resources.” He pauses to let his point sink in. “Cut yourself some slack, Skye. I’m not concerned. Are you?”

I sit with the question. Am I?

“I don’t know,” I say honestly.

“That’s a fair answer,” he says. “Keep monitoring. When the heat comes-and it will-call me immediately, particularly given the circumstances of your situation.” He pauses delicately. “So that appropriate arrangements can be made if you’re not comfortable with your… circumstances.”

Appropriate arrangements. My circumstances. In other words, two bonded mates and a heat that will only be satisfied by both of them. Something neither of my men seems ready for. Nor are they likely to be in the foreseeable future.

“I will,” I promise. “Thank you.”

But as I leave his office, I can’t help but think, maybe I shouldn’t be so worried that my heat is late after all.

Maybe I’d be better off praying it never does.

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