Luna Imogen

The first pale hint of dawn had barely crept through the arrow-slits when the harem door slammed open. Odessa stormed in, wooden stick in hand, cracking it against the iron bunk frames with sharp, merciless thwacks that rang like a whip.

“Up! Now!” she barked. “On your feet!”

The other Omegas jolted awake, scrambling down ladders with muffled whimpers, but Scarlett was already upright on the top bunk, legs folded, knees hugged to chest, drawn tight to her chin, silver hair spilling like moonlight over her shoulders. She hadn’t slept—not one wink—and it had carved shadows beneath her honey-brown eyes. She knew her stillness infuriated Odessa, like a quiet dare, she knew the Beta expected cowering and she offered none of it. The Beta hated her refusal to flinch.

Deliberately slow, she unfolded herself and dropped to the floor, bare feet silent on the stone, her gaze meeting Odessa’s glare with cool honey-brown eyes that promised no timidity. Jada entered behind Odessa, quieter, carrying bundles of pale-blue linen so soft they seemed stolen from clouds, cool and fine against scarred skin to replace the scratchy wool tunic they had been made to wear yesterday.

Odessa’s glare raked over Scarlett as the women dressed in hurried silence, then she jerked her chin toward the corridor. “Move. The Luna awaits.”

Flanked by the two Betas, the Omegas were marched through frost-kissed halls, torchlight flickering on Scarlett’s unbound hair, her spine straight, her untamed heart beating a war rhythm beneath the gentle linen as they approached the gilded doors of the Luna’s chambers.

Morning light spilled across the Luna’s vast chambers that glowed like a jewel set in frost, pale silk draperies fluttering at the open balcony where snow-capped peaks glittered beneath a weak winter sun and frost-laced air mingled with the scent of warm milk and honeyed oats. Imogen reclined in a deep-cushioned chair of ivory velvet, her breakfast tray pushed aside, silver covers still warm.

Heavy with child—seven months swollen beneath layers of sapphire silk—she breathed in shallow, labored huffs, one hand resting atop the taut curve of her belly. A young maid knelt at her feet, kneading swollen ankles with scented oil, the rhythmic motion the only sound until the doors swept open.

Odessa strode in first, boots silent on thick furs, flanked by Jada and the new Omegas. At the center of the chamber, Odessa sank into a deep bow. 

“Luna Imogen,” she greeted, voice tempered with reverence, “may I present your new maids-in-waiting.” One by one the women stepped forward—three trembling, one unbowed, honey-brown eyes fixed not on the floor but on Imogen’s without permission. 

The Luna’s gaze narrowed, pale-blue eyes rimmed with fatigue yet sharp then softened with something perilously close to intrigue. Her eyes snagged instantly on the silver-haired girl standing at the end of the line, drawn by the same moon-pale strands that mirrored her own, spilling over her own shoulders. A flicker of recognition softened her tired features. She lifted a delicate hand from the curve of her belly, gesturing Scarlett forward.

“Your name, child,” she said, voice soft as falling snow yet carrying the weight of command. “And from which kingdom were you… purchased?”

Scarlett’s fingers curled at her sides and her jaw tightened at the word purchase, the taste of it bitter as iron. She stepped forward, chin high, refusing the expected curtsy. “Scarlett,” she answered, the name ringing clear and unadorned, “of Oshea.” No “my lady,” no bow; just the truth, sharp as a blade.

Odessa’s emerald eyes flashed with fury. “Scarlett of Oshea, Luna Imogen,” she snapped, voice cracking like a whip. “You will address the Luna with respect, or—”

Imogen’s soft laugh cut her short. She waved Odessa back with a lazy flick of jeweled fingers, her pale eyes dancing. A faint, almost mischievous smile curved her lips as she studied Scarlett’s unbowed stance. “That’s unnecessary now, Odessa. Manners can be taught.” She leaned forward slightly and tucked a silver lock behind her ear, the silk of her gown whispering. “I was born in Torrine myself, before Dravonia claimed me. For a moment when I saw your hair, I thought those strands meant you hailed from my old homeland too.” Her gaze lingered, warm and curious, on the girl who shared her coloring yet carried a storm no Torrine breeze had ever tamed. “It seems fate chose a different path… but I think I shall like you all the same, Scarlett of Oshea.”

Imogen’s smile widened, a glint of mischief in her pale-blue eyes as she tilted her head toward Odessa. “Winter will adore this one,” she murmured, silver hair spilling over her shoulder like moonlight, eyes dancing as they traced Scarlett’s defiant stance. “Mark my words.”

Odessa’s lips curved faintly. “He bought her himself—at the slave inn, for five thousand gold.”

Imogen’s brows arched, genuine intrigue sparking. She leaned forward, the child within her shifting. “Has he bedded her yet?”

“No,” Odessa replied, voice clipped. “Not yet. She remains untouched by him”

Scarlett’s breath caught, alarm flashing across her face like lightning over Oshea’s cliffs, the word yet lodged like a splinter. Imogen caught it instantly, her smile softening, slow and knowing. “Easy,” she soothed, gesturing lazily. “In the harem, we all serve the Alpha’s desires when he calls—especially now, when I am… indisposed.” She rested a hand on the swell of her belly.

Scarlett swallowed, the question trembling on her tongue. “And if we refuse? What happens… if we say no?”

Odessa moved like a striking viper. The wooden stick whistled through the air and cracked across Scarlett’s calf, pain exploding white-hot. She crumpled with a sharp cry, palms slapping the fur-covered floor.

“Odessa!” Imogen’s voice rang out, laced with unexpected iron, sharp despite her breathlessness. The Beta froze, stick raised, “Enough! Let her ask. Curiosity is no sin in my chambers.” Turning to Scarlett, still on her knees, Imogen’s tone gentled but carried winter’s edge. “But listen well, Scarlett of Oshea, refusal is… unwise. Winter’s wrath is a storm that leaves only frost and regret. His anger does not shout—it simply ends you. Some hungers are safer fed than fought.”

Scarlett held her gaze for a heartbeat, tears welled up in her eyes before Imogen waved them away, straightening up. Odessa nodded her head to Jada who came forward and ushered the four Omegas toward the ivory doors, Scarlett limping slightly, her calf throbbing beneath the linen skirt, silver braid swaying, honey-brown eyes burning with unshed fury. The heavy doors thudded shut behind them, muffling Imogen’s soft exhale.

The Luna sank back into her cushions, one hand stroking the restless swell of her belly. “Odessa,” she murmured, voice laced with fatigue and something darker, “when last did we send a woman to warm Winter’s bed?”

Odessa’s braid slipped over her shoulder as she bowed. “Weeks, Luna. Near a month or so.”

Imogen’s pale eyes glinted. “Too long. He grows restless—I feel it even here.” She waved a languid hand. “Arrange it. Tonight.”

Odessa dipped into a fluid bow, a smirk curling her lips like smoke. “As you command.” As she rose, her smirk sharpened—Scarlett’s face flashed in her mind, already tasting the lesson to come, that unbroken stare, that refusal to bow. The girl was too proud, too spirited for chains alone to break. She needed taming and who better to break that spirit than Lycan Winter himself? Tonight, the silver-haired Omega would be sent to his chambers, and by morning, would learn the true cost of defiance in Dravonia.