The Fake Luna

Chapter 8

Sia

I tugged at the zipper of yet another dress—and gave up. Marilyn's wardrobe might be worth a kingdom, but it wasn't made for this body. My hips refused to negotiate, and her bras? I’d need magic or a belt to get the cups to stay in place.

Her waistline? Yeah, that I could match. But the rest of me? Definitely not Victoria’s Secret model energy. More like siren-meets-smex-symbol. My body was reshaping itself without my permission, becoming something... more… tailored for Alpha Killian’s deepest cravings. Sirens adjust to match their fated mate’s desires( since he bit me, I'm now his fated mate, it's that easy for us), and clearly, the moon goddess thought temptation incarnate was the brief.

I found a few stretchy outfits that didn’t threaten to split at the seams, threw one on, and headed to my company.

As soon as I stepped onto the floor, the staff froze. I smiled like a benevolent dictator.

“Take the day off,” I announced. “And no, you’re not fired. Go on a date. Take your kids to the park. Pet your cat. Just relax. I don't want to see anyone working today. ”

A wave of nervous clapping and slight confusion. I didn’t care. Let them breathe. They looked like one missed deadline away from snapping.

But while I told them to relax, I wasn’t relaxed. Not even a little.

Blair didn’t show up to work.

My gut twisted. Had she told someone what she saw?

Sh!t.

