The Moonstone Curse

What lies in the unknown

Livia POV

I wake up in a cold, damp cell, the musty stench of mildew clinging to the air. My head throbs, pulsing in sync with my heartbeat.

Gritting my teeth, I reach for the back of my head, fingertips grazing the source of the pain. A shiver snakes down my spine when I feel the sticky warmth of blood. Wincing, I pull strands of my platinum hair over my shoulder and examine the crimson stain, now dark and half-dried.

The cell is suffocating, just four walls of stone, cracked and dripping with moisture. Moonlight filters weakly through a tiny grated window, casting a silver glow over the floor. Stagnant water has pooled in one corner, its surface reflecting a distorted shimmer. The chill of the air seeps into my bones, making every breath visible in the cold.

I sit up slowly, fighting the dizziness that threatens to pull me back under. My body protests the movement, sore from the hours—or days—of unconsciousness. The realization hits me hard: I’m trapped, alone, at the mercy of the Whitefangs.

Footsteps echo down the corridor, drawing closer. The iron door screeches open, revealing him—the devil himself. The iron door to my cell groans and chatters open, revealing the silhouette of the devil himself. His presence exudes a malevolent energy, a darkness that seems to emanate from his very core.

“Since your father did not want you to mate with my son, I was going to make you his servant as a punishment,” his voice slithers through the air, dripping with contempt. He draws nearer, his imposing figure kneeling down to bring his malevolent gaze level with mine. The stench of his breath,putrid like decaying fish, invades my nostrils, and I fight the urge to gag.

“But after your late attempt to escape my guards, you will be less than that.” Memories of me killing one of his guards as they were ushering my pack into prison cells flood my mind.

“You will be consigned to his breeding room. A mere vessel for his offspring.” His lips curl into a sneer of disgust. “Get a good night’s rest, princess. Tomorrow, your name, title, and rank will be stripped from you. You will be nothing more than a whore.”

He delivers a swift kick to my stomach. Pain explodes through my abdomen, but I refuse to cry out. I curl into a ball, trembling but silent. He leans closer, his sickening whisper brushing my ear.

“The first breeding, my dear princess, will happen before the watchful eyes of the entire guard. I anticipate your resistance; what a show it will be.”

********

"Livia, I'm Scarlett, the head Omega." Her voice cuts through the fog in my mind. A blinding light shines in my eyes as the male doctor examines me. Scarlett’s figure hovers behind him, her tone sharp and commanding.

"First, I want to assure you, your pack is adjusting well. They’ve been treated like our Omegas, and I’ll make sure they’re treated fairly—if you cooperate."

I muster a weak nod, though everything feels hazy. My mind is muddled, and I can’t remember how I ended up here. The last thing I recall is sleeping on the cold, hard cell floor—not this bed, with its plush pillows and soft sheets.

The doctor snaps his medical bag shut and gives Scarlett a curt nod.

"Second, I need to explain how breeding works…" Her words blur for a moment, but when they sink in, dread pools in my stomach.

Breeding. This room is for breeding.

Scarlett gestures around, but I’m too disoriented to follow. “You’ll be assigned to the future Alpha. No one else will touch you. This ensures there are no complications with the bloodline.”

She points at the doors in the room. "That one leads to his chambers, where he’ll have access to you at all times. The second is your bathroom. The third, your closet. He may call on you outside the castle as well. You will obey."

She strolls over, settling herself on the bed beside me. "Now, I need to gather some information," she says, her eyes focused on the clipboard she holds, scanning the contents of the paper. "When was your last cycle?” Her question hangs in the air, unanswered by me. There's a brief pause, and then she looks up at me. "Ms. Livia, I'm the one responsible for ensuring your pack is treated fairly. If I can't fulfill my duties, I tend to redirect that frustration elsewhere. If you're willing to cooperate, then so am I."

I swallow hard, my mind racing. "Two weeks ago," I whisper.

“Good.” She jots down my response on her clipboard and then moves forward. "s****l preference?" she inquires.

"Men, I suppose," I answer.

