The Consequences of Silence
2091 Words
LUNA
“And don’t start something you can’t finish,” Mal growls into my ear, voice dark and hungry. His breath burns over my skin, and every muscle in me clenches like I’m made of live wire.
God, why does every word feel like a hand between my legs?
“Mal, what’s happening to me?” I gasp, hating how needy I sound.
“It’s a heat. A werewolf thing.”
“How do I make it stop? It’s— too much. Way too much.”
My body moves on instinct, arching, rubbing, chasing sensation, like I’m trying to crawl inside him. Mal slams his hand against my hip, pinning me back to the wall, both my wrists still trapped above my head like I might bite.
Probably fair.
“Well, that’s because you haven’t had a proper heat in three years.”
“Three years?”
“Yeah. You’ve been having these ever since I met you. But Jade being suppressed muted them. Now she’s awake, you’re feeling both of yours at once. It makes male wolves go insane when they smell it.”
Great. So I’m basically a walking pheromone bomb.
“What about you? Ethan went crazy. How are you not losing it?”
Mal laughs, low and rough. “Who says I’m not? Knowing you’re my mate for the last three years… I’ve been dealing with this constantly. Shadow is feral. Taking it out on my uncle helped.”
“Uncle? Ethan is your uncle?!”
“Yeah. And him hitting on you? Absolutely disgusting. He’s like thirty-seven.”
Mal finally releases me, shoving clothes into my arms. “Go to that bathroom and relieve yourself.”
“I don’t need to pe—”
He gives me a look that ruins whatever dignity I thought I had left.
“You know that’s not what I meant. You’ll emit s****l pheromones until you orgasm. Either you take care of it, or I will.”
Heat shoots down my spine so violently that I almost drop the clothes. His stare is molten, feral, the gold fighting with black.
Shadow wants me. He wants me.
And somehow… I’m supposed to go jerk off alone like a civilized monster.
So, humiliated, turned on, and dangerously close to combusting, I obey.
After the most degrading, terrifyingly hot, soul-draining orgasm of my life, I exit the bathroom sweating and red-faced. Mal waits on the other side of the door, still shirtless, leaning on the wall with crossed arms and that stupid, devastating smirk.
I hate him.
I want him.
I hate that I want him.
I’m wearing black sweats and a faded Def Leppard shirt tucked in by accident, which feels like the worst outfit to face a half-naked wolf-god in.
Mal hooks a finger in the waistband of my pants and pulls me forward until I hit his chest. His arms wrap around me, strong and certain, caging me in.
I melt before I can stop myself.
“Mal… what do I smell like?”
He laughs, the sound rumbling through me. “Fresh chocolate chip cookies. Comforting, but intoxicating as hell.”
His chin rests on my head; his breath slows. And I feel it—his whole body settling, like I’m the calm in his storm.
It feels way too good.
---
“Well, this place looks like trash,” a familiar voice snaps from the entrance.
I jolt awake—when the hell did I fall asleep?—and realize I’m curled in Mal’s lap like some clingy little koala.
Fuuuck.
I launch myself off him, nearly face-planting. Mal just laughs silently, the bastard.
“I’m so sorry, L—Luna,” I stammer, bowing my head. “Ethan went wild, and Mal came to save me. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”
Mal stays seated, propped on his knees, looking bored and dangerous.
His mother surveys the wreckage, eyebrows raised.
“Well, Mal, you really outdid yourself. Haven’t seen damage like this in years. And Ethan’s body imprint on the door? Your father will be thrilled. Ethan, however, is pissed. But that’s what he gets for trying to screw this girl, huh?”
"This girl" spears me in the chest. She says it like I’m a disease.
Mal is on his feet before I can inhale, baring his teeth at his mother. She actually flinches.
“Mal, tell me the truth about her. At this point, she’s more harm than good. Our doctor is injured, this room is ruined, your father is furious about you and your sister, and you’re risking everything for this nobody.”
Her words sting more than the heat clawing through me.
“I’ll go,” I blurt, stepping away.
Arms lock around my torso, hauling me back into him like he’d sooner die than let me walk away.
Then everything stops.
Mal bites me—hard—right where my neck meets my shoulder.
I gasp, frozen, pain ripping through me so intensely my knees give out. Jade screams with joy inside my head, and I want to scream back. I’m shaking, pinned, helpless, and then—
The pain melts.
Transforms.
Turns into molten, brain-melting bliss.
Mal hums against the wound, and a shiver detonates through my whole body. I feel it in my toes, my spine, between my thighs.
When he pulls away, my limbs stop obeying me, collapsing back into his arms. He holds me like he knew it would happen. Like I’m his.
His mother just stares. Speechless. Pale.
Mal meets her gaze, unblinking, daring her to fight him on this.
She doesn’t.
She storms out.
My body sags, exhausted, my blood thick and heavy. I can’t fight sleep. I can’t fight him.
Mal lifts me easily, cradling me like he has all the right in the world. My cheek rests on his chest, and the sound of his heartbeat pulls me under again.
---
I wake in a bed so soft it feels unreal. Dark room, evening outside. Silk sheets, heavy blankets. Everything is too luxurious to be real.
My neck throbs. Wet. Someone—Mal—must have been cleaning it. Or licking it.
I try to sit up—strong arms hold me down.
Rest, Shadow says inside me.
