The moon hung full and silver above the Blackwood territory, casting ethereal light through the ancient oaks surrounding our private pavilion. I smoothed my hands over the midnight blue dress I'd chosen specifically for tonight—Ethan's favorite color on me. Seven years. Seven years since we'd stood before the Moon Goddess and pledged our souls to each other.
"Everything has to be perfect," I murmured to Grace, my inner wolf, as I adjusted the lanterns one final time. Their warm glow created intimate pools of light around the small clearing where Ethan had first kissed me as teenagers.
*He's been distant lately,* Grace observed, her tone worried.
"Tonight will fix that," I insisted, though doubt gnawed at my heart. "Once he sees what I've prepared, once we reconnect away from pack duties and... her."
I'd spent three days marinating the venison in the special blend of herbs Ethan's mother had taught me before she passed. The meat now rested on silver platters alongside fresh bread, wild berries, and the honey mead we'd shared on our mating ceremony. But the food was secondary to what lay wrapped in moonsilk on the ceremonial stone—my true gift.
The carved wooden box contained two items I'd spent months creating. First, a leather-bound journal where I'd written one memory from each month of our seven years together—eighty-four precious moments that defined us. Second, a pair of matching wolf pendants I'd commissioned from the pack's finest craftsman, embedded with fragments of the moonstone from the night we discovered we were mates.
"Luna Olivia?" A young Delta's voice called from beyond the tree line. "Alpha Ethan asked me to inform you he'll be there shortly."
"Thank you, Sara," I called back, my heart lifting. He hadn't forgotten.
I lit the ceremonial candles as the moon reached its zenith, their flames dancing in the gentle breeze. Everything was ready. I settled onto the soft furs I'd arranged, my mother's repaired bracelet catching the moonlight. Maeve had helped me restring it, though some of the original stones were lost forever.
Footsteps approached through the underbrush. My pulse quickened as Ethan emerged from the shadows, still in his training clothes rather than the formal attire I'd laid out for him. His expression was distracted, his phone clutched in one hand.
"Ethan," I rose, gesturing to the spread before us. "Happy anniversary, my love."
His eyes swept over the pavilion, the food, the gifts, and something flickered across his face—surprise? Had he truly forgotten?
"Olivia, this is..." he paused, pocketing his phone. "You didn't need to do all this."
"Of course I did." I moved toward him, reaching for his hands. "Seven years deserves celebration. I made your mother's venison recipe, and I have something special to show you—"
His phone buzzed. He glanced at it immediately, frowning.
"Leave it," I said softly. "Whatever pack business it is can wait one night."
"It's not pack business." He was already typing a response. "Amber's not feeling well."
The name hit me like ice water. "What?"
"She texted earlier about feeling dizzy, but I told her to rest. Now she's saying it's getting worse." His frown deepened as another message came through. "She thinks it might be moon sickness."
Moon sickness—a condition that affected some wolves during the full moon, usually mild unless left untreated. Grace bristled within me. *The timing is too convenient.*
"Ethan," I kept my voice level, "we have a pack healer. Maeve can check on her."
"Maeve's with the elders tonight at the sacred grounds." He was already turning back toward the trees. "I should go see—"
"No." The word came out sharper than intended. "Ethan, this is our anniversary. Our seventh. I've been planning this for weeks."
He paused, and for a moment I thought I'd reached him. Then his phone buzzed again—not a text this time, but the urgent pulse of a mind-link being forced through. His eyes glazed as he accepted the connection.
"Ethan!" Amber's voice echoed in his mind so loudly I could hear the edges of it. "Please, I can't breathe properly. The moon—it's too much. I'm scared."
"I'm coming," he responded instantly, then looked at me with something almost like annoyance. "She needs help, Olivia. She saved your life."
"And that means she owns every moment of ours?" The words burst out before I could stop them. "Ethan, please. Just this one night—"
"I can't believe you're being this selfish." He shook his head, already backing away. "Amber is alone, suffering, and you want me to sit here eating venison while she could be in serious danger?"
"Selfish?" I stared at him, disbelief warring with hurt. "Ethan, I'm your mate. Your Luna. This is our—"
But he was already gone, his powerful form disappearing into the darkness without a backward glance. The sound of his footsteps faded, leaving me alone with the flickering lanterns and the elaborate meal that would go untouched.
I stood frozen for several heartbeats, staring at the spot where he'd vanished. Then, moving like a sleepwalker, I sank onto the furs. The venison's aroma, which had seemed so appetizing moments before, now made my stomach turn.
*He left,* Grace whimpered. *He just... left.*
With trembling hands, I reached for the wrapped gifts. The journal fell open to a random page—our third anniversary, when Ethan had surprised me with a midnight run to the lake where we'd first swam as pups. He'd held me under the stars and promised that nothing would ever come between us.
A bitter laugh escaped my throat. Nothing except a copper-haired lone wolf with convenient illnesses.
I stayed in the pavilion as the moon traced its path across the sky, the candles burning down to stubs. The food grew cold. The gifts remained unopened. And somewhere in the pack house, my mate tended to another woman while our seventh anniversary passed unmarked.
It wasn't until dawn painted the sky purple and gold that I finally rose, leaving everything exactly as it was. Let him see it in the harsh light of day. Let him understand what he'd abandoned.
But as I walked back to the pack house, Grace posed the question I'd been avoiding all night: *What if he doesn't care?*
