The Sacred Luna

Chapter 5

(Sanya's POV)

I shower quickly. The water runs too hot, then too cold, and I don't bother adjusting it. My body aches from tension. From crying. From lying awake all night replaying Tyron's words in my head.

My wife is a beauty blessed by the Creator. She deserves to be treated with care.

I want to believe those words meant something.

But I can't shake the memory of his rage over the moon leaves. The way his eyes burned with fury. The way he refused to even share a bed with me.

I turn off the water. I dry myself with a towel that's softer than anything I've ever owned. Everything in this house is expensive. Pristine. Perfect.

It makes me uneasy to just walk around.

But I have duties now. I'm the Luna of the Blood Moon Pack. I can't hide in my room all day.

The thought sits heavy in my chest. Luna. Me. A girl whose biggest dream had only been to own her own bakery, is now forced to shoulder the title of a Luna.

I doubt I'll fare well.

I dress in a simple blue dress. Nothing fancy. I don't want to draw attention.

Then I take a deep breath and head downstairs.

Here goes nothing.

The kitchen is huge. Bigger than my entire childhood home.

I expected the Blood Moon Pack to be rich when my own Alpha brother described Tyron Stone as powerful and wealthy.

But this? Nothing could prepare me for this.

Servants bustle around. They chop vegetables, stir pots, and move around the kitchen with practiced efficiency.

None of them spare me glance.

I stand in the doorway, unsure. Do I introduce myself? Or just start helping?

An older woman stands in the center of the chaos. She doesn't move. Doesn't lift a spoon. Just overlooks everything with the sharp eyes of a manager.

She has the same cold smile I saw on Tyron's face last night. I guess this must be the Luna. Tyron's mom.

"You must be Sanya," she says, her voice cutting through the kitchen chaos. Everyone stops and turns to look at me.

I force myself to step forward. "Yes. I'm Sanya."

"I'm Luna Tara. Tyron's mother, and now, your mother-in-law."

I bow respectfully, my heart pounding in my ears. "It's an honor to meet you."

"We'll see about that."

She looks me up and down. Her gaze lingers on my dress. My hair. My face.

I feel naked under that stare.

"As the new Luna, you must cook for the pack," she says. "It's tradition. The first meal you serve sets the tone for your entire reign."

Reign. I'm not royalty. I have no power to even decide my marriage. But nobody is asking.

"Of course," I say. "What should I make?"

Her smile widens. "Make us a treat with sesame and coconut. The whole pack will taste it. You have one hour."

My heart sinks.

Coconut?

It's not in season. And even if it were, I'd have to go to the human city to buy it.

That's at least a thirty-minute drive. A round trip is an hour.

There's no way I can make it in time.

Tara knows this. I can see it in her eyes. This is a test, and one she expects me to fail.

The other servants watch me. Waiting for me to embarrass myself, to see the new Luna crumble on her first day.

A younger woman stands beside Tara. She has the same sharp eyes. The same cold smile.

She's beautiful. Polished. Everything I'm not.

"This is my daughter-in-law, Mira," Tara says. "She's married to Tyron's brother, John."

Mira smirks at me. "Good luck finding coconut in one hour."

She says it sweetly. But I hear the mockery underneath.

I take a deep breath and steel myself for the task ahead, unwilling to show weakness.

"I'll do my best," I say.

Tara waves her hand dismissively. "You may begin."

I nod, and go to my belongings. The servants brought them from my brothers' house early this morning.

They're stacked in boxes in the corner of the living room. My entire life reduced to five cardboard boxes.

I kneel down and start searching.

Clothes. My old jeans with the hole in the knee. The sweater my mother knit before she died.

Books. My favorite romance novel with the cracked spine. The cookbook I used to practice recipes.

Photos. Me and Aaron at the lake. Me and my brothers before our parents died. Before everything went wrong.

I push the photos aside. I can't think about that now.

Then I see it. A case at the bottom of the last box.

I open it.

Inside are shaved coconuts. Fresh. Perfect. Still moist.

My breath catches.

Aaron had said he'd pack everything we needed for our new life.

We'll have our own little kitchen, Sanya. You can make all my favorite treats. I'll eat until I'm too fat to move.

You'll never be fat. You run too much.

Then I'll stop running. I'll just eat your cooking all day.

These coconuts were meant for our first meal together. In our new home. In our new pack.

A bitter smile crosses my face.

At least his broken promise gave me something useful.

---

I carry the coconuts to the kitchen. My hands shake slightly, but I keep my head high.

