His Possessive Luna

The Tattoo

Jane’s POV

I'm still thinking about the tattoo.

All packs have their specific tattoos—each one like a signature. But this one? I’ve never seen it before. It definitely doesn’t belong to any of the nearby packs. So where the hell is it from?

I’m seriously anxious to find out. But I couldn’t sneak into Dad’s library today to get the book on Pack Histories. Typical.

The school bell rings. Thank the Goddess—it’s finally over for today. I was so lost in that damn dream and the tattoo that I don’t even remember seeing my friends.

And I still have to find out how Jo is doing.

“Hello, beautiful! Long time no see,” Mance says with that smug little smile plastered on his face.

Ugh. Sometimes he makes me want to punch him straight in the jaw. But I take a deep breath, count to five, and answer him with as much irritation as I can squeeze into one sentence.

“Hi. It was just a weekend, not exactly a decade.”

“For you it wasn’t. For me? Only the Moon Goddess knows how long and tormenting it was.”

Gosh. Why is he so dramatic? He could put soap operas to shame.

“And yeah, I wanted to ask—what were you doing in the boys’ dorm yesterday?”

What. The actual. Hell. Is he interrogating me now?

“And why does that concern you?” I snap.

“Why does it concern me?” he repeats, like I’ve asked something offensive. “Because it does! Why would you go there and not even tell me? Do you know what kind of people stay there? Do you think Uncle would like it if his daughter visited the boys’ dorm on weekends?”

He spits all that nonsense out like he owns me or something. My blood is boiling.

“First of all, you’re not my father, so I’m not supposed to answer to you. And second—who the f**k gave you the right to question me about anything, let alone my weekends?” I say through clenched teeth.

“Where are your manners!” he barks. “I’m not your father and I don’t intend to be, but I demand some respect! You’ll regret talking to me like that in the future. Mark my words.”

“And why would I regret it, huh? Come on, say it! It doesn’t concern you where I go or who I meet. So keep your f*****g nose out of my life—or you’ll regret that your parents ever gave birth to you.”

I’m fuming. People passing by are literally changing direction. Mance turns bright red, fists clenched, but says nothing. He mumbles something about you don’t even have a wolf as he storms off.

Whatever.

Sometimes I wish he’d vanish into thin air, but because of our family ties, I have to tolerate him. Lucky me.

I find Amelia and Ray later and ask if there’s been any news about Jo.

“She’s still not answering her phone,” Ray says. “And she’s still blaming us for everything.”

Seriously? Still blaming us?

Why can’t people just take responsibility for their own choices? Not everything is someone else’s fault. I’m so sick of this victim game.

Amelia’s face sinks again. Poor thing.

“What are you guys doing this afternoon?” I ask, trying to distract us all.

“My mate’s coming over, so I’ll be busy,” says Ray. “I’ll call you when I’m free.” And he leaves, just like that.

“And you, Amelia?”

“Nothing. I’m free.”

“Let’s go to my house. We’ll talk for a bit.”

“Okay.”

---

We’re in my room now, sipping coffee. Amelia hasn’t said a word the whole walk home. She barely ate at lunch and now she just sits there in silence.

She used to be so lively, always talking. Now she’s barely existing.

“How are you feeling now? Any better?” I ask carefully.

“They’re getting worse every day,” she says, her voice hollow. “Sometimes I feel really happy and then out of nowhere, really sad. One minute I’m full of energy, and the next I can’t even lift my hand. It’s exhausting. The feelings are too much—and now there are dreams too.”

“What dreams?” I ask, suddenly alert.

“I dream of a brown wolf. It doesn’t feel like a dream, though. I can smell him. It’s so real, Jane. So real. He smells amazing. I don’t know what’s happening, but it’s killing me.”

Crap.

Should I tell her about my dreams?

No. Not now. She’s already dealing with enough.

“I think it’s about your mate,” I say instead. “I read a book about the mate bond once, and what you’re describing—it matches.”

“Wait... you read that book? Do you still have it?”

“Yup.” I grab the worn-out paperback from my table and plop down beside her.

We flip through the pages together. And there it is: When the bond between wolves is strong enough, mates may appear in each other’s dreams before they meet in real life.

That explains Amelia’s dreams. But not mine.

I don’t have a wolf. So how can I be connected to someone through dreams?

“And what if it’s real?” Amelia whispers. “What if I meet him—my fated mate? What do I do? I’m already marked... I’m already engaged. But in my dreams, I’m crazy about him. I need him. I don’t think I can live without him.”

And just like that, she breaks into sobs.

I sit there like a statue, useless. Comforting people has never been my strength.

“When you meet him, we’ll figure something out. I promise,” I say, trying to sound hopeful. “Everything will be fine. Don’t lose hope.”

But do I believe what I just said?

No. I don’t.

Nothing will be fine. If her fated mate actually shows up, she’ll either have to reject him—or we’re looking at war with the Bluemoon Pack. Her fiancé’s a beta. He’s not going to give up his mate easily.

I just hope the Moon Goddess keeps her mate away. For everyone’s sake.

---

Amelia falls asleep next to me. I’m bored out of my mind.

I scroll through f*******: and i********:, but nothing interesting. I toss my phone aside, grab the book again, and start reading from where we left off.

Turns out the book lists some famous mate bonds—some were even from rival packs. One couple defied everything, even war, to be together.

Then I see her name: Catherine White—from our pack. And her mate.

And then—s**t.

There’s a section with pack tattoos.

The tattoo from my dream?

It belongs to Blood Moon.

No. No, no, no.

If the mate bond stuff is real, and that tattoo wasn’t just some weird fantasy...

Then I’m royally, completely, utterly f****d.