Pursuing My Rejected Luna by Cara Anderson novel Chapter 40

Chapter 40

Skye

Jaxon appears at my elbow, his hand settling possessively on my lower back. “Dinner is about to be served. Shall we?”

I’m seated across from Nicolai at the long formal table. Jaxon is at the head, naturally, with me to his right and Noah to his left. Nicolai is positioned directly in my line of sight with Dimitri beside him.

The placement is strategic. Whether Jaxon planned it to keep an eye on us or to assert dominance by separating us, I can’t tell.

The meal begins. Multiple courses are served, each more elaborate than the last. The pack chef outdid himself, clearly trying to impress our powerful visitors. But I’m well aware it’s Jaxon who’s actually showing off.

I pick at my food, my stomach too unsettled for rich sauces and heavy proteins.

“You’re not eating much,” Jaxon observes quietly. Not concerned-accusatory. Like my lack of appetite is

somehow a reflection on him.

“I’m pacing myself,” I lie. “It’s a lot of courses.”

Across the table, Nicolai’s eyes flick to my barely touched plate, then back to my face. I can see the question there, the concern he can’t voice in present company.

The conversation flows around us-pack politics, territorial agreements, trade routes. Nicolai is smooth, professional, giving away nothing of substance while appearing completely engaged.

He’s good at this. Better than he used to be.

“Luna,” Dimitri says, drawing my attention. “Alpha Woolf mentioned you and he knew each other before. From inter-pack functions?”

“Yes.” I keep my voice steady. “Our fathers’ packs had dealings when we were younger. We met at various summits and gatherings.”

“Skye was always the most interesting person at those events,” Nicolai says, and there’s warmth in his tone that makes Jaxon’s eyes narrow. “She actually paid attention to what was being discussed instead of just networking.”

“Someone had to,” I reply, falling into old patterns despite myself. “The rest of you were too busy posturing.”

His mouth quirks. “Posturing is half of diplomacy.”

“The boring half.”

“The necessary half.

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We’re smiling at each other now, the conversation flowing naturally in a way it hasn’t with anyone else in years. And I realize too late what this looks like.

What it reveals.

Jaxon’s hand tightens on his wine glass. “How often did you two see each other? At these functions?”

“A few times a year,” Nicolai answers smoothly. “Less as we got older and our packs’ interests diverged.”

“But you stayed in touch?”

The question is pointed. Loaded.

“No,” I say before Nicolai can respond. “We didn’t. Life got complicated.”

By which I mean: I got married to a man who resented me, and maintaining friendships outside the pack became impossible.

The tension at the table is thick enough to cut.

Noah, bless him, changes the subject to something about northern trade routes, and the conversation shifts to safer ground.

But I can feel Jaxon watching us for the rest of the meal. Cataloging every exchange, every glance, every moment of easy familiarity that shouldn’t exist between two people who claim they haven’t spoken in

years.

Dessert is being served when Cassandra makes her entrance. I guess one meal without her was too

much to wish for.

She sweeps into the dining room in a soft pink dress that makes her look delicate and feminine, her hair artfully tousled like she just came from putting a child to bed. Which, I suppose, she did.

“I’m so sorry I’m late.” Her voice carries that apologetic warmth she does so well. “Liam had trouble settling down. You know how children are.”

No one at this table knows how children are except her and Jaxon.

The pointed observation isn’t lost on me.

Jaxon makes introductions. “Alpha Woolf, this is Cassandra Winters. She’s staying with us temporarily while her son receives medical treatment from our pack doctor.”

Nicolai’s expression goes ice-cold.

“Your sister,” he says, looking at me.

“Yes.” My voice is steady even though my heart is pounding.

“Your stepbrother is safe,” Nicolai says quietly, not looking at me. “He was released two days ago.”

Relief floods through me even though I already knew. Hearing it from him makes it real.

“Thank you.” My voice is barely a whisper. “I don’t know how-”

“We’ll talk later,” he interrupts softly. “When there aren’t so many eyes watching.”

I nod slightly, understanding, even as my breath catches at his use of my own words.

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From across the room, I feel Jaxon’s gaze lock onto us with laser focus.

We step apart immediately, the professional distance restored.

But the damage is done.

Because something about this man just draws me in.

And “later” can’t come soon enough.

Cara Anderson

Author

Thank you for reading!

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