Luna Awakening

Shopping for Mara

Aria’s POV

Ever been in love with someone you can’t be with? Crazy, right? Because that’s actually my reality. I’m in love with my foster brother, Lucien.

And as if it doesn’t get any better, I’m sitting in the VIP lounge with Lucien in Luxe and Velvet boutique, helping him pick out a dress for his girlfriend, Mara’s birthday. My number one biggest hater and the queen of fake smiles.

He hands me a brown mini gown, one of the latest designer dresses on the resale market. It is dripping in luxury—the kind of drama Mara lives for. Definitely her type. She wouldn’t dare trade a designer dress for anything in the world.

He brings it closer, surveying all its beauty before showing the dress to me.

“What do you think about the dress?” His questioning gaze meets mine.

His hazel eyes narrow in on me effortlessly, blinding and seductive. I can’t ignore the fact that it makes me weak to my knees. I try not to look bothered that those eyes are piercing deep into my soul, and I can’t get enough of it.

“It is magnificent, definitely the latest design on the market,” I say, catching my breath before proceeding. “She will definitely love it. You should go with this.”

“Definitely. I’ll just put this aside while I go through the rest of them.”

“You should. It’s indeed a lovely dress,” I say, and he turns towards the sales attendant.

“Show us some more dresses.” His alpha tone is commanding and, at the same time, alluring.

I sip from my champagne glass while I watch as she parades some more dresses. While this is going on, I can’t help but wish he knew about the romantic feelings I harbor for him. I know he shouldn’t; Mara seems to be all he thinks about right now. I mean, why wouldn’t he? She is from a beta bloodline and also one of the strongest high-ranking wolves. While I, on the other hand, am no more than a low-ranking Omega. Mara never fails to remind me about this whenever we get into heated altercations.

Lucien, on the other hand, only encourages me in his own way, but somehow his focus always drifts toward Mara. This alone makes my heart ache. Mom and Dad also encourage me, telling me to strive to be better. Though adopted, I never felt or was treated as inferior, but always showered with love and care.

Lucien relaxes into the sofa. Just then, something catches his fancy; a pink mini gown at the rear end of the rack. He calls out to the sales attendant to bring it nearer. She removes the dress from the rack and takes it to him.

The dress is even better than the last, I know once I glance at it. He observes the dress, then holds it out in midair just enough for me to see and give my thoughts on it.

“What do you think about this color?” he says.

“Oh come on, Lucien. Every girl loves a pink dress. It’s totally the best one out of them.”

“So you suggest I get this for her?”

“Definitely. I’m very sure she would like this.”

“I think it’s actually a good idea. It looks more like her style,” he says with a satisfied look plastered on his face. “I guess we’ll go with this.” He hands the dress over to the sales attendant. She pauses, awaiting his next instruction.

“Pack this dress up specially and also the rest of the dresses we’ve selected earlier.”

She nods and takes the dress, returning it to the rack while pushing the rack out of the lounge until she’s out of sight. Lucien’s face lights up in excitement. I can tell he’s pleased with his choice.

We wait for a few minutes before Lucien stands to his feet. I stare at him in confusion while rising from the sofa.

“Let’s go over to the counter. I need them to process the orders fast,” he says, and I put down my glass to follow him. We approach the counter, and he proceeds to request his orders.

While he’s on that, my eyes catch a gleam of a beautiful bag. Mom and I just went shopping for an outfit, and I can’t seem to find the right bag to go with it. This bag looks just perfect for the dress. I move over the counter, approaching the sales attendant.

“Good afternoon, Miss. How may I help you?” she says, wearing a smile on her face.

“I would like to have a close look at that bag.”

I point to the bag while she steps away from the counter to get it.

“Wow! Lucien has to see this.”

I turn towards Lucien, still speaking with the receptionist. His jaw tenses, fingers drumming in no particular rhythm. He is starting to get frustrated… his packages might be delayed.

Brushing off the frustrated look on his face, I proceed to make him get me the bag. I tilt the bag in such a way it draws his attention as he whirls in my direction.

“Lucien, don’t you think this bag looks good on me?” I say, and he turns towards me, face etched with frustration.

“Aria, we’re here to get a dress for Mara, not you,” he says, and everyone’s attention drifts toward me.

Heat rushes to my cheeks, my face heavy with embarrassment. I can’t believe he just said that to me, after buying a large collection of clothes for Mara. It’s so unbelievable that he would discard my request over a bag as though I was doing too much.

I turn to the sales attendant. I can tell a lot is going through her mind. I don’t say a word and place the bag on the counter before exiting the scene.

I inch closer towards Lucien. His orders are now ready and neatly seated on the countertop. He clears the bill and whirls to grace my presence. But I don’t look in his direction, just ignoring him while making my way out.

On reaching the car, Lucien cracks the door open, and I settle into the back seat. With my arms folded across each other, I sink into my seat and remain there, ignoring that he’s calling out to me. He gives up trying to get me to sit in front and fires the engine, hitting our ride home.

Once we arrive at the pack house, I don’t speak to him. He really doesn’t give a care in this world about me, just Mara. How pathetic. I c***k the door open, totally ghosting him as I make my way in. Once inside, I sink into a sofa nearby, and the door comes flying open with a bang. Lucien storms in, his face tight with anger coursing through it.

“Aria. What the hell did you do all that for?” he snaps.

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