Homecoming Luna

Chapter 2: Peace Offering

• •• •••Merlara's POV••• •• •

"Move those legs!" Ren shoves me as I trudge forward in a daze, walking like a sacrificial lamb off to a slaughterhouse with no hope whatsoever.

The heavy chains around my wrists and ankles sting and clank as I walk on. The sound that follows me everywhere. Chaffing against my already torn skin, its toxic rust cutting through flesh to meet blood. As they have for long years now. And it intentionally remains unhealing, with my wolf at bay.

I shut off the pain. I try and fail to. My mind can't be tricked. Not anymore. Not right now.

My numb feet slap against the pavement that leads down to the pack hall, but I don't hear any of it. Not the chains. Not the trepid beatings of my doomed heart. Not the indistinct low chatter that grows louder as we walk on. I am too busy praying to the moon goddess and to every other goddess capable of answering prayers.

"What are you muttering about? Praying to whom? The moon goddess? The mountain goddess?" Ren huffs a mocking laugh.

He whirls me around and once again, undos my chains. My neck, my wrists, then my ankles. And not at all gentle. They falls and he kicks them aside, pushing me into resuming our walk.

"You're one very pathetic little creature. You really think you're worth saving, ehh?"

He laughs and wonks me over the head causing me to land face first into the pack hall. I howl in pain at the connecting sound my forehead makes against the concrete floor hot from the smoldering weather.

I feel lightheaded.

The fresh scrape on my right arm and knees hurt as I gather myself and get up to look into scornful gazes in whichever direction I look. So I just train my eyes on the floor and shuffle forward with a slight limp. Woozy.

The pack hall, which is usually empty except for pack meetings and celebratory get-togethers, is packed full of people. I walk in their midst, pass tables towards the podium where Alpha Kinser and Avarions, the pack elders, stand.

And before them stands a small battalion of fear-instilling men. They are a force to behold and standing center and tallest of them all is a roguishly tall man, rock solid. Tight muscles in all the right places. And heavily inked sleeves, black tattoos as much as I can see.

I involuntarily pause.

The man doesn't look a day older than twenty-seven. With everything I've heard, I expected a burly, bloated, scarred and ugly looking creature but this man is anything but.

He is wickedly beautiful. His sinful lips, with heavily defined cupid's bow make up lots for his black-as-midnight eyes. No one in this life and the next would ever mistake him for anything other than the Alpha he is. He wears his domineering aura like a second skin.

I hate him on sight. I hate him for everything he stands for, everything he represents. Hell, I hated him before I've even looked at him, when I've only ever heard of him.

And as if he can feel my bitter distaste, his dead eyes slice to mine a second before Ren prods my back, more forcefully this time. With the push, I clamber up the short stairs onto the podium, getting sandwiched between the two groups. My pack leaders by my right and Carmine Wolves to my left.

"Why is she bruised all over?" The Carmine Alpha's voice is slick and compelling, like that of someone on the order-dishing side of things, whose quiet words would never be taken as anything less than a command. Someone who would utter the word "run" and you'd run, not scurry, not race walk, not fly. But run. "And you said she was younger."

No one dares to breath as the questions settle ominously over the room.

I am petite at 5'5 and too young looking for my almost-twenty years so if he says that, then he must really have been expecting a child. It gives me a frisson of hope that I may not be offered up as peace offering after all.

"Uh, I'm sure she . . .uh . . ." One of the Avarions, a pack elder sputters and fails to say something explanatory.

"You're offering me your overworked slave as peace offering?" The Carmine Alpha asks again, incredulous. Somehow, his calm voice manages to boom through the overflowing hall as he looks Alpha Kinser dead in the eye.

The effect is frigid. It leaves the entire hall feeling suffocating.

"Alpha Daen, if I may?" Avarion Sammo, old and wrinkly, speaks up. At the Alpha's non-reaction, he carries on. "I wouldn't call her a . . .slave or . . .eh, overworked. She's just too good." The old man manages a creaky but tense chuckle. "Always volunteering to do all the chores." Another chuckle. "She's hardworking and very pretty too as you can see. And a virgin, yes."

I didn't believe I could feel anymore humiliated than I already feel but here I am practically being pandered for everything between a s*x slave and a domestic slave. I've never felt so exposed.

No one says anything for a long time. And neither does the Alpha, obviously unimpressed. He remains unconvinced, very well smelling the poorly delivered lie from a mile off.

Thank Moon Goddess!

"A deal is a deal. You take the girl and the land we promised so we all can save ourselves from this bloodshed." Alpha Kinser finally speaks up. But his attempt to sound authoritative is marred by the slightest of tremors which I'm sure didn't go unnoticed.

It breaks my heart hearing how easily it is for him to say that. Like I mean so little. Like I am valueless. Like I'm not his mate. Even though I'm the mate he rejected on the same day we both found out we are mates. But I've refused to reject him too. I truly believe he'll change his mind.

Most people could choose a mate after they've gone a long time without one so getting blessed by the Moon Goddess with a fated mate is considered a huge blessing not everyone gets, so I decided to give him time hoping he'll come around. Enduring multiple soul-rending pains whenever I feel him get intimate with someone else which is practically everyday. Pain that chips aways at my being a chunk at a time.

"There will be no truce. And this—" The Carmine Alpha's index finger stabs the air in my direction. "—is an insult. I'll grant you a day's reprieve 'cause one of my own is taking a mate tonight. But come tomorrow, I'll wipe you out and howl to the moon with your carcasses at my feet."

