Alpha's Luna

Chapter Five Cracks and Realization. Selene

The thing about Ironfang’s meals? They’re… stingy. Not bad, exactly - there’s seasoning, there’s texture, there’s even a bit of meat if the stars align - but the portions are the kind of delicate servings you’d give a lapdog, not a living, breathing wolf. By my third evening here, I’m certain of one thing: if I don’t take matters into my own hands, I’ll starve.

And starvation is not on my to-do list.

So, while the fortress hums with the muted sounds of warriors training outside, I follow the smell of smoke and herbs down into the kitchens. The maids spot me immediately, wide-eyed like I’m a ghost that just appeared in the wrong corridor.

“Luna?” one whispers, wringing her apron. “You … you’re not supposed to …”

“Supposed to what?” I arch a brow. “Eat?”

“No, of course not, but… not here.”

Another maid, plumper and braver, steps forward, lowering her voice. “The Alpha will not like it if you—if you… cook.” The word drops out of her mouth like a sin.

I almost laugh. “Relax. I’m not about to poison him. I just want to make something edible before I waste away.”

They shift nervously as I roll up my sleeves, scanning the shelves like it’s my childhood kitchen all over again. Bread flour. Salt. Dried herbs. And - oh, thank the moon - smoked venison. My stomach growls so loudly I swear the walls vibrate.

“You’ll ruin the meal,” the first maid frets, fluttering around me. “Please, Luna, the Alpha will be furious if …”

“Then he can take it up with me,” I cut in, tugging the venison down from its hook. “You don’t need to worry about your jobs. If he gets mad, I’ll tell him I threatened you into silence with a wooden spoon.”

Their jaws drop. Mine quirks in satisfaction. I haven’t felt this alive since leaving Finn.

The pan hisses as I lay the venison strips down. I add onions, sprinkle herbs, stir with quick, practiced movements. The rhythm comes back easily, like it always does. Cooking was survival back home - feeding Finn, making something hearty out of scraps the Council left us.

And now, in the middle of enemy stone walls, it feels… comforting. Like I’ve snuck a piece of Moonveil here with me.

For a moment, as I stir, I see Finn in my mind - perched on a stool too big for him, chin in his hands, watching me like I’m casting spells instead of cooking stew.

“You’re the best cook in the world,” he’d always say.

And I’d always answer, “That’s because you’re the hungriest eater in the world.”

The memory hits like a blade wrapped in velvet. My throat tightens, but I keep stirring. I’m not crying in front of these maids. No way.

When the food’s done, I plate it generously!!! Emphasis on generously. This isn’t some Council luncheon; this is an actual meal. I pile my dish high, then pause.

Kaine. I chew the inside of my cheek. He’ll probably roll his eyes, maybe refuse it altogether. But some twisted part of me—it says I should bring him a plate. Call it diplomacy. Or maybe I’m just curious what the Wraith of the West does when someone serves him instead of the other way around.

The maids nearly faint when I hand them a second plate and ask them to help me carry both. “Luna, the Alpha —”

“Relax,” I say, balancing my own plate like a crown jewel. “Worst case, he growls and I get to tell him off for wasting food. Win-win.”

By the time we reach his chambers, the news has clearly outrun us. Guards glance sidelong. Maids whisper. Someone actually gasps when they see me holding plates. For a second, it’s hilarious. All this scandal over a woman with dinner.

The door to his chambers creaks open, and Kaine himself looks up from his desk. Papers, maps, weapons—his usual spread. His storm-grey eyes flick from me to the maids to the plates.

“What,” he says flatly, “is this?”

“Dinner,” I answer sweetly, sweeping past the threshold. “You’ve heard of it, right?”

The maids nearly drop the plates in their panic, but I stride forward, set one down in front of him, and gesture like a royal servant. “Your meal, Alpha. Compliments of the… what’s the phrase? Oh yes—the bride you didn’t want.”

One of the maids stifles a squeak. Kaine stares at me, the corner of his mouth twitching like he can’t decide between fury or amusement. Finally, he gestures to the table.

“Set it down.”

They scurry to obey. I balance my own plate in hand, ready to bolt to my chambers. My stomach is clawing at itself—I need food. But before I can turn, Kaine’s voice cuts through.

“Stay, and dine with me”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“Set your plate. Sit.” His eyes narrow. “You cooked it. You eat it here.”

The maids freeze like rabbits. I, on the other hand, squint. He doesn’t sound angry. Just… stubborn. Commanding, as always.

But my stomach is louder than my pride. I set my plate down opposite him. “Fine. But don’t complain when I out-eat you.”

The maids set the dishes, bow, and practically run for their lives when Kaine waves them off. The door shuts. Silence thickens, broken only by the scrape of cutlery.

Kaine takes his first bite, jaw working slowly. His brows lift - just slightly. “Not bad.”

