Luna Rejects Cheating Mate

I was supposed to be focusing on the quarterly pack alliance reports, but my mind kept drifting to Whiskers. Three days away from home was the longest I'd been separated from my cat since Lane and I had gotten him last year.

"Just check on him quickly," I murmured to myself, reaching for my phone on the hotel nightstand.

The smart pet feeder app opened with a soft chime. I'd installed the camera primarily to make sure Whiskers was eating regularly when we were both busy with pack duties. Now it served as my connection to home while I was away on Bennett Pack business.

"Come on, kitty," I whispered, watching the screen as the feeder automatically dispensed his dinner. "Show mama you're—"

My words died in my throat.

A hand appeared on screen—not mine, not Lane's. Slender fingers with pale pink nails reached for Whiskers' bowl, moving it slightly to adjust its position.

"Such a picky eater," a feminine voice cooed. "Just like always."

Whiskers meowed in response, his tail swishing in that particular way he did when he wanted attention.

"Here you go, baby," the voice continued. "Your favorite tuna treats."

I froze, my finger hovering over the screen. Whiskers never responded to strangers. He was notoriously standoffish with anyone except Lane and me. Yet here he was, rubbing against this woman's leg, purring audibly through the camera's microphone.

"Who are you?" I whispered, though I knew she couldn't hear me.

The camera caught her profile as she bent down to scratch behind Whiskers' ears. Young, pretty—early twenties at most. Her dark hair fell in waves past her shoulders as she made kissy sounds at my cat.

"Whiskers, you little flirt," she laughed. "Lane said you'd warm up to me eventually."

Lane.

My mate had mentioned this woman? I racked my brain but couldn't recall any mention of someone new in our lives.

I watched in growing horror as she moved confidently through my kitchen, opening cabinet doors as if she owned the place. She retrieved Whiskers' toy mouse from the drawer where we kept his favorites.

"Where's your favorite spot, kitty?" she asked, tossing the toy across the floor. "Is it still under the couch?"

Whiskers darted after the toy, and she laughed again. "Such a silly boy."

My Luna instincts flared to life. This wasn't just a visitor. This woman moved through my home with the comfortable familiarity of someone who had been there multiple times before.

"I need to see more," I muttered, switching to the security camera app that monitored our entire house.

She appeared in the living room now, settling onto our couch—my reading spot—with Whiskers curled in her lap. She wore one of Lane's old t-shirts and nothing else, the hem riding up dangerously high as she crossed her legs.

"Such a good boy," she murmured, stroking Whiskers' fur. "We're going to have so much fun together when Lane and I—"

I couldn't listen anymore. My blood ran cold as the implications