His Lost Luna

Julian’s POV

The burn of the amber liquid does nothing to soothe the hollow ache carved into my ribs. I swirl the scotch in my crystal glass, watching the lights of the city come to life as the sun slowly dips beyond the horizon.

Six years.

Two thousand, one hundred, and ninety days of suffocating in her absence. To the human world, Julian Vance is a tech tycoon presiding over a multi-billion-dollar empire. To the supernatural community, I am a broken Alpha. A king ruling over a ghost kingdom.

“Take a chosen mate, Julian,” the council elders had sneered at last week’s summit, their voices dripping with calculated pity. “The pack needs a Luna. Emma is dead. Or worse, she ran.”

My grip tightens on the glass until the crystal groans under my strength.

She didn’t run. I know what fear smells like. Betrayal. Love. The morning she vanished, her side of the bed still smelled like lavender and sweet vanilla. She hadn’t packed a bag. She hadn’t cleared her bank accounts. She had just stepped out into the crisp autumn air to pick up groceries and dissolved into the city streets.

She is alive. My wolf rumbles deep in my chest, a dark, restless beast that has done little but pace the cage of my ribs for over half a decade.

We can still feel her, our fated mate. The bond isn’t a clean, snapping thread; it’s a physical tether hooked directly into my soul. Right now, it’s a faint, agonizing vibration. A phantom limb that twitches in the dark. It tells me she’s breathing. It tells me her heart is beating. But it’s muffled, buried beneath a veil I cannot pierce.

Before her disappearance we had five years of absolute bliss. She had just walked across the stage to accept her bachelor’s degree, her radiant smile throwing my entire world into sharp focus. I was days away from succeeding my father as both Alpha and the head of VanceCorp. Everything was falling perfectly into place.

And then she was gone.

A sharp knock cracks through the quiet room, dragging me from the past.

“Come,” I command, my inner wolf pacing restlessly at the intrusion.

Damon, my executive assistant, steps just inside the door. “It’s almost eight, sire.”

I swear under my breath. The damn gala. Another night of parade-mating and fake smiles. “Have the car out front in fifteen minutes.”

He nods, closing the door behind him. I down the last of the scotch, leaving the glass next to the half-empty bottle. In the private bathroom, I hit the light switch and tap a concealed panel in the wall to reveal my closet. Pulling on the black-tie attire, I try to remember the last time I felt anything close to enjoyment at one of these things.

I step off the elevator just as the car is arriving in front of the building. I nod to the staff in the lobby as I pass, wishing them a pleasant evening. “It will undoubtably be more entertaining than mine,” I mutter, climbing into the back seat.

The steps leading up to the entrance of the natural history museum are packed with the cities’ crème de la crème – business magnates, local celebrities, old money, and ambitious newcomers.

Cameras flash incessantly as I climb the carpeted stairs, a practiced air of nonchalance in my gait.

The first hour disappears into polite conversation about city and pack politics. The second hour is spent dodging would-be matchmakers attempting to place their daughters in my path.

Emma loved planning the gala. She’d been the consummate hostess, her tinkling laughter filling the museum’s marble halls. Now it was organized by committee, polished but sterile, stripped of the warmth and personality she’d once given it.

VanceCorp employees were always invited, though few beyond the C-suite ever attended. Which was why I always found it odd that Erik Dunne – a middle manager in R&D – never seemed to miss one. He spotted me before I managed to slip into one of the exhibits.

“Dammit.” I swore under my breath, taking a long pull of scotch to fortify myself. My wolf, Axel, had hated Erik Dunne from the day he’d been hired. But he was just a human, no real threat to me or the pack.

“Mr. Vance,” he came ambling up, a wide smile that didn’t reach his eyes plastered on his smug face.

“Dunne,” I said.

“Fantastic party, as always sir,” he raised his glass in salute. His wedding ring caught the light, flashing. He pulled out his phone as a text notification lit the screen. His lock screen displayed a dark-haired woman with her arms wrapped around a gap-toothed little boy. He took my passing glance as interest. “That’s Cody, he just turned six this spring.”

“Mm-hmm,” Axel was snarling and pushing against me, it was getting harder to maintain my composure. The man could steer any topic back to himself within thirty seconds.

Erik’s smile never faltered. I clapped him on the shoulder a little harder than I needed to, “If you’ll excuse me, Erik. I think I’d like some air.”

I walked away without giving him an opportunity to respond and straight out the front doors.

Emma’s POV

I needed a job after graduation, especially when I found out I was pregnant by my deadbeat boyfriend. The café had been hiring, it was walking distance to my apartment, but it was already failing. When the owners, a lovely older couple who’d owned the building for years, found out that my degree had been in business management, they began leaning on me to rescue the flagging business.

