The Bloodmoon Claim

Chapter Eight

Maya's POV:

I wake with a violent gasp. For a moment, I don't know where I am.

Slowly, I push myself up in a sitting position.

I look around. Brown wallpaper covers the walls, patterned with delicate green leaves. A wooden desk stands beside a tall window to my left, paired with a small cushioned chair that looks almost inviting. The curtains are drawn shut, heavy and dark red, but a thin blade of sunlight cuts through the gap, painting a warm line across the wooden floor.

The aesthetics are peaceful.

Suddenly, my chest tightens.

All the memories come flooding back.

The stage.

The chains.

The auction.

Him.

The man who bought me.

I scramble out of the bed, panic surging through me as I scan the room for exits, or weapons, anything useful. Only then do I realize that my clothes have changed.

I'm wearing grey sweatpants and a loose, oversized T-shirt. The clothes are clean, comfortable, and perfectly sized.

My stomach drops.

I definitely wasn't wearing this before.

Suddenly, the door gently opens.

Still, I spin around instantly. My back hits the desk as I retreat on pure instinct.

My hands curl into fists even though I know I wouldn't stand a chance if I tried to fight. My body already prepares for pain.

It's him. The man from the auction.

"Hello, Maya," he says calmly.

I say nothing. I barely breathe.

"I am Ulric Wolfhart," he continues. "You have been asleep for three days. Your body went into shock. Our pack doctor is here to examine you. We didn't expect you to be awake yet."

Three days?

My mind struggles to process what Ulric is saying, so I remain frozen.

Behind his large frame stands a shorter, older man with silver threaded through his hair. He is writing something on a clipboard. Ulric steps inside, and the older man follows immediately.

Neither of them rushes me. That almost makes my anxiety worse.

"Hi Maya," the older man says gently. "My name is Ryan Milton." His voice is soft. He almost sounds careful. He speaks as if I might shatter with a word.

"May I check your blood pressure?" He gestures toward the bed.

I don't move. Instead, my eyes drift back to Ulric without meaning to. I watch his face, and for some reason, I feel like I am waiting. Some broken part of me believes he is the one who decides what happens next.

He notices my hesitation.

"It's okay, Maya," he says softly. "Doctor Milton just wants to make sure that you are alright." He gestures toward the bed, too.

I obey.

Not because I trust him, but because I am afraid not to.

I sit slowly, expecting punishment for even the smallest hesitation. My arm trembles violently as the doctor lifts it. The shaking is impossible to hide. He pulls out a blood pressure monitor from his briefcase and wraps the cuff around my arm with extreme care.

He notices the trembling. Of course, he notices the trembling.

His eyes flick briefly to Ulric. Something passes between them. Something heavy.

Pity.

For me.

"Your blood pressure is very high," he says gently. "Severe stress response." I stare straight ahead while he checks my temperature, my eyes, and finally my ears. I feel like an object being inspected. A damaged product: someone is deciding whether to keep it.

What does he expect? I have been in flight-or-fight mode since, well, I don't even know what day it is.

"Maya," he says softly, "you need rest. Eat, too. You are malnourished. If you don't recover properly, your body may shut down again."

I say nothing. What is there to say?

"Alright, Doc," Ulric says quietly. "I'll take care of her." He gestures toward the door, as if understanding that two men in the room is too much.

Doctor Milton nods immediately, collects his briefcase, and leaves without another question.

The silence that follows feels enormous. I stare down at my hands. They won't stop shaking.

I want to go home.

The thought hits me like a physical blow.

Home.

Where is that now? Is home with the people who had sold me?

The rage starts to build in my stomach. I feel hot and suffocated.

I feel useless.

I can't run. I can't fight. I can't even scream.

I just want to lie down and die.

Before I even realize what is happening, tears start falling from my eyes.

I am crying. Really crying. Ugly crying.

Panic floods me immediately. I wipe my face frantically with my shirt.

Stop.

Stop before he gets angry.

Stop before he hurts you.

I look up into his eyes, I beg silently.

Please. I can't take the pain anymore.

Before I can even speak, Ulric steps closer and sits beside me. He pulls me into his arms, and I break completely.

The sobs tear out of me like something dying. I cry until my throat burns.

Until my eyes ache.

Until my stomach hurts from the force of it.

