Semua Bab The Luna Lives Again: Bab 1 - Bab 10

I didn't care about my friend who was still babbling on to me while I did my usual paperwork because only one thing stood out to me. So much so that I yelped and stood up excitedly, nearly knocking over a stack of files. "He's coming back!" I blurted, the words bursting out of me like I'd been holding my breath for three whole months. Tanya, who'd been rambling about pack logistics and military supply chains and all the mundane details I'd forced myself to care about in Jason's absence, froze mid-sentence. Her eyes widened, then her lips curled into a grin that, for once, felt like a small warmth in this ice-cold house. "Oh my god," she gasped, clasping her hands. "Jason has been away from home for three months, and he's finally coming back. You can make up for your honeymoon." I couldn't hide my happiness. My husband — well, not exactly my childhood friend but someone I'd known from afar, our families only known of each other — we'd been chosen for each other by the Moon Goddess

Getting through that heat was a breeze for me. For a normal full werewolf it would've been hell — rolling around on the floor, scratching at the walls, crying for relief from anybody and anything. But luckily I wasn't normal. It wasn't my fault my mother never told anyone she was a witch. If the pack had known, they'd have exiled her, maybe even killed her due to some very old beliefs. The only reason I ever found out was because I read her diaries when she died, before my father threw out everything that reminded him of her. No one ever asked about it either. They just saw me as the pitiful Luna without a wolf — the oracle's charity case. They never guessed I inherited her power, or that it awakened years ago, or that I've secretly been using it. I never trusted anyone in this pack enough to say anything. Not even Tanya. I might have told Jason once... but after last night, I saw my situation for exactly what it was. I should've been writhing in agony from their mating — that's

Sleeping in the woods felt better than I could have imagined. It was freeing in a way that made me question why I'd ever forced myself to stay in that suffocating house for so long. The night air was damp and the ground was cold and unforgiving, but I didn't mind. It was quiet. I could hear the wind and my own thoughts and nothing else. No whispers behind my back. No knives hidden in smiles. No footsteps pacing outside my bedroom door. I wondered, as I lay there with my hood pulled over my eyes and my arms folded beneath my head, how much freer I'd feel if I just kept walking. If I stepped past the border of this pack's territory and never looked back. It's not like anyone was going to come find me and drag me home. Not to keep me safe, anyway. Maybe to punish me, but not to save me. That house already decided what I was — poisoner, punching bag, curse, scapegoat. They could choke on that story for all I cared. When the sun started to peek through the canopy, I stood up and brushed

Jason's hands were rougher than I expected when he yanked that extravagant gown back onto my shoulders. The silk felt cold against my skin — cold and sticky, clinging where I was still sweaty and in pain from what we'd just done. I stood there in the half-light of the big ceremonial tent, the soft glow of lanterns flickering off the gold embroidery. My hair clung to my cheeks. I didn't even know how to fix it. Maybe I didn't want to. I didn't even know how I was supposed to feel. My chest felt raw, scraped out, like someone had carved something out of me. Was that normal? Was it supposed to feel so terrible when you did something so private with someone? Or was it just me? "Hey Jason?" I asked, my voice wobbling even though I tried to steady it. I tugged the gown up around my chest, clutched it there like it might protect me. "What was that?" He was standing by the little washbasin, shoving his belt back through the loops of his pants, his back to me like I was nothing more than a

I woke up to a headache made of blinding sunlight. It wasn't the soft kind, the kind that warmed your skin in the morning. No, this was sterile and harsh, beaming down from panels in the ceiling that made my eyes sting and my temples throb. The walls were so white they looked radioactive. It smelled like metal, antiseptic, and lemon-something cleaner that couldn't quite mask the sting of bleach. My throat was dry. My limbs felt heavy. Something cold and plastic tugged at my arm. I looked down and blinked at the thin tube piercing my skin. What the hell? Why was there a wire in my arm? I started to sit up but instantly regretted it. The back of my head pulsed, and the world tilted a little too far to the left. I clutched the stiff blanket and froze when I heard someone shift beside me. "Hey, you woke up?" came a soft voice. I flinched so hard I nearly ripped the wire out. "Shit!" "Oops, I'm sorry, dear," Ms. Daisy said, raising her hands like I was a skittish cat and she didn't