LUNA

ALEXANDER

I didn’t even know what I was supposed to feel.

After I failed to transform during the pack’s coming-of-age ceremony, my father left me to my fate. He handed me over to my stepmother’s cruelty, and she made sure I paid for surviving my mother—and for being born at all.

The youths who mocked me—who threw stones—were faces I could still see clearly. And yet, as the daughter of one of the pack’s most influential elders, I shouldn’t have been treated like that. But no one respected me. They jeered at my weight, called me ugly, and the cruelest of them gave me a name that stuck like a brand: dead fat wolf.

My door creaked open.

I jerked my head around and saw Anita slip inside, her eyes flicking to the empty mattress and then to me by the window. My room was large, but it might as well have been a cell—just the mattress on the floor and the stool beneath me.

“Alex,” she whispered, tense and hurried. “Mistress Jezebel demands your presence at once.”

At that name, fear clamped around my heart. My body went rigid, trembling before I could even think.

Anita was gone before I realized it—door closed, footsteps fading.

I forced myself off the stool and hurried after her. By the time I reached the door—barely a couple of minutes away—I was already panting, sweat sliding down the back of my neck.

They made me feel like being obese was a curse.

But I knew it wasn’t.

I pulled my door open and stepped into the hallway, my eyes snapping to my sister’s door, left slightly ajar.

“My darling Damon,” a breathy voice purred, “I can’t wait anymore. Let night fall, let the Moon Goddess declare me your fated mate. I want to live in your arms, to fall asleep to your love whispered into the dark. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

I recognized the speaker at once—Tracy. My step-sister. The Gideon family’s favored daughter. My father draped her in the finest things as if she’d been born royalty. The maids adored her beauty, and the men of the pack treated her like something precious.

She never wore the same dress twice in a day—once was enough for her.

My gaze dropped to my own outfit, a dress riddled with patches. I’d been wearing some version of the same worn fabric since my coming of age. After I failed to transform, they stopped allocating clothes to me. My father branded me useless, and my stepmother made sure I stayed that way. Even the maids wore pretty dresses while I rotated between two that no longer fit right, outgrowing everything I’d brought in my luggage long ago.

“I can’t wait either,” a male voice murmured. “I’ve been aching to see your beautiful face every morning when I wake.”

“Such a sweet tongue,” Tracy giggled. “You’ve learned to flatter me, Damon.”

My throat tightened.

That voice—there was no mistaking it. Damon. Our Alpha. And today, after the bonding ceremony, he would finally take the throne.

Call me a loser if you want, but ever since Damon stopped my step-mother from selling me off when I was a child, I’d watched him from a distance whenever I could. When he was near, my whole body felt too awake. My heart sprinted at the sound of his voice—even when he wasn’t speaking to me at all.

I didn’t realize I was moving until my feet carried me to Tracy’s door.

I peered through the narrow opening.

Tracy’s arms were looped around Damon’s neck. Damon’s hand rested on her waist, pulling her close. They leaned in—about to kiss.

A sour taste rose in my mouth. My chest cinched tight. I didn’t know what to call it—jealousy, hurt, longing—but the only thing I could think was that I wanted to be the one in his arms.

Then a sharp voice cracked through the hallway like a whip.

“Where is that girl?” Jezebel snarled.

Fear jolted through me. I stumbled back, trying to run, and my foot caught. I went down hard—my backside slamming into the floor.

As I scrambled up, I heard Damon’s voice, colder now.

“Someone’s peeping at us.”

Tracy’s laughter followed, light and careless.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said sweetly. “We’re getting married today.”

Before I reached the door at the end of the corridor, I was already drenched in sweat. My heart hammered against my ribs, and my fists tightened nervously. I reached for the handle—then flinched when Jezebel snapped, “Nonsense!”

I swallowed hard. My mouth went instantly dry. The moment she looked away from the maid giving her report and fixed her gaze on me, my back stiffened. Her eyes were so terrifying they stole the breath from my lungs.

“You’ve grown lazy, Alexander,” Jezebel said coldly. “Still in your room at this hour? Your workload clearly isn’t enough. I’ll instruct the butler to increase it immediately.”

My knees nearly buckled. I was already pushed to my limit. The maids refused to lift a finger; whenever they saw me, they dumped their work on me, and if I refused, I’d be beaten until I gave in.

“We’ve seen the Elder,” the maids chimed in at once.

That was when I lifted my head and saw my father. He frowned, looking me over, and demanded, “What are you doing here—and why are you wearing that dress?”