I try again. Mal pulls me back against his bare chest, voice hot against my ear.
“Luna. Rest.”
Something in his tone snuffs out my willpower. I drop.
---
When I wake again, I’m alone.
The room is massive, elegant. Wood, cream curtains, a kitchen, windows, balcony, suits in the closet—suits, seriously?
Who the hell is this guy?
The only reason I don’t panic is the smell—Mal, everywhere. Warm. Dangerous.
Jade stirs. I don’t like it here. Something feels wrong.
We’re safe, I tell her. Mal has us—
He claimed us like a piece of meat. I wanted something a little more romantic.
I laugh, and she retreats, offended. My neck burns in protest.
I drag myself to the mirror. My reflection is wrecked—bruised arms, messy hair, hollow face.
But my gaze snaps to the bite mark. Four perfect indents. Territorial. s****l. Permanent.
I touch them and instantly heat spikes low in my stomach, wet and needy.
I feel claimed.
Not cherished—claimed.
Not a mate.
A possession.
Not love.
Convenience.
Rage ignites, clearing the fog.
No. Not me.
I raid his closet, ignoring all the expensive suits and grabbing the baggy clothes I know.
Bathroom. Door locked. Shower boiling.
Clothes off.
Steam swallowing me whole.
Maybe I can wash away the shame.
Maybe I can wash away him.
I step into the water.
And let everything go.
---------------
MAL
I shut the bedroom door behind me, leaving Luna curled in my sheets, half-asleep, half-scared, still smelling like me. My mark sits on her neck—fresh, raw, undeniable. I shouldn’t have done it, not tonight, not like that.
But I also know I would do it again without hesitation.
I head downstairs, already braced for war.
My parents wait in the foyer, both standing, both armed—not with weapons, but with posture. Mom’s eyes track me with clinical precision. Dad doesn’t even pretend he isn’t furious.
“You claimed her.”
It isn’t a question.
“Yes.”
Dad steps forward. “First, let’s establish that you brought a rogue into this house, lied about her origins, lied about why she matters, and then marked her. And you did all of that knowing she’s your mate.”
My shoulders stiffen. “I was going to tell you—”
“No, you weren’t.” His voice is quiet, but lethal. “If you were, you wouldn’t have hidden her existence for three years. And you wouldn’t have let her run around human school without protection, without surveillance, without evaluation.”
I grit my teeth. “I didn’t hide her. I protected her.”
Mom laughs once—sharp, humorless. “You protected her from us.”
I open my mouth, but Dad cuts me off, voice razor calm. “You met her as a human girl, recognized her scent, and instead of bringing her home, you chose to keep a future luna secret from your alpha. Your own father.”
He says it like a betrayal, not a fact.
I don’t deny it.
I can’t.
Because he’s right.
“I’ve watched her every day for three years,” I say, low. “I couldn’t stay away. I tried. I failed. She’s mine, and—”
“They all feel like that,” Dad snaps. “But claiming a mate isn’t just romance and instinct. It’s politics. Territory. War.”
Mom steps closer, voice cool. “Now we have a rogue girl in this house with tainted lineage, unknown loyalties, and a very personal tie to our heir. You think that doesn’t make her a threat?”
“She’s not—”
“You don’t know that,” Dad bites out. “You’re blinded. You’ve been blinded for years.”
He looks at me like he’s seeing every lie I’ve ever told.
Every skipped pack event.
Every carefully built excuse to run into town, sit at Luna’s lunch table, and drive her home.
“You let a civilian see you shift,” Mom says. “You let her see pack territory. You let her get taken—”
“I didn’t LET anything happen to her—”
“And now,” Dad cuts in, “because you couldn’t control your obsession, the entire pack is compromised.”
Silence thickens. My wolf presses forward, snarling. My mark on her burns.
“What happens now?” I ask.
Dad’s expression smooths into something terrifying. “Containment. She doesn’t leave your room without permission.”
My stomach turns. “That’s not containment. That’s imprisonment.”
“Yes,” he says simply. “It is.”
Mom folds her arms. “She will be evaluated. Physically. Magically. Psychologically. We need to know what she is, who she is, and what threat she poses.”
“She’s not a threat.”
Dad’s eyes flash gold. “She is as long as she exists outside our control.”
I step forward, heat climbing my voice. “She’ll panic if she wakes up locked in a room.”
“Then comfort her,” Mom says. “But understand—she stays there because of your choices. Not hers.”
I swallow hard.
Dad’s voice drops to a knife-edge. “Until we know she isn’t here to unravel us, she doesn’t leave that room. And if she tries—”
He doesn’t finish.
He doesn’t need to.
My wolf surges forward, ready to tear into him, but I cage it down with everything I have.
“She’s innocent,” I say, hoarse. “She’s… Luna.”
Mom’s gaze softens for a fraction of a second—not kind, but pitying.
“Every threat starts somewhere, Mal. Most start with someone who looks innocent.”
I look between them, hating everything about this moment—including how much truth is buried in it.
Dad tilts his head, final and brutal.
“You will obey. And you will pray she deserves the risk you took.”
I don’t answer.
I can’t.
Because upstairs, in my bed, is the girl I’ve loved for three years—
the mate I claimed tonight—
and now she’s a prisoner of my choices.
And I don’t know how to save her without burning everything down.
- Writer
