The scarred Luna

Violeta's Pov

I used to be beautiful.

I used to walk the streets with my head held high, knowing that I was admired.

My beauty unmatched and unchallenged made my packmates give me titles :

“Her father's pride.”

“The perfect daughter.”

“The perfect prize.”

“The Pack's beauty.”

I was everything and more.

Not until Alara ruined me.

And it happened so fast.

One moment, I was laughing with my friends at the Moonlight festival, surrounded by silver light and classical music.

And the next, I was screaming.

My skin was burning and the scent of my own flesh filled the air, twisting my stomach so hard I threw up.

Alara grinned widely as she held the pitcher that once contained boiling water. “You thought you have it all but now, you don't! You're nothing, Violeta!”

And she was right.

The first time I looked into the mirror, I vomited.

My once-perfect face was covered in scars.

My once-perfect face was now twisted and ruined beyond recognition.

My father, once proud to show me off to everyone, couldn't even look me in the eye anymore.

Mother had died years ago and now, I felt like I had died too.

The pack that had once adored me, now called me names.

I began to hear words I haven't heard before.

“She’s cursed.”

“She's a monster!”

“Hideous!”

“Cursed.”

No one even dared to look at their eyes.

No one dared to touch me.

And when the whispers became unbearable, father wasted no time getting rid of me.

Lycan King Theron’s men had visited our pack in search of servants to buy, father sold me off Without blinking.

“For the good of the pack,” he had told me, but I knew the truth. I knew what he saw in me — a stain in his perfect legacy, an embarrassment to our prestigious family, a curse.

And that's how I ended up here — Theron's chambers.

It was colder than death.

The air reeked of blood, sweat, and the desperation of those who served under him including me.

I was nothing but a slave, a nameless girl among a dozen others who made sure the floors were scrubbed clean, his chambers were neat and comfortable and he had everything he needed.

But nothing made me prepare for the moment I perceived the scent of Lavender and Wildberries.

Nothing could have prepared me for the moment I realized that Lycan King Theron was my mate.

It had hit me like a thunder bolt from the blue the first time he entered the room.

My heart nearly stopped.

My body turned to ice.

The bond snapped into place like chains, tugging at my soul.

I wish I hadn't looked at his eyes because he realized that too.

Because he scowled.

There was no warmth in his gaze.

Not even a sliver of love.

Only… only disgust.

He covered his eyes with the back of his hand as he laughed. “You? You've got to be kidding me.”

I, too, felt the same way.

This was a mistake. It had to be. There had to be some error in fate but no matter how much I wished, the bond remained like a curse, constantly tugging at me.

He had grabbed my chin, his eyes piercing mine. Then he reached a hand to lift the veil hiding my scarred face.

I panicked.

“No!” I cried out. “Please —”

He didn't listen. He didn't need to because in the next second, the purple veil fell in a useless heap on the polished floor and my face, my hideous, disgusting face had been revealed.

Screams of horror reverberated the room and I shielded my face in my hands.

“Did you really think that the Moon Goddess would tie me to a thing like you? Hmm?” Theron said, gripping my wrist.

“No…” I replied, my voice shaking.

I struggled to keep my face hidden in my palm but Theron managed to peel my hand off my face and stared at me.

Then he hoisted me to my feet and dragged me with him.

“Your — Your Majesty, where are —” My question died on my tongue when I realized what was in front of me — my reflection.

Theron placed his hands on my shoulders, burying his sharp fingernails in my skin. “Do you think a person with that kind of face befits me?”

My body trembled. My soul was crushed. I had died 10 times over in 4 seconds.

“Think again.” Theron moved away from me and slithered back to where he came from.

When his retreating footsteps echoed no longer, I covered my face with my hands and ran to pick up my veil.

Shocking gasps and whispers filled the room as I moved but I didn't care. I needed it. No. I wanted to get out of there. And fast.

My hands reached the veil and I bolted.

As I wore the veils, tears slipped down my cheeks.

I cried not only because of the humiliation or the whispers that followed me out of the hall but because despite everything that had happened, the mate bond still tugged at my heart.

After discovering that I was his mate, I feared Theron would get rid of me but he didn't. Instead, he made me his plaything.

Theron didn't care to mark me or claim me as his and when I protested, he never let me go either.

That monster found pleasure in my suffering. He hurt me with his hands and his words and yet, after the pain and the tears, my traitorous heart and body still ached for him.

And I despised myself for it.

I was a broken, bruised girl with the man who destroyed her.

But not anymore.

Not when I found out I was pregnant.

The moment the healer whispered those words to me, I felt something bloom inside of me — hope. It was a fragile, desperate kind of hope, but at least it made my heart flutter. Maybe, this child, our child, would change everything.

I couldn't hold the news to myself.

I decided to tell Theron.

I told myself he would care.

That he would love me.

That he would finally make me his.

But before I reached his door, I heard a melodious laugh.

I sneaked a peek through the visible crack in the door.

The woman he was with was perfect. She was beautiful, strong and everything a Luna should be. Everything I wasn't.

“Am I worthy of you, Theron?” She said, trailing kisses down his neck.

His hand dug into her hair and he groaned softly. “Oh, darling. You are worthy of me, Cammila.”

Camilla?

Her name was Cammila.

I watched him call her sweet names. I heard him call her his queen.

“You are worthy.”

Those words cut me deeper than any wound.

My fingers curled into tiny fists and I turned away from the hideous face.

As I walked to my bedroom and my hand rose to touch my stomach, over my small life growing inside of me.

For the first time in my life, I prayed.

Not for Theron's love

Not for my place in this horrible pack.

I prayed for strength to rise from the ashes and the power to make everyone who hurt me, die the death of a thousand suns.