If Blair opened her mouth, I'm done for.

~~~~~

Blair’s neighborhood was… Too quiet.

Not the peaceful kind. “The this-place-has-ghosts-and-all drug dealers you can think of “ kind. The building stood like a relic of broken dreams—graffiti on walls, the air reeking of weed. Somewhere, loud music thudded like a cheap heartbeat, paired with the unmistakable moans of a couple with zero shame and thin walls.

I side-eyed a nosy neighbor peeking from her curtains like it was her full-time job, waved. She ducked.

Sharkman followed behind me, as we made our way up the creaky stairs. Her door was 302. I knocked once.

Click!

It opened. Just like that. No lock and certainly there was no Blair. Instant unease.

Sharkman pushed the door fully open and stepped in first like the walking fortress he is. I followed.

“Blair?” I called, glancing around.

Her apartment was surprisingly clean, simple and very cozy. A folded blanket on the couch, small plant in the corner and half-read book by the window. All very… un-murdery and different from her outside surroundings.

I walked into her bedroom, heart pounding faster than I liked.

Sharkman frowned, sniffed the air, then dropped to his knees. “She was here recently.”

“What are you—” Before I could finish, he pulled something from under the bed. Her phone.

The screen was already lit, and a voice memo was paused. I hit play.

“You had just one job, stupid omega. I loaned you enough money and you were supposed to pay by killing that Luna bïtch. Why is she still alive?”

The man’s voice was rough, like he's been a long time drinker.

“I… I did. I don’t know what happened.”

Blair’s voice came through, shaky and stutterish.

A loud thud, maybe a punch echoed and then… silence.

The recording ended, and the only sound left was the pounding of my heart in my ears.

“She’s been kidnapped,” I whispered.

Sharkman stood slowly. “We’ll find her.”

Oh, and he didn't waste time.

One second we were creeping through the shadows of the abandoned warehouse. The next, he’d shifted—bones snapping, skin tearing—and his massive gray wolf lunged into the darkness. He moved so fast I didn't even grasp how many people were there.

Screams erupted, then stopped.

By the time I reached Blair, she was tied to a chair, lips bloody and eyes swollen with fear. She looked up and gasped.

“Run!” she cried.

Instead, I knelt beside her, yanking off the ropes.

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’ve got you.”

A few meters away fire hissed as Sharkman dragged the lifeless bodies out one by one and set them ablaze. I grabbed Blair’s arm gently and helped her to the car.

She was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.

Without a word, I handed her the brown bag I’d picked up earlier—stuffed with fries and crispy chicken. A 2-liter soda balanced in the cup holder like a glorious centerpiece.

Blair blinked. “Why…?”

“I had a feeling you hadn’t been eating. Figured I’d grab whatever the gods of fast food offered.”

She didn’t wait for a second invitation. The fries vanished. The chicken was stripped to the bone. The soda? Chugged.

I sat there, mildly horrified and a little impressed. I suspected she hasn't been eating. But that's gonna be a past now.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and blinked.

“Who are you really? I know you are a siren. I never expected to see one this close.”

I exhaled. “ I am Sia,”

For now I'll tell her my land name. I prefer to keep my real name at bay. I told her everything, from leaving Teddy's dorm to pretending to be Marilyn.

She stared at me. I mean really stared. Like all the little things were finally making sense.

“ So she's really dead?” She asked.

I nodded.

“ Like really really…. Poof. No body nothing?” She asked again.

“ Yes she imploded in my hand, it was in the deepest part of the ocean.” I answered. Hope that satisfies her curiosity.

“I kinda suspected something was off,” she said softly.

“One—Marilyn’s right-handed. You’re left. Two—she hated pepper, you add it like confetti. Three—she flat-ironed her hair to death, you let yours curl like curtain waves looking like a 60s controversial actress. Which is pretty by the way. And the biggest sign was you are really kind. Marilyn would have had my hand cut off for pouring juice on her.”

She paused, smiled sadly.

“Honestly… it’s a relief. Marilyn wasn’t exactly beloved. She would’ve never come back for me. She never cared about anyone other than herself. Glad the b!tch died! I hated her so much. I hope she suffered.”

“ Yeah she did,” I replied.

“Still,” I said, voice lower, “please don’t tell anyone. If the pack finds out—”

“I won’t,” she said, cutting me off. “I promise. You’ve been kinder to me than anyone ever has. Plus I hate bullies. Those girls that were mean to you, they will never do that again.”

“Thank you.” I replied with a smile.

There was a beat of silence. Then she added, shamefully, “I borrowed from a loan shark. I needed money to take care of someone… someone dear to me.”

“How much?” I asked.

Her voice broke. “Ten… ten grand.”

“Consider it done.” I smiled. “Also, you're fired.”

Her eyes widened in panic. “What?!”

I smirked. “From maid duty. I’m promoting you to assistant. If you’re up for it. I don’t know crap about werewolves, or their politics, or how not to accidentally insult a Beta’s tail. I need help. The pay will be better than the trash that bïtch used to pay you.”

She didn’t hesitate. She leaned over and hugged me tight, all warm and awkward.

“Yes. I’ll help you,” she said, voice shaky and soft all at once.

I looked out the window.

Sharkman stood in the distance, adding fuel to the flames, his silhouette a looming protector in the firelight.

For once, I felt… safe.

And that terrified me. Because I rarely feel safe.

“So, how do you get your body to look like that? You’re really hot. Like so sëxy” Blair said between bites of a frosted donut, eyeing me like I was a walking Photoshop filter.

I chuckled, adjusting my tank top. “It’s not exactly something I chose. I’m a siren, remember?”

Blair tilted her head, intrigued. “Okay, and?”

“Well…” I leaned in with a grin. “Sirens are biologically built to be seductive. It’s in our DNA. We don’t get to choose it. It’s like… sëxual energy is just part of who we are. You know how some girls glow when they’re in love? I glow when someone even thinks about undressing me.”

Blair blinked. “So you’re just built like smex on legs?”

“It’s worse when you’re mated to an Alpha,” I said with a shrug. “The mate bond does weird things. The more connected I get to Killian, the more my body reshapes to match his subconscious desires. I’m becoming his ‘perfect temptation.’”

Blair’s eyes widened “Wait—you’re saying your boobs got bigger because he likes big tïts?”

“Apparently,” I said, gesturing to my very un-Victoria-Secret-model bust. “And the hips, too. I’m basically morphing into his fantasy.”

She stared at me, eyes wide. “Sirens have the weirdest but most incredible biology ever.”

I leaned back with a sigh. “Tell me about it. And the worst part is… when he marked me, I moaned.”

Blair gave me a look. “Like… a sëxy møan?”

“The sëxy siren kind. The kind that triggers uncontrollable urges in men. The second I let it slip, he went wild. His eyes glazed over, his body was vibrating with heat. He kept growling about knotting me.”

Blair gasped “WHAT?!”

“Yeah!” I cried. “So I’m sitting there thinking, What kind of psycho serial k!ller shoves knots onto people's throats ? I was ready to fight for my life!”

She laughed harder. “Oh my goddess—Sia, no. That’s not what knotting means.”

I squinted. “Then what the hell does it mean?”

Blair wiped a tear from her eye, still laughing. “Knotting is… uh… it’s a werewolf mating thing. When an Alpha mates with his Luna, his dïck swells at the base and kind of… locks in place to keep the seed inside until it’s, you know… marinated.”

“Marinated?!” I gasped.

“Okay that came out wrong, lets just say for the full satisfaction” she said, laughing harder. “But you get it!”

I stared at her in horror. “So… it’s not mürder. It’s just… internal entrapment.”

Blair nodded, now wiping her nose. “Yup. You almost ran from the man because of the most natural werewolf mating instinct.”

“I did run,” I groaned. “Locked myself in the bathroom and faked an injury just to escape the knot.”

Blair slapped her knee, full-on wheezing.

“At least now I know,” I muttered. “If he ever says ‘I’m gonna knot you,’ I won’t grab a fire extinguisher this time.”

Sharkman was done turning the warehouse creeps into ash and was now heading back to the car, smelling faintly like smoke and diesel.

Blair turned to me, “Just... don’t shift in the house again, okay? If you need to swim or, you know, do your thing, I’ll take you to the river in the forest. It’s quiet and safe. The house could be crawling with moles. If they find out you are a siren they will gutter you.”

I nodded. “Noted.”

She glanced out the window, eyes narrowing. “Those men back there? They were just the tip of the iceberg. Marilyn... she stepped on the wrong toes. Powerful dirty ones.”

“I figured,” I said, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “But I’m not Marilyn.”

“No,” Blair said, giving me a soft look. “You’re better. Please be careful. There will be others sent. I don't know who is ordering for Marilyn’s head. I don't want anything happening to you.”

I didn’t say anything for a second. My mind wandered, not to Marilyn’s enemies—but to Killian.

I’m not scared of enemies. I’m scared of my mate.

Because if Killian ever discovered the truth—that I’m not Marilyn, not even a werewolf, just a siren masquerading as his Luna—then I might as well surrender to the Northern Sea and let them chain me again.