His Runaway Luna

The night my fated mate became Alpha, he looked straight through me and called me a stray. I was nineteen, packless, and washing other people's shirts for tips. He was the Halloran heir, and a woman with a trading family's money stood beside him. I kept the rejection. I took the bus. Three years later my hand-dyed silks are in a Manhattan boutique and I'm sitting across a lodge table from the buyer of the year. It's Knox. And he doesn't know me at all. He will. He'll know my name, my work, and the ledger I've been sewing into his family's coats. He'll know what his father cost us. He'll know what I cost back. But the one thing he won't get is me — not because he says so, not on his schedule. If Knox Halloran wants a Luna, he'll come to my shop and stand on my sidewalk like the rest of the customers. A rejected mate werewolf rags to romance, where the girl who had nothing walked away and built everything.