From Rejected Mate to Luna Chapter 179

Julia's POV

The private club was hidden in plain sight—a nondescript stone building in the heart of Paris that gave no hint of the luxury within. As we approached the entrance, my hand trembled slightly when the security guard requested our invitation. I'd faced down angry patients and even Nathan's threats, but something about this—my first official appearance as an Alpha's mate at an international gathering—sent anxiety spiraling through me.

Matthew's arm remained firmly around my waist, a steady anchor in unfamiliar waters. Through our mindlink, his reassurance flowed like warm honey.

*You look stunning. Just be yourself. They'll love you as much as I do.*

I doubted that, but gave him a grateful smile as we entered. The interior was breathtaking—crystal chandeliers, marble floors, and elaborate tapestries that probably predated the French Revolution. Guests mingled in small clusters, their laughter and conversation creating a gentle hum beneath classical music from a string quartet.

The fashion differences between packs were subtle but unmistakable. The French wolves favored classic elegance—tailored lines and minimal jewelry that whispered old money and tradition. The few American visitors I spotted looked almost casual by comparison, their attire more colorful and contemporary.

"Monsieur Collins!" A tall, distinguished man with silver temples approached, a stunning woman in midnight blue at his side. "Welcome to Paris."

Matthew straightened, his posture shifting subtly into what I now recognized as his Alpha stance. "Alpha Adrien, thank you for your hospitality." He gestured to me with evident pride. "May I present my mate, Julia White."

The French Alpha bowed slightly, taking my hand. "Enchanted, Madame Collins."

"It's still White, actually," I corrected automatically, then winced. Less than five minutes and I was already committing a faux pas.

To my relief, his mate laughed warmly. "I kept my name too," she confided in perfect English. "I'm Celine. Please don't worry about formalities. We're delighted you could join us."

Celine touched my elbow. "Come, let me introduce you to some of the other Lunas while the men talk business. It's tradition," she added with a conspiratorial smile.

I shot Matthew a panicked look, but he nodded encouragingly. *You'll be fine. I'll be watching.*

As Celine guided me toward a circle of elegant women, I smoothed my emerald gown and tried to look more confident than I felt.

"Ladies, this is Julia White, Matthew Collins' mate," Celine announced.

Six pairs of eyes studied me with varying degrees of interest and assessment.

"How is dear Matthew?" asked an older woman with a diamond collar. "We were all so devastated about Rachel. Such a tragedy."

My stomach clenched at the mention of Matthew's first mate, but I kept my expression neutral.

"He's doing well," I replied simply.

"And how long have you been together?" inquired another, her French accent making the innocent question sound somehow suggestive.

"We marked each other recently," I said, deliberately vague.

A younger Luna with striking auburn hair leaned forward. "My youngest has been having these fevers—the doctor says it's normal, but I'm concerned. You're a nurse, yes? What would you suggest?"

Relief flooded me at the chance to shift to professional ground. I asked several diagnostic questions, then outlined possible causes and treatments, emphasizing when to seek immediate care.

"That's... remarkably specific," she said, blinking in surprise. "Our pack doctor gave me much more general advice."

"Children's fevers can escalate quickly," I explained. "The timing and pattern are crucial for proper diagnosis."

I noticed a subtle shift in the women's postures—a softening, a slight lowering of guards. Suddenly, I was being included in their conversation about pack politics, breeding programs, and inter-pack alliances. I listened more than I spoke, gradually realizing that these women weren't just socializing—they were exchanging vital intelligence, forming coalitions, and subtly influencing pack decisions beneath the veneer of gossip.

"The European packs are considering a shared medical resources program," an elderly Luna whispered to me. "What would Spring Valley's position be on such an initiative?"

Her eyes watched me carefully, and I understood this wasn't idle chatter but a diplomatic probe. The Luna role was far more than a decorative title—these women were power brokers in their own right.

"I think Matthew would be very interested," I replied cautiously. "Especially given recent advances in werewolf-specific treatments."

She nodded, seemingly satisfied, and I felt I'd passed some unspoken test.

I was explaining our pack's approach to werewolf children with human allergies when Matthew appeared at my side, his timing suspiciously perfect.

"May I steal my mate for a dance?" he asked, his hand warm against my lower back.

As the string quartet began playing a waltz, Matthew led me to the center of the floor. The melody was hauntingly beautiful, notes shimmering in the air like moonlight on water.

"Moonlight Waltz," he whispered, guiding me into position. "It's a pack favorite."

I felt his muscles relax as we found our rhythm, moving in perfect synchronization. Matthew guided me through complex turns I'd never attempted, but somehow my body knew exactly where to go, as if our shared bond translated directly into physical harmony.

I became aware that other dancers had moved aside, creating space for us at the center. Werewolves were watching—not with judgment as I'd feared, but with appreciation and respect.

As the music swelled toward its climax, Matthew pulled me closer, one hand splayed possessively across my back. Then, in full view of the gathered packs, he bent and pressed his lips to my forehead in a gesture that was unmistakably tender.

I heard a soft gasp from somewhere in the French contingent—public displays of affection weren't the norm here, I gathered—but Matthew's eyes held only certainty when they met mine again.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of conversations and introductions. As we prepared to leave, Alpha Adrien approached us once more.

"Spring Valley would be most welcome in our medical resource-sharing initiative," he said formally. "Your mate's insights would be particularly valuable."

Matthew's hand found mine. "We'd be honored to participate."

In the taxi back to our hotel, I leaned against Matthew's shoulder, emotionally and physically drained. The evening had been both a triumph and an ordeal—I'd survived my first international pack function and apparently made a favorable impression, but the constant vigilance had left me exhausted.

"You were magnificent," Matthew murmured, kissing my hair.

"I need a shower," I replied, too tired for eloquence.

Back in our suite, I headed straight for the bathroom, desperate to wash away the tension of the evening. I stood under the hot spray until my skin turned pink, letting the water sluice away the remnants of anxiety and self-doubt.

When I finally emerged in a fluffy hotel robe, hair damp against my shoulders, I found Matthew on the balcony, phone pressed to his ear, voice low and urgent.

"Yes, the ceremony..." he was saying. "No, she doesn't know yet... I wanted it to be a surprise."

"What ceremony?" I asked, wrapping the hotel robe tighter around my body.