“Careful,” I say, stabbing into my own pile of venison and bread. “If you hand out compliments too freely, people might think you have feelings.”

That almost earns me a smile. Almost.

Then, as I’m mid-bite, he looks at my plate. His fork pauses. His storm-grey eyes flick from his modest portion to my towering one.

“Moon above,” he mutters. “Are you trying to get pregnant with food?”

I choke on my bite and dissolve into laughter. Real, unrestrained laughter that makes my ribs ache. “This? This is a normal meal size. What you people serve is bird food.”

For the first time, Kaine actually laughs. Not just a low grunt, but a sharp, sudden sound like the c***k of a shield. It startles me enough that I just… stare.

“You think the warriors of Ironfang are birds?” he asks.

“If the shoe fits.” I gesture at his plate. “That portion wouldn’t keep Finn alive for an hour, much less a full-grown wolf. Honestly, I’m doing you a favor - keeping you from wasting away.”

He leans back in his chair, still holding his fork, eyes glinting like steel in sunlight. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re uptight,” I shoot back, mouth full. “We can’t all be broody statues with biceps the size of tree trunks. Some of us need fuel to function.”

He exhales; half laugh, half growl, and shakes his head. “You’re nothing like I expected.”

I swallow and grin. “Good. Expectations are boring.”

For a while, we eat in a kind of companionable silence, broken only by his occasional glance at my plate like he still can’t believe the mountain of food I’m demolishing. And for the first time since arriving here, the fortress doesn’t feel quite so much like a cage.

It feels… warm.

Like maybe, just maybe, I could survive this place.

Interlude – The Rivals

The mountains east of Ironfang crackle with firelight. In the hollow of a ruined watchtower, wolves gather—men and women draped in dark hides, their eyes glinting amber in the night. The sigil of Ravenhowl—a bloodied clawmark—hangs above them, swaying in the smoke.

Alpha Dagon leans forward in his chair, teeth flashing as he gnaws on a strip of dried meat. His voice is gravel, amused and venomous all at once.

“So… it’s true, then. The Wraith of the West has taken a mate.”

The murmurs rise around the circle. A handful of warriors shift uncomfortably; others bare their teeth in crooked smiles.

“She’s not just any mate,” one of the scouts says, bowing his head. “An Omega. From Moonveil. Young. Rare.”

At that, Dagon laughs—a harsh, barking sound that bounces off the stone walls. “An Omega bride for Kaine Duskbane. Imagine that. The Council must be desperate if they’re selling girls into his cage now.”

A woman to his right, tall and scarred, clicks her tongue. “Desperation makes them sloppy. Omegas are meant to be soft. Submissive. She won’t last a moon in his fortress.”

“Unless she’s something else,” Dagon counters, his eyes narrowing to slits. “They say she has Moon-Blood in her veins. Old blood. Power that hasn’t been seen since the last rebellion.”

The circle falls quiet. Even the fire seems to lean in closer.

Another warrior clears his throat. “If it’s true… if she carries that kind of power, then she isn’t just Kaine’s weakness. She could be ours. A weapon. Or a prize.”

Dagon’s grin widens, sharp as broken glass. “A prize, indeed. The Alpha of Ironfang may not care for his little bride, but others will. Imagine what we could do with her—her body, her power, her bond. Ironfang would crumble from the inside.”

The woman scoffs. “You’re assuming Kaine even lets her out of her chambers. He guards what’s his. Always has.”

“He guards territory,” Dagon corrects, slamming his fist on the table. “Not hearts. That’s why this is amusing. The great warlord with a mate he never wanted. And if the whispers are right, she’s not cowed. She talks back. She resists.”

The scarred woman tilts her head, curiosity flickering in her gaze. “Then maybe she won’t need much convincing to turn on him.”

Dagon leans back, satisfied. “Exactly. We don’t have to break Ironfang with claws. We can break them with whispers. If the Omega bends, Kaine will break. And if she doesn’t…” His grin twists into something cruel. “Then we take her, and Ironfang burns either way.”

The fire spits sparks into the night, and the Ravenhowl wolves howl low and long. Beyond the walls of the ruined tower, the forest shivers, as if it knows the storm is coming.

By the time we finish the last scraps of venison, I’m so full I could collapse onto the table and nap. Kaine, of course, looks like he could eat the same amount twice over and still spar for hours. Typical Alpha metabolism.

I stand to leave, muttering thanks more to my plate than to him, when his voice rumbles low: “You surprised me tonight.”

I glance over my shoulder. His grey eyes are unreadable, stormclouds refusing to break. “That’s what I do,” I say lightly. “Shock, confuse, and mildly offend.”

A ghost of a smile touches his lips, then vanishes. But it lingers in my mind long after I return to my chambers.

---

Later, when the fortress quiets and the moon climbs high, the itch starts beneath my skin. It’s been gnawing at me since I crossed into this territory—an ache that builds with every breath of Ironfang’s air.