I grind my teeth hard until I can feel a thrumming ache in my head.

Petrified low murmurs erupt throughout the hall at the threat issued. People muttering in abject fear. The air smells heavily of it.

The Carmine Alpha continues in a chilling voice, causing the crowd to once again fall silent. "At least have the good sense to clean your slaves up before you ship them off."

The men behind him chuckle at the jab. Ugliest sound, especially since it's at my expense.

When he says the word 'slaves', I defiantly lift my head to catch a subtle look of fascination enter his eyes as they travel from my fingers clasping nervously at the electric blue pendant of my necklace to my odd hair. My blazing eyes look into his own for a moment before I realize I don't want him looking at me anymore than he has to.

Immediately, I look down.

Too late though, because my breath holds as he prowls toward me and into my space. I keep my head down, focusing intensely on his black laced-up boots refusing to look up. He stands before me awhile, assessing then slowly lifts my jaw with his index finger, yet I refuse to meet his eyes.

After a long moment of heavy silence, he mind-links to someone, "Check her."

The abrupt command is directed at one of his men who comes forward in that instant.

I dare to lift my eyes, confused. Check me? Check me of what? Weapons? Silver? Wolfsbane? I almost laugh at the thought. It's laughable, honestly. He is either overrating me, or I did not hear him right.

The man who came forward, blonde and less formidable looking, lifts my wavy red hair that flows down my back. I feel pain as some of it were matted to tears of my skin. My hair is gules red but a small part of my front hair is naturally white blonde, just like my mom's was. The uniqueness stands out more because my kind can't hold artificial hair colour as it always reverts back when we go through a shift.

The blonde man shifts my hair to the side to expose my nape where he places a hand beyond the raw skin and just as he does, his eyes glaze over a moment before he jerks into focus a moment later.

The man's eyes go wide to the very limit. He appears startled. Really startled. "Alpha, she's an Absolver!! Grade A! SHE'S A GRADE A ABSOLVER!!!" he all but screams at the top of his lungs.

I gasp at the same moment the Carmine Alpha's eyes and the blond man's cut in my direction.

How the hell did he kno—? No, no, no!!!

Discovering I am an Absolver isn't a news I celebrate. Power of absolution is one of the rarest werewolf powers. As an Absolver, I'm capable of absolving people's memories; sad, painful, happy so that it becomes mine. Also pains, be it physical or emotional. And least of what people liked of Absolvers is our ability to Absolve people of their powers too. It could work both ways in the sense that I can transfer pain or memories or powers from one person to another. And it's draining. It could leave me passed out for hours. It is in no way favourable to me.

There are reasons I've told no one of my powers. And this right here may be one of it. One of which is that I didn't want to give my pack members more reason to loathe me than they already do.

If the blonde man and the Alpha doubted what I am, my gasp just confirms it for them. The fact that I'd just heard them mind link, which I shouldn't have been able to as I'm no member of their pack is confirmatory enough. Another perk of being an Absolver.

I bite my lip hard, tasting blood. Cursing, cursing my stupid luck.

"I'll take her," the Carmine Alpha announces. He is looking at me but speaks to the entire room.

My entire pack yelp their reliefs, none aware of what just transpired. Or what caused the sudden change of heart. Nor do they care.

I feel a strong heat behind my eyelids a moment before fat tear drops slip from my eyes. I shake my head furiously from side to side, tears-blurred eyes looking all around. My eyes land on my mate, Alpha Kinser, who looks the most relieved. In his eyes is nothing but hostility, resentment that has been fed over time. I try to mind link through the mate bond. Yell at him to help me but it's futile as the bond is severed from his end due to the fact that he's rejected me.

Still, I yell his name at the top of my lungs. Begging. Pleading. Kicking my legs, thrashing against the hands that grip me as I'm being bundled away.

I've held on to him this long not because I harbour some secret affection for him. Far from it. I've felt so alone and could feel myself losing it so I've held on just to keep going. Just to have a semblance of connection to something. Anything. Anyone. But now, I'm begging because he is the lesser of two evils.

Voice hoarse, I keep begging his back turned to me. Praying that he only just needs to look at me. See me. But he doesn't. If he hears me, he shows no sign of it.

Like a switch, an intense hollow feeling emanates from my chest and quakes to the end of my toes. It renders me numb. My already fragile heart hurts unimaginably worse as I'm forced to accept something I've so foolishly denied for so long.

Then abruptly, the hand tightly encircling my middle stops and loosens just as we're almost to the door. It causes me to loose balance and topple down.

I look from the Carmine man who was holding me to the other Carmines all around him. My crying instantly stops as I look up into a chilly darkness that's a pair of eyes. The Carmine Alpha's.

Indifferently, he regards the mess that is me. Ugly snotty crying face, scrapes from my fall earlier, discolored bruised skin, dirtied clothes from my relentless thrashing, nest of hair all over my wet face. His eyes openly notes all these, then land on mine. No sign of anger, no sign of annoyance. Least of pity. Just blank unreadable eyes. It's like even if he is capable of these emotions, I'm truly worth nothing to incite any of them. Least of all, in him.

"I believe you've got something to say to your mate over there." is all he says with calm finality.

It takes me but a second to understand what he means. Hopeless and pained, I actually do agree with him.

If I'm going to die as I well know, I might as well cleanly cut myself and my wolf off from the one person in the entire world who has killed us the most slowly, when he should've been the healing balm.