The Lycan Kings’ Rejected Luna

Episode 2

Desiree’s POV

I never wanted to feel this way on the night of my own eighteenth birthday, the day my parents, especially my father, insisted should feel like , celebration, stepping into adulthood. But my chest was heavy like something was ending instead of beginning.

Maybe it was. In less than three days I would be on a plane, halfway across the world, starting the scholarship I had prayed, begged, cried, and sacrificed for.

My future was finally happening but not here with my parents.

I was finally leaving my safe space.

And here I was, hiding behind the lemon trees in the back garden like a coward, refusing to face the one person I swore I would never think about tonight.

Ronan Grant.

Have you ever been in a situation of being caught in the middle of a s****l intimacy, moaning out a name you told everyone you hate?

Yes, that was me. That was me last week.

Shamelessly moaning out the boy I had told the world I despised so much.

My brother Matt's best friend, Ronan. My childhood nemesis, secret fantasy, and my teenage irritation.

The boy who always knew how to poke holes in the armor of my already made up mind and the same boy I had moaned out his name last week while doing something that made my cheeks fair with humiliation whenever I remembered it.

He heard me.

He f’cking heard his own name break out of my mouth and walked out like the world hadn't just detonated around me.

His indifference had been torture.

Which was exactly why I planned to avoid him until the party ended and I could disappear upstairs and pretend this day was about my future, not him! And I might as well not meet up with him till years later.

I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly.

Just ten more minutes alone. Ten minutes without….

“Trying to escape your own party, birthday girl?”

A familiar voice slid through the silent garden and I recognised his voice even before I heard his footsteps.

My stomach dropped so fast that I panicked, opening my eyes in shock.

No. No, no, no, he can't be here.

I straightened abruptly, whipping around, already annoyed that just hearing his voice could send every molecule in my body scattering. Every restraint, bursting off.

Ronan walked out from behind a patch of rose bushes, his dominant aura taking the place with his hands shoved into the pockets of his dark jeans, like he hadn't just intruded on my desperate need for solitude.

The garden lights caught on the angles of his cheekbones, his short jet-black hair and his emerald Green eyes. He looked older than the boy I grew up with, sharper, broader, his broad shoulders filling out the fitted black T-shirt he wore. Of course, he always loved black fits.