The Luna Mistress

CHAPTER THREE

ALLESIA'S POV

The first thing I notice about Blackthorn Manor is that it smells wrong.

Not rotten, not exactly. Just... heavy. Like the walls remember too many secrets and haven’t bothered to hide the scent of old blood.

They lead me through high archways and stone corridors lit by flickering torches. My boots click against polished floors while the two guards at my back pretend I don’t exist.

I keep my chin up. If they think I’m going to cower after what Damian did tonight, they’ll die disappointed.

One guard stops at a thick wooden door bound with iron rivets. He mutters something under his breath — probably an insult — then pushes it open for me.

The room inside is large, warm, suffocatingly clean. A fire roars in the hearth. Furs cover the bed that looks too soft to trust.

A cage can wear silk sheets and still be a cage.

I turn to the guard. “Do you sleep here too? Or just watch from the keyhole?”

He doesn’t answer. Just slams the door shut.

I almost laugh. Coward.

I strip off the borrowed cloak, throw it over a chair, and stalk to the window. Iron bars. Of course. Damian might not call me a prisoner, but these bars speak louder than his promises.

I press my forehead to the cold glass. Below, the courtyard flickers with torchlight as patrol wolves circle the walls. Watching for threats, they’d say. Watching for me, I know.

A sharp knock makes me jump.

Before I can bark an insult, the door creaks open. A woman steps in — older, tall, wrapped in a deep blue cloak that matches her steely eyes. Her presence is the opposite of Damian’s: cool, precise, and entirely unimpressed by me.

“You must be Alessia.”

I roll my eyes. “The name’s on the cage door, right?”

She doesn’t flinch. She crosses the room and sets a folded linen bundle on the bed. “Clean clothes. You stink of iron and fear. It offends the pack.”

“Then maybe the pack should keep its nose out of my business.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “Your business is the pack now.”

“Not by my choice.”

“Nor theirs.” She sighs, like she’s bored already. “I am Lira. Beta. I run this house so Damian doesn’t have to think about details like what you eat or whether you remember to bathe.”

I hate how calm her voice is. How utterly unafraid.

“Tell him I don’t plan to be here long enough to stain the sheets.”

She laughs — a dry, humorless sound. “I’ll tell him you plan to cause trouble. He’ll be thrilled.”

When she leaves, I sit on the edge of the bed, dragging the clothes into my lap. Soft cotton. A simple tunic and leggings. Nothing like the silks I wore at court before my father destroyed everything.

I blink, and suddenly I’m there again — years ago, in the old Moonglade throne room. My father’s voice echoing off the stone as he argued with the council about some deal I didn’t understand. Silver smuggled across borders, broken oaths, whispers of traitors.

I see the moment he turned to me, eyes soft despite the roar of wolves outside.

"Promise me, Alessia. Whatever happens, you fight them. You fight fate itself if you must."

Then the council’s soldiers came, dragging him from the dais, the splash of blood against the marble so bright I thought I’d drown in it.

I squeeze my eyes shut, pushing the memory back into the pit where it belongs.

A knock drags me back.

I snap, “I said I don’t want visitors—”

But it’s not Lira this time.

It’s him.

Damian Blackthorn fills the doorway like a storm on two legs. No armor, no crown. Just a man with silver eyes that scrape against every piece of me I try to keep hidden.

“Comfortable?” he asks, voice soft enough to make me want to scream.

“Get out.”

He steps inside instead, shutting the door behind him. “You’ll eat. Then sleep. Tomorrow you train.”

I stand so fast the folded clothes drop to the floor. “I don’t take orders from you.”

“You do now.”

His calm is worse than rage. I want him to yell, to bare teeth, to prove he’s the monster everyone says he is. Instead, he just watches me like he’s measuring how much chain I’ll snap before I sink my teeth in.

“Break me, then,” I hiss. “That’s what you want, right? A pretty little Luna who bows when you growl?”

He moves so quickly I barely have time to flinch — suddenly he’s right there, inches away, and my wolf shudders against my skin, both terrified and hungry.

“You think so little of me?” he whispers.

I try to laugh but my throat won’t let me. “Prove me wrong.”

He reaches out — slow, deliberate — and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingertips graze my neck and I swear the bond crackles like lightning under my skin.

“I plan to,” he says.

He leaves me standing there, chest heaving, too furious to cry.

A few moments later, I hear his voice through the door — low, commanding, as he orders the guards outside to double the patrols, as if that will keep me from slipping through the cracks.

But I don’t want to run.

Not yet.

Because for all his power, all his iron control —

Damian Blackthorn doesn’t know how deep my father’s secrets run.

And I’m going to rip this kingdom apart to find the truth.

I press my palm to the cold window, watching his shadow vanish into the courtyard below. Let him think he owns me now. When I’m done, I won’t just escape — I’ll make him beg me to stay.