It was in the perfect location, right in the heart of downtown, but everything about it was dated. They were still brewing coffee the same way they’d done for thirty years. I convinced them they needed a complete overhaul.

I spent months renovating; painting and polishing, eating takeout on overturned milk crates while waiting on furniture to arrive. Cody took his first steps in the café right after it re-opened, teetering across the tile floor.

Business picked up immediately, stronger than it had ever been.

Then… his health began to fail and they spent less and less time at the café. When he passed, she named me partner. She would still come into the shop once a week to “check on things”, but everyone could see how lost she became with him.

One morning, she simply didn’t wake up.

She’d left me the café.

Cody was three and didn’t understand where nana and pop-pop went, by four he’d all but forgotten them.

Three years later and I still say good morning to their photograph every day. Sometimes when I’m opening alone, I’ll have full conversations with them. Today had been one of those days.

By seven fifteen the coffee shop was packed, every table occupied and a line out the door. We were slammed until around nine-thirty, but business always picked up again after a couple of hours. It gave my staff and me time to breathe, restock and make notes about inventory.

Erik, one of my die-hard regulars, arrived right at twelve-thirty for lunch in an exceptionally good mood.

“Hey, Emma,” he called out, grabbing a seat at his regular table.

“Hey,” I turned, finishing up an espresso. “The usual?”

“You know me so well.”

“How was the gala? See anyone famous?” I set a mug down in front of him and a plated sandwich - tuna salad on wheat bread. I had my own coffee, and I joined him for a few minutes to get off my feet.

“It was great. Good food, free drinks,” he took a bite, keeping his eyes trained on me. “I ran into Mr. Vance.”

“Oh?” I took a sip of coffee, “He seems like such an interesting man, but so sad.”

“Why do you say that?” a sour note crept into his voice. I gave him a quizzical look.

“In photos,” I said, “He just always looks… heartbroken somehow. Is he like that in person?”

“His wife just… disappeared one day.” He relaxed a little. “Apparently he woke up and she was just gone.”

My hand flew to my heart. “Ooh. Do you know what happened?”

“Most think she just ran off and left him. She was probably having an affair.” His tone was light, but there was something else in his eyes I couldn’t quite grasp. It slipped away before I could put a name to it.

Erik was long gone when I discovered his jacket slung over the back of a chair. I resolved to leave it at the reception desk after work, since we would go that way anyway.

The rest of my afternoon was the same routine. Finishing the lunch rush, restocking displays, cleaning machines and counters, the usual.

Cody was on summer break and his babysitter, Josey, conveniently lived just a couple blocks away. They came into the café most afternoons as we were closing up. One of the baristas would “sneak” my son a scone or Danish and make a cup of coffee or matcha latte for Josey. We’d chat about their day or plans for the next.

After I locked up and we said goodbye to Josey, I slung Erik’s jacket over my arm and we began our walk to the parking garage at VanceCorp. It had a small public section that gave me a sense of security I didn’t get parking on the street or an open lot.

Traffic was beginning to build up as it got closer to the end of the business day. When we got to the corner the sign had just flashed to “walk”.

Everything happened in slow motion. Cody ran ahead of me just enough to be out of reach. The only thing I heard was the screeching of tires. I screamed his name as the car came barreling toward my baby. Someone across the street grabbed him just in time, whipping him onto the sidewalk with impossible speed.

I raced across and knelt down, gathering him in my arms, frantically checking him over. He was completely unhurt, staring up at the man who’d just saved his life.

Still clutching Cody, I finally looked up at the man who had saved him. My breath hitched as a pair of amber eyes met mine.

“Mr. Vance!”

Something unreadable flashed across his face and he glanced back down at Cody.My son just smiled at him. I was still trying not to wither into hysterics.

“Are you alright?” His voice was deep, crashing over me like a wave. My shoulders loosened just a little, while my heart still pounded in my chest.

“Edgar likes you.” Cody replied. Mr. Vance looked back at me.

“His imaginary friend,” I gently squeezed Cody’s shoulder, “Cody, Thank Mr. Vance, please.”

“Thank you, Mr. Vance,” he said, lisping through his missing front teeth.

“I can’t thank you enough, sir.”

“Of course,” he shook himself, “Mrs…?”

“Emma, just Emma.”

He looked at the jacket on my arm, a dark cloud falling across his features.

“It belongs to one of my regulars, Erik Dunne. He works in your building.”

He cleared his throat.

“Right, just be more careful crossing the street next time Cody.” He ruffled my son’s hair. I held my breath as he stood there for another moment, looking down.

He turned abruptly and disappeared through the lobby doors.