Immediately, I tore myself away from him. "What?!" I gasped, appalled.

His face fell in horror and disappointment. "Ella, I—" But I said nothing. Instead, I spun and hurried back into the dining room. Conner, seeing me approach, was instantly on his feet, a growl in his throat.

"What's wrong?" he snapped as I pressed against him. His arm instinctively encircled me, protecting me. "What did he do?"

"Nothing," I breathed, glancing back at Calvin, who looked at me with a hand over his mouth, as if he could retract his words. "Can we just… can we go home?"

"Did he touch you?!" Conner snapped, appalled.

"No, Conner!" I said, my voice breaking. I looked at him desperately. "It's fine—it's all fine! Can we just go?" His eyes swept over me, his growl intensifying, but seeing I was alright, he sprang into action. He quickly moved me to a fire exit beside the elevator, hastily opened the door, and ushered me down the stairs. He lifted his phone to his ear, calling for the car and demanding immediate arrival.

The hostess gasped as we burst from the staircase, but Conner ignored her, ushering me to our car, which immediately pulled up.

My whole body still shook. The trembling might have even intensified. Initially, it was because of whatever transpired between Calvin and me, but now it worsened as I processed the implications.

"Luna," Conner said, worried, helping me into the car. He climbed in after me, shutting the door. "Are you all right?!"

"Um," I said, looking up at him, hugging myself. His eyes widened when I didn't immediately say "yes." Frantic, he ordered the driver to go, then slipped off his jacket and wrapped it tightly around my shoulders, chafing my arms to warm me. Honestly, it did nothing—I wasn't actually cold—but I appreciated his effort and desire to help.

I leaned slightly against him, murmuring a thank you as I pulled the jacket tighter and fell into my thoughts. Because…mate.

Mate!

It wasn't possible. Sinclair was my mate. But… I shook my head, trying to understand. Our connection, our finding each other, our family—it was fated, foreseen even in my childhood. He wasn't just some guy I met. We were—I knew it in my bones—fated mates, in our own way.

But… I bit my lip. Lydia.

Sinclair had a fated mate before me. It hadn't been a good fit, but the bond was undeniable; she was his fated mate, and wolves are only supposed to have one.

So… if Sinclair could have two… couldn't I?

I moaned at the agonizing thought, leaning my head against Conner, who wrapped an arm around me.

"If you don't drive faster," he growled at the driver, "I'll rip your head off and carry Luna myself. So DRIVE!" The driver glanced back at my bodyguard, wide-eyed, and accelerated. I closed my eyes and prayed for a swift journey home.

I needed to be home, with my mate and my baby. Now.

Conner stayed at my side, helping me from the car in the palace garages and escorting me through the halls. Approaching my door, I placed a hand on his chest.

"You should go," I murmured, stopping and beginning to remove his jacket.

"What?" he asked, baffled, looking at the short distance to my suite as if assassins lurked there.

"Conner," I said seriously. "I'm so grateful for your kindness tonight—"

"Of course, Luna," he said, frowning. "You're our Luna, our Queen—I'd do anything for you—"

"And I'm grateful," I said, returning his jacket. "But Sinclair will be… volatile this evening, and considering your scent is on me…" He frowned, then realized I was right; he had been so comforting in the car.

Conner put his face in his hands, sighing deeply before looking up. "What did that asshole do to you, Luna? I'll kill him—"

"Nothing," I insisted, shaking my head. "Seriously, Conner, he did nothing bad—just… let me handle Sinclair, all right? And maybe… make yourself scarce for twenty-four hours."

Conner chuckled nervously, paling slightly. "All right," he murmured, nodding. He looked again at my door. "Are you sure you—"

"I can walk ten feet by myself, Conner," I said, rolling my eyes. I heard him laugh as I waved over my shoulder. I paused with my hand on the doorknob, watching him disappear, then sighed deeply and stepped inside.

The room was dark—it was late, and the baby was asleep—"Ella?" Sinclair asked. I didn't jump; my eyes found him sitting in a chair by the window, fully dressed, clearly waiting. He stood, sensing something was wrong.

I sighed, closing the door and leaning against it.

"What's wrong?" he growled, stepping toward me. I hung my head, tears pricking my eyes.

I'd held it together in the car, not wanting Conner to see me fall apart, but now, here… I completely unraveled. Sinclair gasped, realizing how upset I was. He was before me instantly, reaching for me.

I threw myself into his arms, wrapping my arms around his waist, pressing my head against his chest and sobbing, breathing in his comforting scent. I felt his arms wrap around me, his face lower to my hair, and a kiss there.

He let me cry, shocked at first. Then, he tensed with fury.

"What did he do?" Sinclair growled, livid.

I tightened my arms around him and shook my head. Calvin hadn't done anything. It was my mother.

The Goddess assigns mates—and had she seriously done this? Given me a second mate when I was happily settled with my first? What the hell was she playing at?