THE LUNA OF PROPHECY

Being an Omega in Silvermoon meant one thing; you were nothing. Invisible, unwanted, a mere servant. My mother and I used to be betas, until she was accused of consorting with witches. From then on, we were pushed down to the bottom.

She worked herself to the bone; cleaning, running errands, raising other people’s children, anything to keep us alive. But when the Rogue Kingdom attacked five years ago, she took a hit meant for a beta’s child. The blade was laced with dark magic. It ate her from the inside, and no one helped us, they told her to go back to the witches she had supposedly consulted.

I sold everything, but it was not enough for her treatment. That’s when I borrowed from Viktor; he ran The Den; an underground club where alphas and betas hid behind masks to indulge their darkest cravings.

But my mother eventually died and I couldn’t pay him back, I was forced to work there. Stripping, serving, private rooms. Each night, I hated the way they looked at me like I was nothing but an object meant for their pleasure.

Then one night, the night that changed everything. Viktor summoned me as usual. Someone had paid double for a private session, cash up front. His told me to serve him well… do whatever he wants.

I thought it would be another faceless drunk behind a mask. But when I stepped into that booth, it wasn’t.

The man sat in the dark, wearing a black mask that hid his face, but nothing could hide the power rolling off him. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, he just sat there like he owned the entire place, he was so damn confident, and... dangerous.

Then I felt it. Havana, my wolf, stirred suddenly, she had caught a scent she couldn’t ignore.

Mate.

The word pulsed through me, it was real and undeniable, but it made no sense. I had never felt anything like it before, this strange mix of being completely exposed and yet… completely seen. His gaze wasn’t just on my body; it felt like he was looking into me, stripping away the walls I built, I felt so vulnerable.

And the worst part was that I couldn't break eye contact with him throughout the session, it felt like I was in a trance, like he was all I could see.

When the session was over, I turned to leave immediately, but he held my wrist firmly and he stood up. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and his scent was so intoxicating. His mask hid his face, but his eyes… gods, those eyes, they burned into me.

He stepped forward slowly, stopping just inches from me. The heat radiating from him made my breath hitch. The pull between us felt like gravity had lost its mind.

When his hand cupped the side of my face, every nerve in my body lit up. Havana whimpered inside me, desperate to close the space. And when he leaned in, I didn’t resist... I couldn’t.

The first brush of his lips shattered something inside me, it wasn’t gentle; it was raw and urgent, it claimed me like I’d always been his. Havana howled in triumph, flooding me with heat and dizzying needs.

I kissed him back hungrily, my fingers curling into his shirt, my body pressed tight to his as if my wolf feared he would disappear if I let go. I leapt at him, wrapping my legs around his waist, and he caught me effortlessly, like he had been waiting for this. My lips crashed against his, desperate and rough, tasting the heat I had been starved of all my life.

He stumbled back until he found the edge of the couch and sat, still holding me. I straddled him, my hands fumbling at the buttons of his shirt, hungry to feel the warmth of his skin. I kissed down his jaw, to the spot just under his ear, then lower, along the strong curve of his neck. His breath came out sharp, and that was all the encouragement I needed.

In the next second, he took control. His hands gripped my waist and, with an easy strength, he turned me and pressed me down onto the seat. He hovered over me like a predator who had finally caught his prey, his eyes were dark with raw desire, his chest rising and falling with something primal.

My breath hitched as his fingers brushed my skin, unclasping my bra with one hand. He cupped my breast, pinching my nipple, and a soft moan escaped my lips before I could stop it.

Then his hands slid lower, teasing at the waistband of my panties. I held my breath, my heart was pounding fast...

When his phone rang, the sound ripped through the haze. He pulled back, breathing hard, and I felt Havana snarl in protest, clawing at me to stay with him.

And that’s when the shock hit, what in the hell had I just done?

"Get out!" He ordered, not even sparing me a glance. The eye that once burned with so much desire for me was now filled with disgust.

I turned and ran out of the room.

When I reached the changing room, my heart was pounding in my chest, my hands were shaking. I had danced for men before, sure, but I never let anything more happen, nothing like this has ever happened to me before.

So why now? Why him? Why did I kiss him back like I wanted it?

No. No, this was crazy. I was probably tired, stressed… that had to be it. Because wanting a stranger like that, that wasn’t me. And Havana had to be losing her mind, calling that man my mate. No... this was just a heat of the moment madness, and it would never happen again. But my body still wanted him. What the hell is wrong with me? And more importantly, who was that man?