The Slave Who Owned The Moon

Amaya’s POV

“Where the hell is she?” I hear Evelara yell, her voice reverberating through the pack house. There are over twenty ladies attending to her every need, but I know I am the one she’s referring to. The orphan. The only one who didn’t have to beg her way to be made a slave in the pack house.

I am not even supposed to be in here. My place has always been by the pack's healer's side, using my gifts to treat illnesses. Yet, here I am, an addition to a line of slaves.

With one hand folded in a fist, and the other balancing a basket on my waist, I increase my pace, running into her bedroom. She sits before the vanity, staring at her reflection.

The moment Evelara sees me, she holds her hand up to stop the ladies working on her hair. They take a few steps back, their faces staring at the plain wooden ground. They know better than to interrupt.

Her hand collides with my face, forcing me to look the other way. It stings. I feel it in every fragment of my being.

“My mating ceremony is only in thirty minutes, and yet, the flowers are not ready,” she snaps, her already delicately arranged hair falling out of their holds. “What use are you to me here then, Amaya? The warriors should just have killed you like they did to the rest of your stupid rogue pack.”

If the situation were any different, I might have laughed at how funny she looks with the scattered curls hanging over her head.

"Alpha Darian doesn't like being late, and you know it. Or are you trying to make me look bad in front of him?"

Alpha Darian. The man who ordered the attack of every member of the rogue pack who took me in when I had no one. Alpha Darian. The man I hate.

“I’m sorry, Evelara. I was …”

And then, I stop. Blink. Something just happened.

I hear the sudden pause in the room, and in this moment, I realize my mistake. But it is too late as another slice wooshes through the air and lands on the same spot on my face.

“What did you just call me?”

Tears sting the corner of my eyes. I try to blink them away, but it only makes it worse. The gaze of the ladies in the room remains rooted to the ground.

I am all alone.

“I meant…” I bite my lips, trying hard to hold my tears at bay. Evelara hates us crying in front of her. “…Luna Evelara. I’m sorry.”

It doesn’t matter that she isn’t the Luna of the Greyhide pack. At least not yet. She has insisted I call her that from the moment I was taken captive.

“Why are you still standing here?”

Nodding, I rush away from her, planting myself at one corner of the room, very far away from her, just in case something else gets her upset.

There is a slight drizzle. It hits the window pane with each strike, and I feast on it greedily as my hands move mechanically, arranging the stems of flowers in the basket into a bouquet.

My mind travels as I work. I think of everything I would have been doing right at this hour if the rogue pack hadn't been attacked four weeks ago.

Maybe the streams at the bottom of the hills would have welcomed me, my arms paddling through the warm water, and my best friend, throwing stones from the foot of the huge tree, laughing when the current threatens to pull me away.

I hear the door open in the distance. Footsteps follow next, and then a light chuckle. I angle my head slightly, just in time to see Evelara’s eyes light up as she receives a gift from a pair of hands.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she drawls, unwrapping the package. A dagger. How cute.

“I didn’t have to,” a deep baritone echoes round the room.

I raise my head higher. It is the first time I've seen him since I got to the pack house. The only thing I know about him is the whispers from the other servants. They speak about his ruthlessness, how he owns the largest pack in the region, and how every single wolf is feared by him.

He looks in my direction, and I freeze.

Why does my heart feel weird?

The flowers drop from my hands, their whispers barely audible, as I clutch onto my chest. For some reason, it hurts. The pain pierces through me, yet I cannot stop staring at him.

His lips move, but I cannot make out his words. Still, I hear them inside my head.

“Mate.”

I have heard of this moment, the tales recounted a million times. But none of those stories describes this pain.

Alpha Darian moves towards me, his presence filling the room. It feels like the whole world has disappeared into nothing, leaving only the two of us. I am painstakingly aware of every move he makes, how he stops in front of me, how his eyes take in the mess the flowers have made on the floor.

“Pick them up.”

I blink, fast. Just like that, every single thing that has disappeared comes back into focus.

“Why must you do this?” Evelara rages and rushes towards us. "First, you don't show up until thirty minutes before the mating ceremony, and now, you've ruined my bouquet!"

“Who is she?”

I don’t know why that stings. My mate has no idea who I am.

“Some wench the warriors brought from the rogue pack that was attacked a month ago,” Evelara says in one breath. She fears him, too. They all do.

"The ceremony can go on without the bouquet," he mutters, giving the flowers on the ground one last look before putting an arm out for Evelara. She takes it while I watch them float towards the door.

Or more like watch Evelara float, while Alpha Darian leads. He gives nothing away, not surprise, not disappointment.

"You!" He stops by the door for a second. "I should see you in my study immediately after the mating ceremony is over. Don't make me look for you."