The Alpha's Unwanted Luna (by Miss L) novel Chapter 261

Chapter 261

“I don’t have to do this often, girl, but when the chance comes, it’s kind of fun. Let’s give him a hand.”

I rise from my seat, peeling off the shirt and shorts I had hastily thrown on earlier. Carefully, I shuffle a few small pieces of furniture aside, making sure nothing gets damaged when the shift happens. My wolf stirs within me, taking over with a sudden urgency—as if signaling that stalling is no longer an option. Without hesitation, she leaps onto the bed, but this time, there’s a softness in her movements I’ve never witnessed before. She approaches Finn cautiously, her eyes scanning his back and sides, assessing which wounds are the deepest and most painful. Then, she begins her work.

The saliva of our wolves carries remarkable healing properties. In emergencies—or situations like Finn’s—we can mend each other’s injuries. The healing effect intensifies when the mate is the one administering it.

Still, it’s hard to wrap my head around the fact that Finn is supposed to be my mate. The thought had blindsided me completely. As my wolf carefully tends to his wounds with slow, deliberate precision, my mind drifts back to six months ago.

Ryker had taken Kennedy home once everything settled down. That girl never ceases to amaze me—taking down an enemy wolf while still in her human form, relying solely on human abilities, is nothing short of incredible. Meanwhile, Danny and I have been rounding up the rogues who fought alongside us, tallying up the casualties to report back to Ryker. Josh approached Danny, pulling him aside, leaving Finn to fill me in on the loyalists among his rogues.

The moment Finn stepped just a foot away, the air between us crackled with an almost tangible electricity. It felt like a current pulsing with raw energy. Then he murmured, almost choking on the word, “Mate?”—a question laced with confusion, as if his wolf was forcing the admission out.

All I could manage was a flat, “No,” before I fled like a coward.

Since then, he’s tried twice to bring up the subject, but after those attempts, silence. Even the mate pull lingers, but it’s faint—muted and muffled, as if someone turned down the volume on it. I do my best to keep my distance, and the only times I touch him are during training sessions, when contact is unavoidable. For six months, he’s been relentlessly irritating, almost as if determined to keep my disdain firmly rooted.

“He’s starting to heal better now, but he needs you close,” my wolf insists.

“Not those,” she snaps. “As little as possible. He needs as much skin contact as you can manage.”

“No way am I lying naked in bed with him! You’ve officially lost it!” I protest.

“I’m not going to force you to cross that line. Even I have boundaries. But he needs as much contact as you can give.”

Well, at least she still has some sense of decency. I grab my shorts and find a tank top, then, for the first time in what feels like forever, I climb into bed beside a man.