"How long ago was the last time you bred?" Her question is direct, prying into the most intimate corners of my life.

My face burns with embarrassment. I look down at my hands, trying to hide my shame. "I haven’t," I whisper. "I’ve never had sex."

It's true; the night of my birthday was meant to mark the beginning of the bonding process with Emery. But fate twisted, sparing me the act. In some strange way, I'm relieved I didn't have to share that moment with him. Yet, the idea of being intimate with a Whitefang is a gut-wrenching alternative.

Her eyes narrow, but she rises, satisfied with the answer. "In that case, there’s no need for further questioning."

Relief floods me. “So… they won’t force me to…”

Scarlett chuckles, shaking her head. "No, dear. It just means I won’t subject you to a physical examination. As for breeding—you have no choice."

The guard enters moments after Scarlett leaves, chains clinking as he approaches. He unfastens the restraints from my bedpost, yanking me to my feet. “The future Alpha awaits,” he growls, dragging me through the door.

The floor is cold beneath my bare feet, the stone unforgiving as a cruel kick to the back of my knees sends me sprawling onto the floor. “Stay like this,” the guard sneers. 'If he doesn't desire you at this moment, he'll send you back to your room. Every door is bolted shut, no escape. The Alpha wanted me to remind you that your actions determine your pack's fate," he warns with a venomous edge before storming out, leaving me kneeling in his wake.

He leaves, locking the door behind him.

I sit on my knees for what feels like hours. My body aches, my mind numb. As the thought of returning to my room starts to take shape, a faint click reaches my ears – the lock to the door.

A figure steps into the room, towering over me like some ancient god carved from the mountains themselves. He’s all raw power and untamed masculinity—broad shoulders tapering into a narrow waist, his skin bronzed from the sun and glistening with sweat. His chest rises and falls with each steady breath, muscles rippling beneath his skin as if the earth itself forged him. His hair, dark and wild, cascades to his shoulders, framing a strong, angular face that seems untouched by civilization. A thick beard traces his jawline, giving him a primal, rugged edge that sets him apart from the clean-shaven men I’ve known.

But it’s his eyes—those fierce, molten emeralds—that seize me, like a predator locking onto its prey. They gleam with untamed intensity, as though they could pierce through my soul. Everything about him screams power, danger, and something undeniably alluring. He is a force of nature, raw and unyielding, the embodiment of a wolf untamed by any pack. A man built by the wild, commanding the room without a word, and every instinct in me roars in response.

“Mate.” My wolf's voice echoes in my mind, a haunting proclamation that leaves me baffled.

I tilt my head, my bewilderment evident. Mate? How is that even possible?

His emerald stone eyes watch my movements carefully. He begins to stalk towards me, his movements deliberate, predator-like. Like prey under the scrutiny of a relentless hunter, I rotate with his every step, my eyes never wavering from his piercing gaze.

I cannot take my eyes off of his. They are so beautiful and holds even my breath hostage.

“Name?” he demands, his voice cold and harsh.

My voice deserts me, stolen away like a mermaid's song by a sea monster. My mouth feels parched as if the desert winds have sucked away all moisture, leaving my lips cracked and stinging. Still ensnared by his gaze, I watch as he lowers himself to kneel in front of me, our faces now at eye level. I catch the lingering warmth of the sun's burn still kissing his skin.

“Mate.” My wolf's call resonates again, thrashing through my mind like a tropical storm, its significance heavy with implications.

His scent fills the space between us—earth, sweat, and something unmistakably Alpha.

“What's your name, Stray?” The threat in his voice remains, although softened as if he's attempting to temper his authority. His face is contoured with such hate, yet his eyes are filled with hope, something foreign in the dangers of this new world.

"Livia," I whisper, my voice scarcely louder than a breath, the sound almost lost between us. His ears twitch as if straining to catch my words.

His eyes flash, a fleeting glimpse of his inner wolf surfacing, yearning to make a connection. Swiftly, he regains control, the proximity between us drawing me in.

"I have no intention of mating with you, Livia. Return to your chambers—immediately." His words cut through the haze, their finality casting a weighty shadow over the air.