He does not interrupt me. He does not restrain me. He does not order me to stop.

He just holds me.

He lets me fall apart safely in his arms.

Eventually, the sobbing fades into shaking breaths and quiet sniffles. He pulls back gently and takes my hand.

"Maya, you need to eat. Would you like to come with me to the kitchen, or should I bring food here?"

I try to answer, but I can't.

It feels like my brain is full of fog. Choosing feels impossible. After a long silence, Ulric seems to understand.

"I'll bring something," he says softly.

He leaves.

I am alone. I try to breathe normally again.

In. Out. In. Out.

Slowly, the panic loosens its grip.

Then I hear something shatter somewhere.

"s**t," Ulric mutters.

A few minutes later, he returns carrying a tray.

Eggs, bacon, toast, and some greens.

The smell hits me.

Suddenly, I realize how starving I am.

I take the tray and start shoving food into my mouth, eating like an animal. I swallow fast, barely chewing. My survival instincts take cover. Within minutes, the plate is empty.

Only then do I realize he is watching me.

My eyes meet him when I look up from the tray.

He looks almost satisfied.

His hand lifts toward my face.

I jerk back instantly. Terror rushes through my body, and I begin breathing fast again.

"Sorry!" he says quickly. He pulls back both his hands. "There was butter on your cheek. That's all."

I swallow.

"It's fine. I whisper. "It's just... a habit."

I see his expression shift. Something that resembles pain crosses his face.

"I'll get you more tea," he says quickly. "I dropped the last one." He leaves in a hurry. I think he knew I saw the raw emotion radiating from his face. I can't quite tell why he feels emotion for me, but I know why it bothers him that I can see it.

It shows weakness.

When he returns, he moves carefully, holding the teacup with both hands. He sets it down beside me and sits again, keeping distance this time.

"Maya," he says quietly, "I hate how we met. I never supported those auctions."

"Yet you bought me," I say. The words slip past my lips before I can stop myself from saying them.

He exhales slowly.

"Yes. But there was a reason. I won't explain it yet. You need to stabilize first. For now, you are safe here."

Safe.

I nod in agreement. Not because I believe him, but because fear tells me to. "There are rules," he continues. "There is a list on that desk." His hand gestures toward the desk by the window.

The one that feels so comforting to me.

"You must follow them. There will be consequences if you don't." He says, sternly.

My stomach drops. Of course. There is always a cost.

"I can see what you are thinking," he says. "It isn't like that. But I'll be straight with you, Maya. One of the reasons I bought you is that I have to marry you. If you agree, the wedding will be in three weeks."

The words hit me like ice water.

"You'll receive training. You are entering a powerful family. Discipline matters, and disobedience is not tolerated." Authority rolls off him now. He sounds cold and commanding. His manner of speaking sends a shiver down my spine.

"And if I refuse?" I ask meekly.

"If you refuse," he says evenly, "we will need to arrange repayment of the twenty-eight million dollars I spent buying your freedom."

I laugh bitterly.

"You mean s*x?" I scoff, rolling my eyes in the process.

"No." He shoots back. He sounds almost offended.

"The money I used came from the Bloodmoon Pack. I don't have that kind of money lying around. I only gain control of those funds once I marry and produce an heir. Without that, it becomes debt."

My entire body goes cold.

"If you refuse marriage, you may remain here as staff, working off the debt. The estimated repayment time is thirty-five years. I will not let you leave as long as I live and breathe, until that money is paid back to my pack. My pack will always take priority."

My chest tightens. Marriage means a gilded cage. Refusal means a different cage.

He seems to read my thoughts.

"If you stay," he says quietly, "as my wife or my servant, you will always be safe. That is a promise I can confidently make."

Safe

Such a simple word, for something that costs so much.

"For now," he continues, "please rest. This is my house. You are free to roam this property. Please do not leave it until we have had the chance to talk more." He stands to leave.

At the door, he pauses.

"I will check on you later," he says over his shoulder.

After he leaves, I move to the desk and pull the curtains open. A majestic view fills my sight. I see a massive ancient castle-like structure rising from the mountainside.

It looks like a kingdom, or a prison.

On the desk before me lies a document.

Rules and Regulations for Maya Reynolds.

I sigh. I open the first page. I have so many questions.

And what the hell is a Bloodmoon Pack?