Homecoming Luna

Chapter 4: Red Anger

• •• •••Merlara's POV••• •• •

Halfway into my tiny, shoebox sized room, I froze on seeing Alpha Kinser casually laying on my bed with no care in the world. His tall frame making the bed and room even smaller.

My first instinct was to scream at the top of my lungs which would be inarguably stupid. I was torn between scampering and blinking multiple times in hope that it wasn't really him. No luck!

My gloomy room was in one of the crumbling structures situated far away from the bustle of the pack. The fall of night rendered its already threadbare interior even darker. Yet, I could see clear enough to discern the psychotic look in his eyes I'd come to recognize. Goddess, how long had he been waiting?

Trembling, I backed away to stand between the open door and the bare mattress which was practically all the room held.

Why was he here? To assure himself I was still looking as pain-wrought as the day he'd rejected me? That I was still looking as miserable as ever and hadn't fled? I'd once tried and failed. I still had the scar to show for it.

"What do you want?" Even though I asked, I already knew why he was here. Fear seized me. Same fear apparent in my tone.

He regarded me as he stood. I had just completed my duties for the day. Another day of being bounced from house to house doing all and the most menial of chores. I wasn't exempt from anything. Today was one of those rare days someone forgot to put me back in chains as I usually was once I'm done for the day, no matter how short my walk here was.

I retreated further as he covered the distance, forcefully kicking the creaking door shut. I let out a yelp as he pulled me into him. I stiffened at his touch. Cold hives broke out where his hands rested on my waist.

He barked a monotonous laugh.

"Why? Not happy to see me?" He loomed tall with me trapped in his hold. His words, slow and quiet were made sinister by the madling look in his reptilian-like eyes. All of which made my skin crawl.

I wrinkled my nose at the scent coming off him just as I noted his erection poking at me. A shiver of disgust ran down my spine.

I pushed at him to free myself. I was repulsed my his touch and he didn't like it one bit. And he let me know by yanking my hair back. The sharp pain reverberated through my scalp and I saw stars.

My discomfort and obvious fear only prompted him to smile more, making him look like a serious clown.

He released me after a couple seconds of watching me try to alleviate the pain by grasping my hair. I stumbled to regain my balance.

For my own reasons, I was yet to reject him and he accused me of being the reason why he couldn't find satisfaction no matter how many women he bedded. He didn't say it but I knew it gave him great pleasure that I suffered great pain due to it.

"You don't want me. I know you hate me." I cried, shaking my head, hoping to remind him of that pertinent fact. "You rejected me."

"That, I did." He snickered, a delirious look coming into his vapid eyes. "Because you w***e are a worthless piece of lowly livestock. But that in no way makes you free of me. Never! I'm never letting you go. Not until I'm done with you."

I seethed. Why he was yet to force himself on me was because he was the one who rejected me. Having his way with me against my will would make him unable to get another mate, he wouldn't want to risk that.

In disgust, I turned my face as he ran his fingers up my side, stopping to squeeze my boobs, then all the way to my face. His nose traced the same path. A revolting feeling chased the action as hot tears pricked my eyes.

He liked me docile and emotionally controllable. He liked it when I keep my head down when he so much as looked at me. But that was not why I looked away. I willed myself to suppress my raging power and my wolf spoiling for a fight. If he found out I have my wolf, my torments will be aggravated. He knows nothing of my still-crude power and I want to keep it that way.

I was oblivious to the pain in my hand as he held my desquamated wrists in a deathly grip, forcing me to look up. I saw the moment he registered my glowing eyes; thankfully just my wolf peeking through. His nostrils flared. Furious, he cast me aside with a force that caused me to hit the wall with a sickening thud. I curled into myself in a corner, whimpering. The more he fumed, the smaller I made myself.

Remorse was not something he understood. And not sympathetic pity for my plight. He had never had it. He didn't feel it, not when he'd rejected me and wrung me dry from the constant pain I feel through our mate bond when he took lovers or when he'd had me at the brink of death. He'd got no sympathy, it's not hidden under the bed. He just didn't have it.

With a bang of the door, he disappeared into the night.

Sure enough, before five a.m. the next day an entire team of men descended upon my tiny room and ransacked it time and time again until they found a mysterious wad of cash and an expensive perfume pouch filled with jewelry. I suffered broken bones for a week after.

Less than three weeks after that, a war broke out. A truce was declared and it was me.

-

I launch off the tall tree onto the ground and in the same motion, shaking off the memory. I feel weightless for a moment before my paws hit the solid ground. And then I tear off in a run.

