Loner for Luna

Chapter 27

Andrew

The last few days have been nothing short of a nightmare. It was already unbearable enough to discover that my mate turned out to be a pis.sy lone wolf – but now she’s living in my house, in the room right next to mine? Honestly, I thanked every star in the sky that she chose another room. If she’d ended up in mine, actually sleeping in my bed… damn. That would’ve been the end of me. My life would’ve spiraled into a personal hell so deep, I doubt I’d crawl out alive.

I was greatly annoyed I had to clear out half my closet just to fit her stuff in, thanks to my parents’ oh-so-gentle “request.” Yeah right – let’s call it what it was: an Alpha’s order. Blunt, fu.cking final, with no room to argue. Obey or choke on the consequences. Blah blah blah – puke.

And still, somehow, this is worse. My life is shredded to pieces because having her right behind the wall feels like my soul’s been shackled there too. My attention – every damn ounce of it – is chained to the thought of her presence. I can’t just be anymore. My brain is a mess of obsessions: What’s she doing? What was that sound? Was that the shower? Was that… a moan? Oh, for f***k’s sake. It’s torture – pure, unrelenting torture.

It’s like I don’t own my life anymore. Like breathing is suddenly a luxury, like thinking is impossible without her shadow pressing in. She’s a single breath away, her scent staining every corner of the packhouse, a constant reminder that she’s near. And as if that wasn’t enough, my parents are breathing down my neck, pushing me to “be a gentleman” and take her on a date. A date? With this chaos raging in me? With this bond clawing at my sanity?

How the hell am I supposed to live anymore?

And this morning the moment she slammed the car door behind her and stalked across the lawn like I was radioactive waste, I sat there in stunned silence. Again. The same as yesterday. Or day before that.

Seriously?

Yeah, fine – I get it. I’m not exactly delighted to take her to school and play chauffeur for her either, but… was I really that revolting that she had to hold her breath for ten whole da.mn minutes?

Ten. Minutes.

I didn’t even notice until my wolf grumbled about it halfway through the drive.

She’s not breathing.

Huh? I glanced over. Sure enough, jaw tight, eyes narrowed, her whole body rigid like she was bracing for an explosion – or suppressing a gag reflex.

Who the hell can even hold their breath for ten minutes? A Guinness World Record holder? Maybe some freak of nature or mutant freediver out there can pull it off even longer, sure – but me? I top out at five and a half minutes, max. Every summer we used to compete at the lake or in the pool, and even then, my time was the undefeated record among the guys.

Anyway, the way she rolled the window all the way down just to escape my scent – despite the freezing air blasting in – felt like yet another performance. A silent protest. Another jab. Another insult. A staged little show just for me. Everything she did so far had one purpose: to piss me off, to humiliate me, to dig under my skin and twist the knife.

That vindictive little bi.tch.

I was gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. My foot sank deeper into the gas pedal without thinking.

And the worst part? Her scent for me… it did wild things to me – like a craving for my favorite meal after days of bland food. The second she got in the car, it was like someone lit a fuse in my veins. My mouth watered, my body tensed, my wolf growled in yearning, and my thoughts started spinning in circles around her attractive face, her body. That sharp, cruel curiosity kicked in. What would she look like naked?

Probably disgusting.

I tried to cut the thought off, annoyed at myself. She was a lone wolf. An outcast. A trash. Everything about her reeked of defiance and rot.

But still… didn’t she feel similar reaction from the bond, too? Even a little? Or was I really just some inconvenient speck of sh.it stuck to the sole of her shoe?

That’s exactly how she made me feel – with every look, every word, every move. Her attitude pi.ssed me off.

And then she went and kissed another girl right in front of me. Fu.cking unheard of. The image still burned in my skull like acid.

But the stupid craving… the pull… the bond? It was undeniable. No matter how hard I tried to shove it down.

Yet… my wolf stirred.

She feels it too.

Did she, though? Because from where I’m standing, she treated me like gum on her seat – an inconvenience she couldn't scrape off fast enough.

Every day since she moved in, she’s made a point to remind me how beneath her I am. Bolting from the car before the wheels had stopped turning, slamming the doors, storming across the lawn like I was contagious. Like she needed ten feet of space or she’d catch a disease.

She could have at least said thank you. I gritted my teeth, jaw clenching. Ungrateful bi.tch.

And this – this – is supposed to be my Luna?

No fu.cking way. I can’t take that venomous mouth to an Alpha Summit. What if she pisses off the wrong Alpha? What if she rolls her eyes at the wrong alliance?

We’d be screwed.

I muttered a curse and got out of the car, slamming the door harder than necessary. My fists were clenched before I even realized it. Every damn day since she showed up, I’ve walked around with a permanent snarl in my chest, itching to hit something.

Or someone.

She made me hate everything. Everyone. Myself, most of all.

It wasn’t fair. The Moon Goddess really played me dirty – gave me this as a fated mate...

A beauty? My wolf offered, almost smug.

No! I snapped. A broken mess.

Our amzing gift! My wold argued with me.

Not a gift – a curse. I scoffed, bitterness curling on my tongue. Besides she wasn’t ours. Not truly. Not in any way that mattered.

She was an ugly frog in disguise, and I wasn’t about to kiss her to find out otherwise.

Besides she couldn’t stand the sight of me. A girl who looked at me like I was a joke would not let me near her ever.

My wolf stirred again – calm, steady and annoyingly wise.

She’s still beautiful.

I scoffed. She’s a walking headache. And I’m not falling for it.

She is ours.

She’s nothing.

A pause.

Saying the cake isn’t sweet won’t make it bitter or sour. It’s still sweet. Even if you pretend otherwise. My wolf supplied words of wisdom.

I rolled my eyes internally.

Ugh. Save the fortune cookie crap for someone who cares. I’m not interested.

But I was. And I hated myself for it.

Because deep down, under the anger and pride and stubbornness… I knew.

I wished she would be a normal pack wolf, so she could be mine. I craved her unhinged wilderness. And it scared the hell out of me.

And now – with her in the packhouse, in my car, at school, even right next door – how long before I finally succumb to this stupid, merciless thing called the mate bond? It claws at my senses, strangles my thoughts, hijacks my mind, and sinks its teeth into my heart every damn second of every damn day.

That’s the question that terrifies me most – the one I can’t shake, no matter how hard I fight it. Because never ever would I have believed I’d be the guy who didn’t want the mate bond. And yet here I am – living it, dreading it, suffocating under it.