HIS LOST LUNA

The Night She Was Marked

Moans of pain echoed off the cold walls. A girl's voice, broken and small, begged into the darkness.

"Please… Please… I beg you… Stop."

Her words came out weak, swallowed by the sound of her own sobs. Tears, snot, and spit had smeared across her face — a face that hours ago had been innocent and beautiful. Now, it was twisted in pain.

The man above her did not slow down.

"Isn't th…is… wh…wha…what you wan…wanted?" he grunted, his voice thick and drunk with something darker than alcohol. "Enjoy it. Ev…every bit."

He slammed into her again. Hard. A shout ripped from her throat.

She tried to push at his chest, but his hands pinned her wrists above her head like iron cuffs. He was massive — all muscle and heat and fury. His breathing was ragged, wild. His eyes, even in the dim light, glowed red.

Red eyes.

Only Alphas had red eyes during a hunt. Or during a claiming.

He chased his release like a starving wolf chasing prey. Each thrust drove deeper, faster. He wasn't making love.

He was drilling into her, claiming her, owning her. The old wooden bed frame banged against the wall in rhythm with his brutality.

Then his fangs descended.

She saw them gleam for just a second before he lunged at her neck. He bit down on her where her pheromone gland was located — the soft spot where the neck meets the shoulder—the place where mates marked each other for life.

She screamed.

Not from the bite alone, but from what followed. Inside her, his genitals swelled.

The knot.

He was locking them together, making sure his seed stayed inside her, making sure she could not run.

Tears flooded down her cheeks. Her body trembled like a leaf in a storm.

Finally, he released his bite. His tongue lapped at the wound — a sick sort of tenderness. He tried to look at her face, but the room was too dark, and his vision was hazy from the frenzy. Still, he smiled.

He had marked her and knotted her.

"Mine," he grumbled, his voice already fading.

Then his body went slack. He collapsed on top of her, still buried inside, still locked. His weight crushed her. His breath slowed into sleep.

She lay there, staring at the cracked ceiling. The tears kept falling, but no sound came out anymore.

How did I get here?

—

[10 hours earlier]

The sun had not yet risen over the Blue Moon Pack territory. Mist clung to the forest floor like ghosts dancing between the pines. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted.

Inside the Bliss household, soft footsteps moved through the dark hallway.

Fae Bliss knew this house better than anyone. She didn't need light to find her way. For a girl that everyone called wolfless, she had senses sharper than most wolves. She could hear her father's heavy breathing from two rooms away. She could smell the lavender soap her grandmother used. She could feel the cold spot on the kitchen floor where the tile was cracked.

But none of that mattered to her family.

In the werewolf world, the moment turned four, you feel your wolf stir inside you, and then at eight, you have your first shift. Those who didn't were called void — empty. Wolfless.

Fae was sixteen now. Nine years had passed since her supposed first shift that never came.

Her family hated her for it. Well, most of them.

She moved quietly to the kitchen and began preparing breakfast.

She cracked eggs into a bowl, sliced vegetables with practised hands, and set the kettle on the stove. She did this every morning.

Not because anyone thanked her, but because if she didn't, her mother would scream, and her father's cold silence was somehow worse.

As the eggs sizzled, her mind wandered to the day she was born told to her by her grandmother.

—

The doctor had told Farina Bliss that her pregnancy was healthy. The baby came out — beautiful, screaming, perfect — everyone celebrated. Maxwell Bliss held his daughter Fray and cried tears of joy.

An hour passed. Farina's belly still looked swollen.

"Something's wrong," the nurse said.

They checked. Another fetus. Another baby.

The second delivery nearly killed Farina. Hours of agony. Blood. Screaming. When the baby finally came out, it was smaller than its sister. Wrinkled. Quiet. Farina took one look and turned her face away.

"Take it," she whispered. "That's not my child. That's a demon."

Only Celeste, Maxwell's mother, stepped forward. She wrapped the baby in a soft blanket and held her close.

Little Michael, only four years old, tugged at his grandmother's dress. "Grandma, is my baby sister a demon?"

Celeste smiled down at him. "Does she look like a demon?"

Michael studied the baby's face. "No. She doesn't have sharp teeth or horns or a tail."

"Then she's not a demon, is she?"

Michael reached out and touched the baby's tiny fingers. Something stirred in his chest — a fierce, burning need to protect. He didn't understand it then. But he never let go of that feeling.

"What should we name her?" Celeste asked.

Michael thought hard. "Fae."

"Why Fae?"

"Because you told me that Fae are… eeth… ethereal. Beautiful and unreal. I want her to grow up beautiful."

