Pursuing My Rejected Luna by Cara Anderson novel Chapter 47

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Chapter 47

Jaxon

Skye i’s in the kitchen making tea-chamomile, which she never used to drink-and I walk in to grab

something from the fridge. The moment I’m close to her, it hits me.

That change in Skye’s scent I thought I imagined the other night.

Sweeter. Richer. Intoxicating in a way that makes my wolf surge forward with desperate need. What is it? Is she going into heat? I don’t remember her smelling this way before.

I find myself moving closer, drawn to her in ways I don’t understand. She’s standing at the counter with her back to me, and I stop just behind her, close enough to feel her warmth.

She stiffens. “Did you need something?”

“Your scent.” The words come out before I can stop them. “It’s different.”

“We’ve had this conversation.” She doesn’t turn around. “I haven’t changed anything.”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But she does. I can hear it in her voice-the careful neutrality that means she’s hiding something.

“Skye-”

“I’m tired, Jaxon. I’m going to bed.”

She walks away, leaving me standing in the kitchen breathing in the lingering traces of her scent and trying to understand why my wolf is going absolutely feral.

The next morning, I find myself at my grandmother’s cottage.

She’s in her garden, tending to late-season roses, and doesn’t look surprised to see me.

“Jaxon. Tea?”

“No. I need… I need to talk to you about something.”

She sets down her gardening shears and leads me to the small patio. We sit, and for a long moment I

don’t know how to start.

“It’s about Skye,” I finally say.

“I assumed.”

“She’s…” I run a hand through my hair. “She’s pulling away. Keeping secrets. I think she’s planning something, but I don’t know what.”

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“Planning to leave you, you mean.”

The bluntness of it steals my breath. “What?”

“Oh, Jaxon.” Grandma Rose’s expression is sad. “Did you really think she’d stay forever? After everything?

“She’s my mate-”

“And you’ve treated her like an unwanted obligation since the day you married her.” She holds up a hand when I try to protest. “Don’t. I’ve watched it happen. The coldness. The distance. The way you’ve let that woman live in your home while your mate suffers.”

“I was trying to do the right thing-”

“For everyone except Skye.” Grandma Rose leans forward. “Let me ask you something, and I want you to really think about the answer. Do you love her?”

“She’s my mate.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“You’re leaving.”

“I’ll be back in three days.”

But the way she says it-so carefully neutral, like she’s reading from a script-makes me wonder if she’s telling the truth.

“Skye, we need to talk. About us. About-”

“There is no us, Jaxon.” She picks up her suitcase, and the casual way she does it-like this conversation means nothing-makes panic claw at my throat. “There’s you, and there’s me, and there’s the mate bond forcing us to occupy the same space. But there’s no us. There never has been.”

“That’s not true-”

“Isn’t it?” She turns to face me fully, and there’s something in her eyes I’ve never seen before. Not anger. Not hurt. Just… nothing. “You made it very clear from the beginning that you didn’t want this bond. That you didn’t want me. And I spent three years trying to change your mind. But I’m done now. I’m done trying to make you see me as anything more than your duty.”

“Skye-”

“I have to go. My car is waiting.”

She walks past me toward the door, and I catch her arm without thinking.

“Three days,” I say. “You’ll be back in three days?”

She looks at my hand on her arm, then up at my face. “Yes.”

“Promise me.”

Something flickers in her expression-surprise, maybe, or confusion. “Why does it matter?”

“Because…” I don’t know how to finish that sentence. Because I need time to figure out what I want? Because the thought of her leaving fills me with irrational terror? Because three years of taking her for granted has finally caught up with me?

“Three days,” she repeats. “I promise.”

She pulls her arm free gently and walks out the door.

I stand in the empty foyer, listening to her car pull away, and realize with devastating clarity that I might have just let her walk out of my life.