To Be Loved By A Dying Moon God

Thalia

“No one gives a damn about your dumb-ass excuse, Thalia. Just get it done by tomorrow.”

Dylan’s voice cuts through the bar. A beta from the pack, barking orders like he owns the place, as he owns me.

But fair enough, he’s about to own me, and that’s why he seems so confident.

 I want to tell him not to talk loudly here. It’s my job, and I can’t lose it. But instead, I keep my head down, hands submerged in soapy water, washing cups I wish I could smash on his head.

“I will,” I say. That's all I say, it’s safer that way. 

But still, he doesn’t leave. I can feel his eyes on me. It’s sticky, almost crawling on my skin.

“Isn’t it just my luck that I’ve gotta marry you?”

I sigh, still not looking up, but I want to scream that I don’t want this either.

 Who would want to just be told by the authorities of the pack that they were getting married in a month to the most useless man in the pack? I know that it’s my fate to suffer, but couldn’t they just leave me be and let me suffer in peace rather than adding someone like Dylan into it? 

But I guess that’s the whole idea of oppressing the poor, making them suffer endlessly. 

Rage coils tight in my chest. It’s been bubbling there for a while now, but I swallow it. Rage only buys me pain.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “You could talk to Gerald. He can reassign you. You could marry someone else.”

He reacts like I’ve slapped him. His eyes squeeze shut. His face twists.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You think you are shit?”

“I was just making a suggestion.” I keep my voice flat, careful not to sound sarcastic.

“Is that a snide remark?”

“No,” I wave quickly.

I lift the clean cups, my arms already aching.

And when I look up, it’s the first time I have seen him clearly this week, even though he has made sure to harass me about something every day. I feel something that was never allowed to grow stir in disgust. My wolf is weak. Practically nonexistent. But this hatred for Dylan doesn’t need claws.

Dylan should be my age, but looks older than twenty-nine. Bullying does that to people. It rots them from the inside.

If life were fair, I’d have a fated mate and a perfect life of being the better member of this pack.

Instead, I lost my parents, became the bottom of the pack, and have to marry him.

“You’re cleaning the entire apartment,” he commands. “And it needs to be ready in two days. The wedding’s in two weeks.”

“I can’t,” I reply. “I work most of the time.”

“And I’m busy most of the time.”

Busy doing what? He doesn’t have a job. Since the announcement of this marriage, he has forced me to rent out an apartment for us from my savings.

 He has harassed me into trying to furnish it as well, and I am beginning to see that I might have looked a little too ambitious for the authorities of the pack to fix Dylan’s problem of not being able to take care of himself by assigning him as my future husband.

“Then you’ll have to wait,” I say instead. “I’ll make sure to clean it before the wedding.”

He scoffs. “And by the way, why won’t you accept an engagement ring?”

“I don’t need one. I’d rather just get married instead.”

“Well, your choice. I made you look like you’re worth a lot, but you said no.Back to the furniture you ordered,” he continues, pacing now, “not that I don’t appreciate it, but it looks like it won’t hold any weight.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s flimsy. We’re going to have people over. Friends. It’s embarrassing.”

Oh, fuck off!

Then, like a knife wrapped in politeness, he continued.

“I know you paid for the apartment. And the furniture. I know that wasn’t easy. But maybe you could return it and buy something… better.”

I stand there, scratching the back of my head, calculating every word. I want to tell him to fuck off, but I can’t. One wrong tone and this turns into something worse for me. I want a quiet life for the rest of the year.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” I say carefully. “But there’s space for more furniture. You could buy more later if you want.”

His face hardens.

“So now you’re calling me useless?”

My eyebrows lift, panic spiking. “What? No. When did I—”

“Don’t fucking play dumb.”

I know what’s coming. I almost rolled my eyes.

I walk toward the bar island and set the cups down. I give my coworker a small nod of apology. They have seen way too much nonsense since this marriage thing started.

I walk out before he explodes inside and causes a scene.

His voice trails behind my back, growing louder with each sentence. I finally stop when I get outside.

“What did you say to me?” he snaps. “Do you have any idea how much effort it took, how humiliating it was, to agree to this wedding?”

I nod.

“I could’ve married someone I loved,” he continues. “I only did this because the Alphas ordered it. I sat there in disbelief when they said I had to marry you. Look at me. And look at you.”

He’s shouting now. I wish he wouldn’t. He can pass his hurtful message without causing a scene, but this is who Dylan is. The words themselves don’t hurt anymore. I learned a long time ago how to live with them. Being an omega teaches you that. It teaches you that hope is a luxury and survival is the goal.

“I’m sorry,” I say finally. My voice stays soft. “I’ll work harder. I’ll try to change the furniture.”

“And you’ll put the fucking ring on tomorrow,” he barks. “I want everyone to know you’re marrying me.”

“Yes. I will.”

“You better fucking behave.”

By the time he’s done, the entire bar area has emptied, people trooped into the street. This is not Dylan’s best crashout. Why do we have so many audiences?

I sigh and nod apologetically, murmuring sorry as I pass. My eyes catch my manager, Joe. I mouthed sorry again, and again. He doesn’t look angry. He looks… shaken. Like he’s just heard something he can’t forget.

For one terrible second, panic claws up my throat. I quickly look ahead. What if the Alphas are here? What if they heard him? Me?

I step closer to the crowd. Dylan still behind me, calling my name, oblivious as ever. His lack of awareness is almost impressive.

