Iris
Blue Lake Town, Colorado. December, 2022. He's kissing me. I'm kissing him. The air is thick with heat and extreme devotion, his breath mingling with mine as Patrick kisses me again and again. My husband, my secret, my sin. The man I just sacrificed everything for. Regret gnaws, but I push it back. We married only hours ago in a hidden chapel just outside Silvaton Ridge. The rings we exchanged gleam in the poor motel lamplight, proof of our vow against everything in our lives. Proof of our true love. Our devotion to one another forever. I recall his vow. 'I, Patrick take you forever as my wife. My life. No one separates us from now till eternity.' Those words filter in now. Echoing in this intimate moment between Patrick and I. My heart thunders beneath his touch as his fingers trace the lines of my bare skin. His touch is slow and reverent. He moves inside me, deep and gentle, as if memorizing the rhythm of my entire body. The rhythm of my soul. I’m his, completely. Finally, and I don’t care about the war we started by loving each other. I’m an eighteen year old Luna. The daughter of a fallen Alpha from the Silver Wolf Pack. Killed under mysterious orders. I was promised to Alpha Gerald Ford, my fated mate, the pack’s leader. But I ran. Fled Silvaton Ridge. Crossed the border to be with the one I chose, Patrick, a Blue Wolf. An enemy. A rival. A forbidden love entanglement. I broke my mother’s heart. Broke all our ancient laws. All for love for Patrick. All for the love of this werewolf, who promises me a life filled with passion and adventure and not duty and ancient mate bonds, like my parents shared. ‘You’re being naive, Iris…listening to Patrick’s human imbibed charm filled tongue…’ My mum’s argument days ago, after I told her I went to reject my Alpha, Gerald. I told him he wasn't passionate. I needed passion. ‘Nothing like passion and adventure. Your bond with your mate is most important. Fulfilling the ancient rituals…’ My heated argument with mum days ago, threatens to shatter me. But I push the memory and accompanying guilt back. “I... I can’t hold on anymore, Patrick...” I whisper, the pleasure unbearable. “C*me for me, my love,” he murmurs, his voice wrecked with devotion. I’m seconds away, when the door blasts open. I scream. Patrick grabs me, shielding my body with his. Red eyes gleam in the dark. A monstrous shadow stands in the doorway, towering, snarling, terrifying me. Eriana. I know those eyes. I know that rage. Leader of the female betas. Patrick’s mate by law, not love. Sister to Gerald. Patrick shifts instantly, covering me. “Eriana…” his voice trembles. She doesn’t speak. She growls. Two wolves flank her. Betrayal screams in the air. Her fury is ancient. Righteous. And terrifying. She lunges for me. Patrick meets her midair, fur and fangs colliding, snarls tearing through the room. “Patrick!” I cry, as their wolves crash and twist across the room. But she’s stronger. Her rage is a weapon. She pins him. “No!” I scream, struggling to rise. Patrick’s eyes find mine one last time. Bleeding. Loving. “I love you, Iris… Always,” he rasps. Then Eriana rips out his throat. Blood floods the room. The scent hits me hard like fire. My wolf howls from within, erupting, trembling, but I’m too slow. Too weak. I charge her, but Eriana flings me like I’m nothing. My body hits the wall. My vision swims randomly. Pain rips through my side. My wolf fights to take over but I’m drowning in grief, in rage, in helplessness. She comes for me again, and I know death is next. The next I hear, “Eriana! Enough!” A voice. Cold. Commanding. Everything freezes around me. Alpha Gerald. He's here. He steps into the room, his wolf form immense, his power suffocating. His eyes lock on mine, burning, emotionless. I choke on my own breath. “You’re going to spare her?” Eriana snarls. “After what she did to you? She rejected you. Took my mate.” “She betrayed me,” Gerald replies, voice low and deadly. “But I won’t kill her.” He picks me up like I weigh nothing. My blood drips down his arms. I can’t move. Can’t speak. The world spins. “You killed your betrayer. Let me punish mine as I deem fit.” “What punishment?” Eriana growls. Silence. I pass out. *** I wake up in a room. It’s warm. My throat burns. My neck stings like it’s been scorched. Burns like alcohol against my skin. Muffled voices come up. “What would you have me do, Alpha?” Pause. “I fell in love with her…Not just the ancient connection…Not just the duty... It would kill me if I kill her…” He pauses. Heavy. Pain etched in his silence. Then his voice cones up. Stronger. Colder. “Erase her. Her memory. Her face. Her past. Make her someone else.” A sharp gasp. “The ancient punishment fit for only Lunas…The one metted by only Alpha's when their hearts have been betrayed…But she’s your Luna.” “Correction, she's my sinful Luna!” His voice is sharp. Raw with pain. “She was mine by fate. She left by choice. Broke our fated bond. Rejected me, because she hated the pack rules. Because she was afraid of ending up in a passionless bond like her parents shared. Because she allowed her heart choose Patrick…” Something suddenly shifts in the air. In his tone. “I have erased her by pain. She died the moment she let another man touch her.” I try to cry out. I can’t. My mouth won’t move. My limbs won’t obey. They’re binding me with something stronger than rope. A strong ancient magic. One I recognize even in my sleep. “She was fated to me,” Gerald continues, “but she made her choice. Patrick was to marry Eriana and unite our packs. She shattered that with her selfish love. With her love for reckless abandon and human ideas of passion…” Pain stabs my chest. I can’t breathe. I need to breathe. No, Gerald. “If I ever see Iris Herewit again,” Gerald says, voice slicing the air, “I’ll rip her heart out myself.”Oleen.Wednesday, 16th July. Four days later…Morning.For two weeks, I haven’t stepped out of my home. I refuse real food, just scraps when my body threatens collapse. Water burns down my throat when I drink it, because I barely touch it. My body weakens, but it isn’t hunger that starves me. It’s grief.The grief of loss. The grief of ruin.My powers as an oracle, gone. My gifts as a healer, snatched. All because I let my darkest desires fester.I remember that night like it was carved into my skin. Eliora’s voice, her words like blades. Harsh. Brutal. Final. She stripped me of my powers, left me shattered in the cemetery. And the mirror, my one companion, silent. Dead. No whisper, no voice. It abandoned me. After everything it made me do, it left me as well.I curl beneath my blanket, sobbing. Outside, fists hammer against my door.