Left and right are rich brown and green blurs as I whizz past trees at great speed. Wind whips at me. It's exhilarating and relaxing, helping me relieve my earlier tension.

This part of the forest is deep and very far from the nearest compounds. One marvelous thing about Carmine woods is that you could find a new secret spot everyday and it could be all yours with enough others to go around. So in lieu of that, I was able to undress at my spot before I shifted, letting Bea, my wolf, come to play.

Seconds later, I slow to a stop and shift to put my clothes back on. As I do, I feel the cold metal of my necklace against my neck as it makes a welcome reappearance, like it does everyother time following my shifts. It settles in between my cleavage underneath my uniform.

It was my mom's. I've assumed it's been conferred powers that help it stay through my wolf form to reappear once I'm back in human form. Such jewelry are not unheard of. Rare, quite expensive, but not unheard of. Though, I can't imagine how great importance my mom attached to it that would make her make it so, but I know she loved it so much. And so I do too.

All around, the tree leaves sway with the gentle late afternoon breeze. This here, surrounded by oak-brown ducking trees, is my favorite spot. I use it for my private trainings after my morning and afternoon sections.

I can't train anymore with my fellow trainees and it is raising questions. Ever since last month when I absolved those memories, it would be unfair to put me up with other trainees as I surpass their strength and know-how by a hundred and one percent now.

The Alpha ordered a couple high ranking warriors to train me and help me hone my skills. It's a good thing we do it in private or that would raise even more eyebrows. The training alone is vicious.

Unconsciously, my mind goes back to what happened earlier today.

A fellow trainee—well over a foot taller than me—who just made first on the leaderboard after Yorke's first rankings of three weeks in a row, walked up to me and snottily said, "Hey Truce!"

Only a few people were stupid enough to call me Truce in reference to how I came to be a member of Carmine Creek Pack and the moron was one of them.

Usually, I would've growled something fierce and have him on his back before he could draw his next breath. But I didn't, I settled for getting in his face and staring him down. As much as I could manage with my obvious one foot height difference, head sharply angled to meet his eyes.

I knew he was gunning for a fight but I'd be damned before I gave him one because if I did he'd be dead meat, literally. I'd been warned against fighting or engaging in anything that could harm my fellow pack members especially with my new found strength.

We stood that way for some seconds as other trainees stopped and gawked, probably hoping for a fight too. The stare-down lasted shorter than my last one.

In seconds, I felt more than saw the reflection of the gold tinging my eyes in his own eyes and the boy was forced to lower his eyes a fraction and with that I smirked my victory. He didn't like it one bit. His wolf may be strong but mine was stronger and he knew it. We both knew it.

Still, to save face he said, "Tired of training, huh? Feeling too big to compete with the likes of us?" He paused to see if he'd get a reaction out of me which he didn't. Then he tisked, "So who's the unlucky wolf, huh? The one you've been shagging just to skip your long overdue punishments from all the training you've been missing?"

I force my thoughts back to the present and to the cooing forest around me. I try to forget the whole thing but somehow his words really bothers me.

Truth is I've heard words that weigh heavy and his, holds no light to them. Heard soul-crushing words that sting sharper than the cut of laced shackles. All of which kept me in perpetual silent sobs until I grew numb to them all. Chains that grew rusted and became one with my scathed skin, times of which still keeps me thrashing awake at night. It reminds me of my life at Avarion. And with it comes immense anger. Red anger.

Thinking about Avarion brings the wretched sadness and grief to the forefront of my mind. The pack that—all my life—stripped me bare of my person, kept my wolf counterpart at bay and for horrible years I was near insane. Made me a valueless, decrepit shadow of myself with deteriorated esteem from the unending deplorable treatments. No youth. No time spent actively discovering who I was. Neck deep in never-ending chores, slaving away until it was all I knew. All they did was take and take, and TAKE!

When I think of Avarion, only one thought sings in my mind: how I can't wait to get them back for all they did to me! For all they took from me!! Most of all is my parents unexplained death!!

Something in me stirs, and churns.

Somewhere beneath is an ache that now feels second nature, like a part of me I can't shake. A hungry gaping mouth that needs feeding. And soon.

Angry, I fight back the tears clouding my vision. I refuse to shed a single tear, not anymore. Not for my old pack. They are completely undeserving.

Before the glum could stem any further, I carefully stuff them into a mental drawer and push it far away.

Eyes blazing, I pick up my bow and arrows, and start shooting a target board at very unbelievable long yards away. And in speedy successions incapable of being kept up with by mere eyes. Anyone listening would only hear the whooshing white sound produced by the back-to-back firing of my arrows.

And that's when he shows up.