Tara's eyes widen. Just for a second.

Then her face smooths back into that cold mask.

"You had coconuts?" she asks.

"Yes. I brought them from home."

It's not a lie. Not really. Aaron packed them, but they were in my boxes. My home now.

Tara exchanges a glance with Mira. Something passes between them. Disappointment. Anger.

I turn away. I start cooking.

My hands move automatically. Aaron loved this sweet. I made it for him dozens of times.

More cardamom, Sanya. I love the smell.

It'll be too strong.

Trust me. More.

The memory stings. But I push it away.

I'm not cooking for Aaron anymore. I'm cooking for my new family.

I toast the sesame seeds until they're golden. I grate the coconut flesh. I mix in sugar, cardamom, ghee.

The smell fills the kitchen. Sweet. Rich. Warm.

The servants pause in their work. They inhale deeply. One of them smiles before catching herself.

I shape the mixture into small balls. I roll them in more sesame seeds.

The treat comes together quickly. Muscle memory taking over.

I finish with five minutes to spare.

I arrange the sweets on a silver tray. They look perfect. Golden and gleaming.

Tara stares at the tray. She can't hide her disappointment.

"Serve it to everyone," she says coldly. "Including the servants."

---

I carry the tray to the dining room.

The room is massive. A long table stretches down the center. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling.

Tyron sits at the head of the table. He's dressed in a dark suit. His hair is perfectly styled.

He doesn't look at me.

His father sits beside him. Alpha Marcus. He has the same sharp features as Tyron. The same cold eyes.

Then John. He's younger than Tyron. Softer somehow. He gives me a small nod.

Then Mira. She smirks as I approach.

Tara takes her seat across from her husband.

I serve each person. They watch me with cold eyes.

My hands don't shake. I won't let them shake.

Finally, I serve the servants. They stand along the wall, ready to fetch whatever the family needs.

They look surprised. Grateful.

One of them mouths "thank you."

I'm about to sit when Tara speaks.

"Stand to the side. Wait until we're finished eating."

I freeze.

I look at Tyron. Surely he'll say something. Surely he'll tell his mother that his wife should sit with the family.

But he doesn't even glance at me.

He picks up his fork.

My heart sinks.

So much for being treated like a beauty blessed by the Creator.

I move to the side and stand with my hands clasped in front of me. My stomach growls.

I haven't eaten anything since yesterday afternoon.

My mouth waters at the scent of the coconut treats, but I try not to show it as they eat slowly. Deliberately.

Tormenting me.

Tara cuts her sweet into tiny pieces. She chews each one for an eternity.

Mira takes small bites. She dabs her lips with her napkin after each one.

Marcus doesn't even taste his. He just moves it around his plate.

Then Tyron takes a bite.

His eyes widen.

He chews slowly. Thoughtfully.

Then he takes another bite. And another.

"This is incredible," he says.

Everyone stops. They stare at him.

Tyron stands. He walks over to me.

My heart pounds.

He takes my hand. His touch is warm. Gentle.

He kisses my hand.

"You are the goddess of pastry," he says. "I've never tasted anything so delicious."

My cheeks flush. Despite everything, his praise makes me happy.

It makes me feel like maybe I can do this. Maybe I can be his Luna.

Everyone else tastes their sweets then. They nod. They murmur agreement.

"It's quite good," Marcus says grudgingly.

"Wonderful," John says. He sounds sincere.

Mira doesn't say anything. But she finishes her sweet.

Tyron still holds my hand. He looks at his mother.

"We'll hold her wedding reception tonight," Tara says.

Her voice is tight. Controlled.

"As a reward."

I bow. "Thank you."

But I see the anger in her eyes. The fury barely contained beneath that polite mask.

She wanted me to fail. She expected me to fail.

Instead, I succeeded.

Tyron releases my hand. He returns to his seat.

"You may eat now," Tara says to me. "In the kitchen."

---

I take my sweet and go to the kitchen.

I sit on a stool in the corner. I eat quickly.

The servants bustle around me. They don't speak. But I catch their glances.

Some look sympathetic. Others look curious.

One older woman brings me a glass of water.

"Thank you," I whisper.

She nods. Then she returns to her work.

I finish eating and wash my plate in the sink.

Then I go upstairs to my room. To prepare for tonight's reception.

This isn't over. I know that.

Tara's eyes promised this isn't over.

She'll make me pay for foiling whatever scheme she had in mind.

But for now, I won this round.