Luna's Power

Amber's POV

Alone in my lit room, I sat cross-legged on the plush carpet, my back against the cool, textured wall. Thalia, the wolf in me, whimpered in her corner. Her sorrow echoed in my mind, a haunting melody of pain that I couldn’t silence no matter how hard I tried.

“Shhh, Thalia,” I muttered, but my attempts to calm her were in vain. Her suffering was like mine, a constant reminder of the betrayal that gnawed at our hearts.

Nash, my husband, is with another woman. I could feel it in the deepest depths of my soul, the harsh reality that polluted the surrounding air. Thalia’s suffering was getting worse, her basic instincts could not understand how cruel an affair was.

I closed my eyes, trying to block out the images that threatened to overwhelm me. Nash’s laugh, his soft whisper—was now tainted by lies and deceit. How could he do this to me? For me?

A sharp pain tore through my thoughts, drawing my attention to my enlarged stomach. A physical reminder of our love, now tarnished by the shadow of betrayal. I traced the curve with trembling fingers, feeling the weight of uncertainty settle in my stomach.

“Amber...”

Thalia’s voice, a gentle whisper in the back of my mind, pulled me from the depths of despair. He also felt the pain of betrayal, the sting of broken trust.

“I know, Thalia,” I whispered, my voice audible in the room's silence. “I feel it too.”

We shared our pain, our sorrows intertwined like the twisted branches of a vine. Outside, the world continues to spin, oblivious to the chaos within these four walls.

Our wedding night sticks in my memory like a haunting melody, its discordant notes echoing in the corridors of my mind. Nash, my husband, had left an indelible mark on that night—a mark that would forever stain my innocence and shatter my illusions of marital bliss.

I remember the anticipation that coursed through my veins as I stepped into the shared room, a blushing bride eager to start her new life. But when the door closed behind us, Nash’s attitude changed. His touch became cold and possessive.

“Tonight, you’re mine,” he whispered, his voice filled with a hunger that sent shivers down my spine.

I tried to push aside the growing discomfort, and reassure myself that this was normal—that every newlywed couple experiences the same desires and desires. But as the night went on, Nash’s advances became more aggressive, his hands moving wherever he pleased, ignoring my protests.

And when dawn broke through the curtains, I lay alone in bed, my body bruised and broken.

From then on, our marriage became a battleground—relentless abuse that I couldn’t escape. Each day brought new insults, new wounds to my battered soul, as Nash wielded his power over me.

“You’re worthless.” He would sneer, his words deeper than any physical blow. “What a pathetic excuse for a wife.”

And I, stupid and naïve, would hang my head in resignation, swallowing my pride every day as I clung to the shattered fragments of our love.

Today, once again, I heard the faint murmur of voices from the other room—signs of another tryst in the dark. This was a scene that had happened many times before. Each encounter felt like a dagger in my already wounded heart. But tonight, as I lie alone in bed, what I feel is not the pain of betrayal, but the dull ache of surrender.

Because I’m used to this life, an empty existence where love is just a distant memory and passion is just a fleeting illusion. The fire that once burned brightly between Nash and I has long been extinguished, replaced by cold ash.

I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the sound of their whispered confessions, their whispered promises of pleasure. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t escape the truth that lay beneath the darkness—the truth that Nash had abandoned me, that I was nothing more than a burden to him now.

“Amber...”

Her voice cut through the silence like a knife, slicing through the fragile threads of my resolve. I turned to face him, my eyes meeting his with a mixture of resignation and despair.

“Where have you been?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

I wanted to scream, denounce the injustice that was happening. But I swallowed my pride, burying my pain behind a mask of stoicism. My heart pounded with fear as I heard his footsteps drawing closer, each a painful reminder of the betrayal that awaited me.

He entered the room nonchalantly, his eyes scanning my figure briefly before sitting down on the sofa where I sat, a silent witness to his affair.

“Amber,” he said, his voice tinged with annoyance. “I want you to do something for me.”

I prepared myself for what was to come, knowing full well the nature of his request. The words that came out of his lips gave me goosebumps.

“I want you...”

I cut him off before he could finish, my voice shaking with suppressed anger.

“No, Nash. I won’t do it.”

He snorted, a mocking grin turning his lips into a cruel smile. He took off his trousers, revealing the object in the trousers right in front of me. I understand what he wants to do.

“You don’t have a choice, Amber. Now suck this.”

The words hit me like a physical blow, leaving me reeling with feelings of helplessness that threatened to consume me. Even so, I refused to back down—not this time.

“You can’t force me,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the beat of my heart.

For a moment, there was silence—an eerie, oppressive silence that hung in the air between us. Then, without warning, Nash lunged, his hand gripping my wrist, making me gasp.

“Stop it, Nash!” I cried, my voice rising to a desperate plea. But he paid me no mind, his grip getting tighter by the second. I couldn’t fight back when he forced the object into my mouth. I couldn’t help but cry. You can only surrender to everything and move slowly as she screams in pleasure.

“You’re pathetic,” he spat, his words dripping with disgust. “Useless excuses for a wife.”

I knew that I had lost—not just the fight, but a part of me. Because at that moment, I realized that no matter how hard I struggled, I could never change the person Nash is now. And as I fell to the floor, my body racked with sobs, I knew that the wounds he had caused in my heart would never fully heal.

The room felt stifling, oppressive, as Nash’s demands echoed in my ears. His hands were rough, his touch aggressive as he forced me to kneel before him. Panic gripped my heart, squeezing the air from my lungs as I struggled against its iron grip.

“No, Nash, please. Not again,” I begged, my voice shaking with fear and desperation. But my words fell on deaf ears, drowned out by his insatiable lust and my overwhelming sense of helplessness.

I could taste the bitter taste of defeat on my tongue as I lowered my head, my tears mixing with the salt on his skin as I complied with his demands. The scent of another woman clung to him like a haunting melody, a cruel reminder of his infidelity that lingered in the air like a stench.

But even though I choked with the bitterness of betrayal, I did not dare utter the name of the woman whose essence clung to him like a second skin. Because to acknowledge its existence would be to face the truth of its violation, a truth I was not ready to face.

So, I closed my eyes and pushed aside the whispers of doubt that threatened to consume me, burying them under a mask of obedience and submission. Because in the twisted dance of our loveless union, I have learned to endure—swallow my pride and swallow my pain in equal measure.

As Nash’s demands became more urgent, his grip tightening around my neck like a noose, I felt the last vestiges of my resistance disappear. Every moment, I surrender a part of myself to him, sacrificing my dignity on the altar of his desires.

But even as I surrendered myself to him, body, I couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness that gnawed at my insides—a hollow ache that no amount of physical pleasure could fill.

“Good, you’ll do more of this tomorrow or later.”