Shifting.

Back home, I rarely let myself change. Omegas weren’t encouraged to run beneath the moon. We were meant to be graceful, contained. Shifting was… messy. Animal. Powerful. Everything the Council hated us to be.

But here, in these mountains, the moon feels closer. Wilder. Demanding.

I slip from my chambers, barefoot, heart pounding. No guards stop me. No one notices as I pad across the courtyard and out into the trees.

The forest swallows me whole. Cold air fills my lungs. My skin prickles, bones stretching, tendons pulling. Then—release.

My wolf bursts free.

She’s smaller than an Alpha’s, sure, but sleek, fast, glowing faintly under the moonlight. Her coat is ash-blonde like my hair, streaked silver at the tips, catching the starlight like frost.

For the first time in weeks, I feel alive.

I run. Through branches, over rocks, paws striking earth in a rhythm older than language. The forest hums around me, recognizing me. Claiming me.

But shifting has its cost. By the time I stumble back toward the clearing, the change ripples again, tearing me back into skin and bone. I collapse, gasping, naked in the dirt. Vulnerable. Exposed.

Branches c***k. A heavy step.

I freeze.

Kaine.

He emerges from the trees, dark hair loose, eyes glowing wolf-bright in the shadows. He doesn’t look surprised to see me. More like he knew I’d be here all along.

My arms fold instinctively over my chest, though modesty feels pointless under his gaze. “Were you following me?”

“Watching,” he says simply, voice low, unreadable.

“Creep.”

He doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he takes a step closer, then another, until the heat of his body cuts through the night chill. His gaze drags over me—not with hunger, not exactly, but with something sharper. Curious. Guarded.

“You’re different,” he murmurs.

“From what?” My voice cracks despite myself.

“From what they said you’d be. From what I thought you’d be.”

I bite back a sarcastic retort. Something about his tone stills me.

He crouches, his shadow long over my skin, and brushes dirt from my arm with fingers that are far too gentle for a man who’s broken enemies in half. The touch sends a jolt through me, wild and terrifying.

I force a laugh. “Careful. Keep looking at me like that, and people might think you’re human.”

His jaw flexes, but his eyes don’t leave mine. “And what do you think I am?”

The question is dangerous, sharp as a blade. My breath hitches, my mind scrambling between honesty and defense.

“I think,” I say finally, “you’re a man who builds walls so high he doesn’t realize he’s trapped inside them.”

Silence. Heavy. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. Just studies me like I’ve spoken something no one’s dared to before.

Then, abruptly, he rises, towering above me again. His face shutters closed, expression unreadable. “Get dressed. The forest isn’t safe.”

And just like that, he turns, striding back toward the fortress without waiting for me.

But I saw it. For one heartbeat, one c***k in the stone, his eyes softened when they met mine.

And I can’t unsee it.

Kaine’s back is already disappearing into the trees when I push myself upright. My legs are trembling, the aftermath of shifting still buzzing through my veins. I take a step—and pain lances up my ankle.

“Shit.”

I wobble, try again, and my foot catches on a root. The world tilts. I hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs.

The sound makes him stop.

He turns, eyes narrowing in the shadows, and strides back toward me with that infuriating, predatory grace of his.

“I told you the forest isn’t safe,” he growls, crouching beside me.

“I tripped,” I snap, embarrassed heat flooding my face. “Not exactly an ambush.”

His gaze flicks to my ankle. His hand is on me before I can protest, fingers brushing over the joint with surprising gentleness. The touch burns—hot, electric, like sparks under my skin.

“Sprained,” he mutters. His voice is rough, but his hands are careful. He presses lightly, testing, and I hiss.

“Congratulations, doctor,” I grit out. “What’s the treatment? Leaving me here to be one with the moss?”

He exhales through his nose, sharp, impatient. Then, without warning, he slips an arm under my knees and another behind my back.

I gasp as he lifts me clean off the ground like I weigh nothing. “Wait—what are you—”

“Carrying you,” he says flatly, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I can walk.”

“You can barely stand.”

The warmth of his chest seeps into my skin. His heartbeat is steady, thunderous. My own traitor heart races to match it. I shift in his hold, trying to make it less… intimate, but the movement only presses me closer.

“Put me down, Kaine,” I mutter. “This is humiliating.”

“Then stop tripping.” His tone is so dry I almost choke.

“Wow,” I say, glaring up at him. “That’s your bedside manner? Remind me never to get fatally injured around you.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. Not a smile. But close.

We move through the trees in silence, his strides long and steady. My face warms every time I catch the line of his jaw in the moonlight—sharp, unyielding, carved like he’s some ancient warrior statue that accidentally learned how to breathe.

“You don’t have to carry me all the way,” I mumble, more to distract myself than anything.

“Yes,” he says simply. “I do.”

And the way he says it—low, final—sends a strange flutter through my chest.