“Miss Oleen, please…it’s my husband..”“Miss Oleen, come quick…”Their voices have haunted me for days. Desperate. Begging. I ignore them. I rot in here,
Iris. Night… The room is shrouded in darkness when I step in. I exhale heavily and shut the door, flicking the lights on. My thoughts won’t stay still, they keep circling back to the remarkable moments I shared with Mum today. The conversation we had about Gerald and me. Just the thought of confessing to him gives me goose bumps. I strip off my slacks and step toward the closet and then freeze. Gerald, seated on the window cushion, eyes on me. “Gerald.” I breathe, fast, hard. His gaze darkens as he rises, slow, deliberate. Desire and danger all at once. My throat dries at the way he looks at me. His gaze never waving. “When did you get back?” My voice cracks. “I got back hours ago.” His tone is low, controlled, but the rage in his eyes is unmistakable. Not at me, at something else. “Your phone was here, blaring all day. And the guards said you walked past them and down the road.” A shudder ripples through me as I realize the reason for his rage. The thought of losing me. My h
Agnes Herewit. Minutes later… I stare at this woman, reeling from the story she just spilled. My daughter. My Iris. Her words still echo in my skull like a curse. She spoke of ancient magic, the kind whispered about in hushed voices when I was young. She claimed Gerald used it on her. Gerald? By Eliora, what kind of madness is this? Pain sears my chest, anger prickling sharp and hot. “Look.” I snap, my tone cutting sharper than I intend. “I know you’ve helped me with the pack, but that doesn’t give you the right to break into my home…” “I didn’t break in, Mum. I found the keys where you always left them.” Her interruption twists the knife inside me. My gaze sharpens. My voice drops low, steel. “Luna, anyone could’ve found those keys if they’d been watching me.” I push to my feet, ready to throw her out, but her next words freeze me mid step. “Didn’t you ever wonder why I called you ‘Mum’ that day? The day I passed out here?” I whirl to face her. The truth of it claws at me.
Iris. Saturday, 12th July, four days later… Morning. I’ve had nightmares for days on end. Dreams where I fall, endlessly, and no one catches me. Until suddenly, I’m submerged in blood. Drowning in it. And then Gerald pulls me out, only for him to shift into his wolf and lick every drop of blood off my skin. When he morphs back, his eyes lock on mine, and he asks me to stand by his side against the entire world. This morning, the same fevered vision yanks me from sleep. My reflection in the mirror stares back at me with wide, haunted eyes. If I don’t leave this house right now, I’ll lose my mind. I shower, throw on a simple pink day dress that hides the scar Erianna gave me years ago, twist my hair into a messy bun, and head downstairs. At the bottom of the staircase, I run straight into her. Erianna. My feet freeze of their own accord, heart pounding. Not from fear, but from memory. Instinct. She blocks my path, her face smug, and suddenly I see her as she was that day, rippin
Gerald. Night… It’s 10:58 p.m. when I finally have a moment to myself. The words from tonight’s meeting still echo in my head. ‘We cannot end an age old tradition because of an aggrieved widow. Simon’s widow is only sad that her mate was taken from her. Would she have petitioned if Gerald had fallen instead? I don’t think so.’ That argument sparked a storm. Elders murmured and clashed, voices rising, while we Alphas sat silent in our booth. Watching. Carrying the mantle of leadership, once a symbol of strength, now a burden that weighed like iron chains. None of us had the courage to say what we feared most. A widow had done what we could not. Even now, my chest tightens at the image of Simon’s mate weeping before the world. Her grief mirrored in so many others, women and men robbed of warmth, of the one soul they lived for. Seeing her only deepened what I already knew; every moment with my mate is priceless. I can’t waste them. Once in bed, I reach for my phone. My heart settle
Iris. Tuesday, 8th July, three days later… Evening. I’m out on the terrace, staring helplessly into the garden. Rain falls in quiet sheets, soaking everything, cold and heavy. But it isn’t the wet or the chill that dampens my mood. It’s the dangerous truth I’m hiding, one I can’t bring myself to share. It presses down on me until my chest feels hollow, my heart drowning in guilt. For three days now, I’ve fought the urge to run to my mother, my real mother, Agnes Herewit and collapse in her lap. More than once I’ve sat in the car, hands trembling on the wheel, ready to drive to her. But every time I start the engine, I remember. To her, I am the kind Luna who redeemed her from shame. Not the guilty daughter who once dragged her name through the mud. And Gerald, gods, Gerald. The very qualities I once condemned, I now crave. Methodical. Careful. Compassionate. A true leader. Responsible. Sexy as hell. It’s always been him. Yet I tossed him aside for Patrick. Patrick, the charming f