Pursuing My Rejected Luna by Cara Anderson novel Chapter 222

Chapter 222

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The Consort Alpha designation in practice is nothing like I expected. I expected it to feel like a diminishment. The former Alpha of Ironwood, reduced to a secondary role in another man’s house. I’d prepared myself for the grief of that-the loss of something I’d prided myself on for years.

But I haven’t felt that at all.

I have a seat at the table. Not Nicolai’s seat-mine. I’ve been given responsibilities that are mine because I’m suited to them, because my years at Ironwood produced knowledge and relationships and ways of thinking that are useful in the Woolf pack’s governance in ways that Nicolai’s strengths don’t cover. Not because I’m being placated.

The eastern territory intelligence network is mine to manage. I have relationships there that predate his by years, that operate differently, that give the Woolf family reach it didn’t have before.

Security consultation is something else I enjoy. I’ve already helped Mikhail restructure three vulnerabilities in the estate’s systems that the previous setup didn’t catch.

I’m a co-parent in Benji’s daily life in ways that are formal rather than provisional-I’m no longer a guest who has access to my son. I’m his father, with the legal standing that designation should always have carried.

But first and foremost, I’m Skye’s mate. In a way I never was before, regardless of the bond that connected us. Back then, I was too drunk on power and control to ever consider there might be more to life, that holding onto it for dear life made me no more than a coward.

Now, I understand what makes a true Alpha. Having the courage to trust my mate and treating her like a partner rather than a rival. Showing up for her every day, whether she needs someone to listen, to hold her, or just stand beside her, I’m here. And it’s my greatest privilege.

Her relentless teasing, infectious laughter, the love and affection she gives so freely. I may not deserve any of it but fuck if I’ll give it up now that I know what it feels like to have it. Her happiness is all I need in return.

So while Consort Alpha is not the same as being Alpha of my own pack. It’s purpose in service of something worth serving. I spent years at Ironwood with authority but not always with the sense of purpose and fulfillment this life gives me..

It turns out that’s the thing I actually wanted.

And speaking of things I want, breakfast with my family is non-negotiable. Now that life is settling into a routine that includes all three of us going to work for at least some portion of everyday, we’ve committed to starting everyday together. All four of us. It’s time I’ll never take for granted.

Skye is just settling our son into his highchair when I arrive. His little face lights up and he starts chanting my name the moment he sees me. “Dada! Dada! Dada!” He wiggles in his seat excitedly and reaches for me.

Nicolai is across the table reading correspondence, Skye starts making tea. Both of them seemingly engrossed in other things but I can tell by the way their lips turn up at the corners, they’re listening.

“Hey, little man! How’s my boy this morning?” I make conversation with my toddler, fully expecting a coherent

answer.

“Dada,” he says again, and my chest puffs out with pride.

My son knows me. Skye and Nicolai gave that to me. They could have held me to the custody agreement, kept me

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at arms length, an outsider in Benji’s life. Instead, they gave me this precious gift. The chance to be his dad full

1. To have him call me Dada. And it’s everything.

“That’s right,” I grin at him. “That’s me. I’m your dada.” He reaches for the toast on my plate and I let him have it.

Nicolai looks up from his correspondèrice and because he’s Nicolai and stirring the pot is his trademark, he goads me, “He said ‘Ni’ first.”

“I know,” I begrudgingly admit.

“I’m just noting it for the record.” He feigns innocence.

“I’ve been aware you were noting it for several weeks now.” I huff.

“He said mama third, if anyone is keeping track.” Skye pipes in, her dry humor making a timely appearance.

“We’re not keeping track,” Nicolai and I say hurriedly, simultaneously. Because we both know what’s good for us

She raises an eyebrow. “We’re absolutely not keeping track,” I rush to assure her again.

Benji, having secured the toast, and now eating it with satisfaction, looks at me once more.

“Dada,” he says again. Just to confirm.

“Yeah,” I say. “That’s still me.”

And that memory carries me through the rest of the day.

Cara Anderson Author

Thank you for reading!

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