He Drained His Luna to Save a Liar

At midnight, my soul rose out of the cellar and stopped beneath the stone ceiling. For a moment, I could still feel the cold of the slab below me. My body lay on the stone slab below, still warm and losing color. Caleb stood beside it, pulling a thick needle from my arm. His attention stayed on the bag filling his hand. He checked the seal, checked the amount, and never once looked at my face. A few minutes earlier, I had tried to pull free. “Caleb, please. No more. I’m dying.” “Ivy’s fever is back. Dr. Vance says she needs your blood. Now.” I told him my healing core was splitting. I told him one more full draw would finish it. He tightened his grip and called my shaking another jealous performance. Ivy was sick, he reminded me, and a Luna was supposed to put the pack before herself. To him, I was a blood supply that happened to wear the Luna’s title. He capped the needle and lifted the full bag toward the cellar light. The blood was dark and thick with healing power. His shoulders eased when he saw there was enough for Ivy. Near my hand, crushed obsidian glittered in the dust. The Blood-Tear Rune had been my last chance. Ancient law allowed a mate to summon it only when death was certain. The magic could not be triggered by jealousy, anger, or a wish to frighten someone. Once broken, it carried the dying mate’s terror and pain through the bond. Caleb had felt it. His grip had slipped for half a second. Then he looked down at me. “Another pathetic game, Serena? You think this will scare me?” He shut the bond between us. The wall hit so hard that I lost what little breath I had left, and the mate’s presence that had lived inside me for years disappeared. Then his boot came down on the rune. Obsidian snapped under his heel until my final warning was dust. He had received my dying plea and dismissed it. His steps faded up the stairs, slow and steady. He had no reason to hurry now that the blood was secure. Something vibrated in the pocket of my plain tunic. My phone lit beside my cooling hand. Ivy had sent a message. *[Thanks for the blood, Luna. Caleb says it’s the least you can do to repay your debt to me.]* That debt had bought Ivy her place in the pack. Caleb had believed every word of it. Above us, the Harvest Festival was starting. Music carried through the ceiling with laughter and the clink of glasses. The pack was celebrating a safe harvest and full storehouses. Both depended on wards that ran on my blood, refreshed after every storm and every breach. My body cooled while Caleb climbed toward the Great Hall with the blood bag in hand. He planned to strip me of my title in front of everyone because I had resisted one final transfusion. He had left my corpse in the cellar to do it.