Celeste kissed his forehead. "Then Fae, she shall be."

And the name stuck.

As the years passed, Fae grew into that name. By ten, she was prettier than Fray. By thirteen, her body bloomed in ways that made even grown wolves stare. By sixteen, she was the most beautiful she-wolf in the pack — maybe even in neighbouring packs.

But beauty meant nothing to a family that saw her as a curse.

—

Back in the kitchen, the eggs were done. Fae plated them and moved to draw baths for everyone. It was her morning ritual. Cook, clean, bathe, serve.

The front door opened.

"My beauty, what are you doing?"

Michael, her brother.

The only one beside her Grandma who loved her.

He smelled like pine and sweat from morning patrol. His dark hair was damp with mist.

At twenty, Michael was already the Beta of the Blue Moon Pack — second only to the Alpha's family. Strong. Ambitious. Ruthless in battle. But around Fae, he melted into a soft, teasing brother.

"Preparing breakfast. Welcome, brother," Fae said, kissing his cheek.

Michael ruffled her hair. "Aish, you're making me blush."

Just then, footsteps on the stairs. The rest of the family descended.

Fray came first, her face already set in a scowl. She wore a silk robe, and her hair was perfectly brushed. Even in the morning, she looked like she was posing for a picture.

Farina followed, her eyes scanning the room with cold disinterest. She looked right past Fae.

Maxwell came last, buttoning his shirt. He nodded once at Fae — not a greeting, just acknowledgement that she existed.

"Good and blessed morning to you, my Seedling," Celeste said, shuffling into the kitchen with her walking stick. Her silver hair was braided down her back.

Fae's face lit up. "Oh my root, a blessed morning to you too."

"Full moon greeting, Grandma," Michael joined in.

"Full moon greeting, my bud." Celeste kissed his forehead.

Fray rolled her eyes but said, "Good morning, Grandma."

They all sat at the table. Fae served them. She took the smallest portion for herself and sat at the far end near the wall.

"I passed my inspection," Michael announced. "I'll be joining the next hunt."

The table erupted in praise. Maxwell clapped his back. Farina kissed his cheek. Fray hugged him.

"Well, well. It's about time, forefront," Fae teased.

"Would you just give me my hug, beauty?"

"Always, brother." Fae laughed as Michael wrapped her in a warm embrace.

Fray watched. Her jaw tightened.

Why does he love her more? she thought. We look almost the same from behind. Same long black hair. Same height. But he never hugs me like that. No one does.

Jealousy burned in her chest like a hot coal.

"I'm going out tonight," Fray announced. "Party with my friends. The school year is over."

Maxwell nodded. Farina agreed. Celeste added, "Take Fae with you."

Fray's smile vanished. "Grandma, she has her own friends—"

"Nonsense. You're twins. You are in the same class. Go together. That's final."

Celeste's word was law. Everyone knew it.

Fray clenched her fists under the table. "Fine. But you better be ready by seven, Fae. Or I'm leaving without you."

She stormed off. Farina followed to comfort her.

—

[Time skip – 7:00 PM]

"WHAT IS TAKING SO LONG?" Fray screamed from the front door.

Fae ran down the stairs in joggers and a tank top. Her hair was still slightly damp from a rushed shower.

"I'm sorry. I don't own any nice clothes. I looked through everything."

Fray's eyes swept over her sister and felt a stab of envy.

Fae's tank top barely reached her belly button because her chest was too large. She wasn't even trying to be sexy — that was the problem. She just was.

Her D-cup curves strained against the thin fabric. Her joggers hugged her hips. Her face, bare of makeup, glowed like morning light.

Fray was pretty, but Fae was breathtaking.

"Whatever. Let's just go."

They passed Celeste, who smiled at them. "Have fun, my seedlings."

Outside, a black car waited. Robbie leaned against the driver's door, licking his lips when he saw Fae.

"She's coming with us?" he asked.

"Yeah. Grandma forced her," Fray muttered.

Robbie's eyes crawled over Fae's body. "Well, the more the merrier. Especially if the merrier is sweet."

He opened the back door for Fray, but his gaze stayed on Fae.

Fae hesitated. She didn't like Robbie. He had grabbed her once at a pack gathering. Michael had broken his nose for it, but Robbie was Fray's ride, and Fray was her ride.

She got in.

The car smelled like cheap cologne and old cigarettes. Robbie's eyes kept finding her in the rearview mirror.

As they pulled away from the house, the forest swallowed them. Tall pines lined the gravel road. The setting sun bled orange and red through the branches.

Fae pressed her forehead against the cool window and watched the trees blur past.

Maybe tonight will be fun, she told herself.

She was wrong.