The world is blurry when I wake. I sit up, instantly on edge. My wolf senses something is wrong—not a remarkable feat of instinct. I don't recognize my surroundings, and I have no memory of falling asleep. The last thing I remember is the "have a drink with the Alpha" event, discussing fatherhood with my constituents.

How much time has passed? I wonder, my thoughts trapped in a strange fog. I feel hungover, but I can't imagine I drank enough to cause this. It's already light, and why do I smell…

"Lydia!" I exclaim, scanning the room for my ex-wife. The entire space reeks of her perfume; I belatedly realize we're in a hotel. I sense her presence in the next room, but as I slide out of bed, I realize I'm completely naked.

She appears in the bathroom doorway, leaning against the frame. She's wearing my dress shirt from last night, unbuttoned from collar to hem, revealing her nudity. I'm sure she intended to tantalize me with glimpses of her tan skin, but I feel no attraction. My wolf roars in my head; my hackles rise defensively as Lydia flashes a lethal grin.

"Good morning, lover."

"What have you done?" I snarl, my outrage and disgust unconcealed. Slowly, infuriatingly slowly, a picture forms in my mind. The puzzle pieces click into place. I feel groggy, achy, and nauseous—not from a hangover, but from being drugged.

That metallic taste in my drink. I realize angrily, wishing I'd left the pub the moment I suspected something was wrong. I glance at the windows; it must be morning. I have no memory of last night and no idea what I did while drugged. Did she drug me enough to make me sleep with her? Did I make a scene leaving the bar?

"Dominic, I haven't done anything!" Lydia exclaims, looking offended. "Don't you remember? We ran into each other after your event. I guess without your 'little pet' hanging on your arm, you finally remembered why we're so good together."

Ella! I think suddenly. I promised her I'd be home for dinner; she must be worried! "Where's my phone?" I demand sharply.

Lydia's mouth drops open; her haughtiness falters. "Seriously?!" she bursts out. "That's all it takes—one mention of the little bitch, and you forget I exist?"

Without thinking, I lunge toward Lydia, claws and fangs extended, struggling to suppress the urge to shift. I stop short of reaching her, though my wolf is sorely tempted. "Don't you ever talk about Ella that way. Keep her name—and any other foul nicknames you invent—out of your mouth."

"What are you doing?" Lydia sputters, flinching and backing away. "I'm your mate. You can't… This isn't…"

"You think I can't threaten you? You think I can't hurt you if you endanger my family?" I snap. "You aren't my mate anymore, and you were never worthy of being Luna, even when you held the title." Even I'm shocked at my aggression toward her. Everything I know about fated mates suggests I shouldn't be able to raise a hand against her, but it's as if she and Ella have traded places in my heart. My wolf now cares only for protecting Ella, the mother of my pup, even if it means protecting her from my former fated mate.

"I haven't done a thing to your disgusting little family," Lydia spits, hissing like a cat.

"You drugged me," I accuse. "What if I let something sensitive slip? How did you get me out of that bar? What if someone saw us leaving together? You might have compromised my campaign! And that does threaten my family—make no mistake."

"Who are you!" Lydia explodes, furious and cowering. "People don't just stop being mates, Dominic! You can't erase our past because you found a new plaything. You always said I was more important than politics… and now… Goddess, I don't even recognize you!"

"You didn't think you could walk out on me and I'd remain the same, did you? Did you expect me to wallow like a lovesick pup when I have a pack to lead and the fate of the entire realm rests on my shoulders? Did you really believe I'd pine for you, and you could walk back into my life as if nothing happened?" I rumble coldly, wondering how I ever loved this woman. Ella would never ask me to choose her over the campaign; she wouldn't want me to. "And for the record, Lydia, I said you were more important than politics, not the pack—not my duty to protect my people."

"Well, you didn't care much about your family or your pack last night," Lydia announces spitefully, her cruel smile more of a grimace. "The time apart certainly didn't hurt us in the bedroom. You were every bit as ferocious and virile as ever. I might be pregnant."

I try not to show how deeply her words cut. The idea that I slept with her under the influence of her drugs sickens me. I don't know if she's telling the truth. There are no hickeys or love bites on her, and I don't feel any scratches; but if I was unconscious, there wouldn't be. While her remarks about my virility are likely a lie, I can't rule out sex entirely. The bed is in disarray, and she certainly smells like me. Is it just from sleeping together… or did she steal my seed, as she suggests?

"What would it matter if you're pregnant?" I say. "I already have my heir."

"You know the firstborn isn't always the strongest," Lydia replies shrewdly, looking cunning. "And your current heir hasn't even been born yet. A spare wouldn't be a bad thing. Goddess knows anything can happen between now and the birth." She doesn't say it as a threat, but with the attempts on Ella's life, it's hard not to hear it that way. Ignoring the dangerous line she's walking, she rubs her belly, as if confirming her pregnancy. "I guarantee any child of mine will be stronger than that pipsqueak's. Soon you won't need Ella at all."

The petty part of me wants to lash out—to tell her that if we could have made a baby together, it would have happened during our marriage. I want to tell her she's delusional if she thinks she can get pregnant. But Ella's voice interrupts my thoughts, urging compassion, even though this monster doesn't deserve it.

I see my phone on the nightstand. I snatch it up, checking my messages. I'm not surprised by the missed calls and texts from Ella, but I'm horrified by my response and the photo. "You sent this to her?" I roar, thrusting the phone toward Lydia's sneering face.

She smirks. "Of course not. That was all you."

I stalk forward. "You better hope you're pregnant, Lydia," I declare icily. "Because if you aren't, I swear to the Goddess I will hunt you down and make sure you can never come near me or my family again."

I storm out without another word. I dial Ella as I race across town, unsurprised when she doesn't answer. My wolf panics about her reaction to Lydia's message. I know I wouldn't have ignored Ella like that—not when she's all my wolf wants. Was she very upset? Did it exacerbate her stress dangerously? I briefly stop at a newsstand to check for articles about Lydia and me before continuing to my mansion.

But when I arrive, Ella is nowhere to be found.