THE ALPHAS LOST LUNA

Chapter 3

HEAVENS POV

The first thing I knew was that I was alive. The second was that I had absolutely no idea where I was.

I opened my eyes to a ceiling of dark wooden beams and stayed still for a few seconds, trying to decide if this was a dream I hadn’t managed to wake from. The room smelled of old wood, dried herbs, stone, and something metallic underneath it all, faint enough to remind me of blood without actually smelling like it. Somewhere beyond the walls a fire cracked softly, followed by the low groan of wind pressing against the house.

I tried to sit up. Pain tore through my temple so sharply that I dropped back against the pillow with a sharp breath.

“Ah, shit.”

“Good. You’re awake.”

The unfamiliar voice came from somewhere near the door. A man stood there watching me. He was broad-shouldered, probably somewhere in his forties, with dark hair streaked with gray at the temples and a pale scar disappearing beneath the collar of his black shirt. There was nothing particularly threatening about the way he stood, which somehow made him more threatening. He looked like the kind of man who didn’t need to announce what he could do because everyone else had already figured it out.

I pushed myself upright more carefully this time. “Where the f**k am I?”

His eyebrows lifted. “Would you calm down? I literally helped you.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“No, but it does make your welcome considerably less hostile.”

I stared at him. He stared back. For some reason that made me want to laugh, but my head hurt too much to give him the satisfaction. Instead I looked around the room properly. It was enormous compared to my bedroom at home, with stone walls, narrow windows hidden behind heavy curtains, a massive fireplace, and dark furniture that looked old enough to have survived several wars. Faded tapestries covered parts of the walls, and a thick rug lay beneath the bed.

I glanced down at myself and stopped. I was wearing a gray shirt that definitely wasn’t mine. My boots were gone. So was my bag.

“Where are my clothes?”

“Your clothes were torn.”

“And my bag? My phone? My knife?”

That earned the faintest hint of amusement. “All safe.”

“At least something around here is.”

He folded his arms. “You hit your head. You were unconscious for almost four hours.”

Four hours. My mind went straight to Kael. The mate bond was still there, faint but unmistakable, stretched painfully thin between us. I could feel his panic moving through it, the frantic edge of someone searching for something he couldn’t find. He was looking for me. Of course he was. He’d finally noticed. The thought was bitter enough that I pushed it away.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood. The floor was freezing beneath my bare feet.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

The man actually laughed. Not loudly. Just once, under his breath, like I’d said something particularly stupid.

I turned. “What?”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“Watch me.”

“You can barely stand.”

“I can stand perfectly fine.” I took one step. My head throbbed. I grabbed the bedpost. He waited. I hated him a little for that.

“Fine,” I muttered, sitting back down. “Maybe perfectly fine was generous.”

“That was my impression.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Who are you?”

“Ronan. For now.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’re asking questions faster than I can decide which answers won’t make you run straight back into the forest.”

“I already ran into the forest.”

“Yes. I found you unconscious in it.” He crossed the room and pulled a chair away from the wall before sitting opposite me. Up close I could see more scars along his hands, old ones, faded enough that they had become part of him.

“How did you find me?”

“I was looking for you.”

“Why?”

“Because I knew you were there.”

“That makes even less sense.”

“I know.”

“Then try harder.”

For the first time, something almost resembling amusement appeared in his eyes. “You have your father’s patience.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It means he was terrible at waiting for answers too.”

My expression changed before I could stop it. “You knew my father?”

“Yes. Well enough.”

“That is not a measurement.”

“No. It’s a warning.”

I studied him. He wasn’t avoiding the question exactly. He was choosing how much of it to give me, and that bothered me more than a straight refusal would have.

“What happened in the forest?”

“You tell me.”

“I don’t know.”

“That makes two of us. I found you beneath the trees. You were unconscious, you’d hit your head, and the ground around you was scorched. There was no fire.”

I looked at my hands. The silver pulse beneath my skin stirred almost as if it had heard him. Ronan noticed. His attention shifted to my fingers.

“You can still feel it. The energy. The thing that nearly scared the s**t out of you.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know yet. I know what I saw. I don’t know what it is.”

That answer was strangely reassuring. At least he wasn’t pretending to have every answer just because he was the mysterious man living in a creepy stone house.

“Then why bring me here?”

“Because leaving you in the forest would have been irresponsible.”

“You could have taken me to the pack.”

“No.” The answer came quickly enough to make me pause.

“Why?”

Ronan’s expression hardened. “Because people are looking for you. People who believe your family died twenty years ago. And if the wrong ones find out you’re still breathing, they won’t stop at asking questions.”

“But my parents are alive. They are alive and they are okay.”

“No. Those are not your real parents.”