I shoot him a sideways look. He freezes, stunned, then charges toward me, anger flashing hot and familiar.

My heart jumps, but not from fear.

As he closes the distance, my patience finally snaps.

“Idiot,” I mutter slowly. “Look around you. Stop acting a fool”

He stops in his tracks like he had misheard, but I don’t wait. I turn and walk straight into the thick part of the crowd.

“What’s going on?” I ask a woman standing near me, her face pale and tight.

She lets out a shaky laugh. “It feels like we’re in some kind of prank.”

My stomach twists. Did an Alpha die?

But the way everyone looks, stricken and hunted, feels like an attack aimed at all of us.

“They said the Moon God has demanded a sacrifice again,” she continued quietly. “One of the betas just brought the news into the bar.”

My breath stutters. “A sacrifice?”

A deeper voice cuts in. Male. Older. “Kids like you never listen to history.”

I turn. He looks to be in his forties. What history does he know?

“Two hundred years ago,” he says, “we stopped sacrificing werewolves to the Moon God. He spoke through the priestess, saying it wasn’t necessary anymore. But look at us now. A lot has been happening. Weak full moons. Fading power, even Alpha’s aren’t that protective anymore.” His gaze sweeps the crowd. “We haven’t performed rituals in centuries. So now… one of you has to be sent to the Moon God.”

I want to call bullshit. I want to laugh in his face.

But no one else is laughing.

Someone murmurs that the Alpha told everyone to stay calm. To return to normal for now.

“How am I supposed to act normal,” a man shouts, “when I could be sacrificed?”

His fear is at least loud and visible. Mine is silent and far worse, who would be the sacrifice, if not the lowest person in the community,  I dare not make a sound for anyone to notice me.

My legs jerk without thinking. I back away from the crowd slowly, without thinking about anything else.

I shouldn’t be seen, or better, leave for the city. I should have done this a long time ago. Look who isn’t safe now.

How does this even work? Do they just take people? How many people does the moon god wants?

Why is the Moon God thirsty now when he wasn’t before?

I start running.

By the time I reached the apartment I was forced to rent, the one I slaved away for because of a wedding I never wanted, the sky was already darkening.

I throw clothes into a bag with my hands shaking. 

“Why didn’t you leave sooner? Why didn’t you choose yourself?” I muttered to myself.

I zip the bag and slip back outside, sticking to the narrowest, quietest paths. Not that it matters. The entire city feels eerily quiet today.

This rumor is real.

As I near the bus line, my chest tightens. Two figures step into view.

Dylan’s friends, the Alpha Damien’s lackey.

And my heart drops. I shake my head, blinking hard. This isn’t real. I’m imagining it.

I’m not.

They grab me. Lift me clean off the ground. Panic explodes in my chest just as I spot Dylan himself.

I expect him to be smiling. Taunting. Enjoying this.

He isn’t.

His face is wild, angry, and frantic.

“Leave her the fuck alone!” he shouts. “She’s engaged to me. She is not to be sacrificed!”

“No offense, bro. You chose to marry the spare person in the pack. Who else is gonna get sacrificed first?”

“I always wondered why you begged the Alpha to make your marriage to her possible. Poor you, widower!” another says

I scream, and then everything goes dark.

***

I try to open my eyes, but I can’t. I try to move. I can’t. My body is pinned, bound to something solid. My wrists ache. My ankles burn. There’s pressure around my eyes, it’s tight and suffocating.

It's a blindfold.

I force myself to stay still. To listen, to feel around.

But i can’t keep calm enough to feel around, everything feels so wrong right now, even the air feels wrong.

“Hello?” My voice cracks as it echoes back at me, I’m in the woods.

I am being sacrificed.

I twist my wrists, panic flaring hot and wild inside me. Maybe the Moon god will be late, if there’s even a second of mercy, maybe I can run. I can survive.

The rope loosens just enough.

I fight it until my hands slip free. I rip the blindfold off and suck in a shaky breath.

I’m tied to a jagged rock face in the middle of the woods.

And the moon—

The moon is wrong.

It’s the brightest I’ve ever seen. Huge and blinding. So vivid it feels alive, like it’s watching me back. This isn’t just a full moon.

I untie myself completely and sink to the ground, legs weak. Somewhere far away, the pack is probably sleeping peacefully, relieved and safe.

I should run.

But someone is walking toward me.

He’s framed perfectly by the moon, its light resting at the center of his head like a crown. For a moment, my mind can’t make sense of him. His shape shifts, from human, wolf, something in between, flickering so fast it makes my vision blur.

As it comes closer, the world seems to bend around it, and then it reveals itself. This has to be the Moon god…the hidden one, the god that no one never see but feels.

As he walked, the air seems to follow, he’s beautiful. Unfairly so, unfairly beautiful for someone who will kill me, but what do I expect from a god? His body seems to be carved by power, because how else do I explain this physique? All of his right arm shines in silver tattoos of cosmic power, his bare skin glowing silver beneath the moonlight. The only thing he wears is loose white linen trousers, fluttering with every step. The moon doesn’t just shine above him.

It follows him.

My chest tightens. My heartbeat is already through the roof.

And he comes closer. I see his face, his face—

It’s Radiant, Dark and Inhuman at the same time.

“It’s the fucking Moon God,” I whisper.

And with this dark energy?

Yes. I’m dying tonight.