The Sacred Luna

Chapter 4

(Sanya's POV)

As I follow Tyron into the Alpha mansion, my heels click sharply against the marble floors, drawing attention.

Servants bow as we pass, their spines curving, their eyes glued to the ground like they're afraid to see us. Afraid to see me.

The house is huge. Cold. Empty despite all the people scurrying around like mice.

Crystal chandeliers hang from ceilings so high I have to crane my neck to see them. Paintings line the walls—stern-faced Alphas from generations past, all of them looking down at me with the same cold judgment I see in Tyron's eyes.

The air smells like expensive polish and fresh flowers, but underneath it all is something else. Something that makes my stomach clench.

Fear, maybe. Or despair.

Tyron leads me upstairs. His hand doesn't touch me. He doesn't look back to see if I'm following.

He just walks, and I trail behind him like a shadow.

We pass door after door. The hallway stretches on forever. My dress is so heavy. Each step feels like I'm dragging chains.

Finally, he stops in front of a set of double doors. Dark wood. Gold handles."This is where you'll sleep," he says.

I nod. I can't speak. My throat has closed up completely.

He opens the door. I step inside.The bedroom is massive. A four-poster bed dominates the center, draped in white silk. More paintings. More crystal. A balcony overlooks the gardens. Everything is perfect. Pristine.

And the bed is covered in strange leaves. Not roses. Leaves.

They're scattered across the white silk like someone threw them there in a hurry. Dark green. Glossy. They don't belong.

Tyron's face goes pale. Then red.

"What is this?" he roars.

His voice explodes through the room. I flinch, stumbling back.

Servants rush in from nowhere. They stare at the leaves, their faces going white.

"Moon leaves, Alpha," one servant whispers. An older woman with gray hair. Her hands shake as she points. "Someone put moon leaves on the bed."

"I'm allergic to moon leaves!" Tyron shouts. "Who did this?"

No one answers. They all look at each other. At the floor. At anything but Tyron.

His rage fills the room like smoke. I can barely breathe.He turns to me. His eyes burn with something terrible."Did you do this?"

"No!" The word bursts out. "I just got here. I don't even know what moon leaves are."I'm telling the truth. I've never heard of moon leaves in my life. How could I have done this?He stares at me. His jaw clenches. A muscle twitches in his cheek.

Then he storms out, hollering, "Clean this up! And bring separate beds. We're sleeping apart tonight."

The servants scramble to obey. They move like mice who had spotted a cat, frantic and terrified, yet so silent.

I stand alone in the room. My wedding night. And my husband won't even sleep in the same bed as me.

Maybe that's better. I don't want him to touch me anyway.

The thought comes unbidden, and shame floods through me. Tyron Stone is now my husband. As a wife, I shouldn't be having such thoughts on my wedding night.

But I can't help it. The way he looked at me just now—like I'm something dirty. Something that offended him just by existing, makes me want to keep a distance from him.

The servants bring two beds. They place them on opposite sides of the room, as far apart as the space allows. They remove the moon leaves, gathering them carefully into a basket like they're handling poison.

One of the younger servants—a girl maybe my age—catches my eye. She looks at me with pity.

I look away, not understanding why she would look at me that way.

Oh, wait. Tonight is my wedding night, and yet, my husband proposed to sleep separately. That must be why.

Though I could care less, word will spread. I can already imagine the servants gossiping about me.

I change into a nightgown. Simple white cotton. My hands shake as I pull it over my head.

I climb into my bed. The sheets are cold. Crisp. They smell like lavender.

Tyron returns hours later. I hear his footsteps in the hallway. The door opens. Closes.

He doesn't look at me. He goes straight to his bed.

The room goes dark.

I lie awake. Tears slide down my cheeks, hot and silent. I press my face into the pillow so he won't hear me cry.

Aaron, why didn't you come? Did you stop loving me? Did my brothers scare you away?

The questions circle in my head like vultures. I have no answers. Only this cold bed. This cold room. This cold man sleeping across from me.

I fall asleep crying.---When I wake up, something feels wrong.

I open my eyes slowly. The room is dim. Early morning light filters through the curtains, turning everything gray.

And Tyron is kneeling beside my bed. His hands are stretched out under my feet.

I jerk back, my heart slamming against my ribs. "What are you doing?"

He looks up at me. His eyes are soft. Gentle. Nothing like yesterday.

Nothing like the man who raged about moon leaves and separate beds."My wife is a beauty blessed by the Creator," he says. His voice is quiet. Reverent, almost. "She deserves to be treated with care. Her feet should not touch the cold floor."

I stare at him, stunned. Is this the same man who raged about moon leaves last night? The same man who couldn't even stand to look at me?

"I... I don't understand."

"You don't need to understand." He stands, still holding his hands out. "Just know that as my Luna, I will give you the honor you deserve."

He helps me to my feet. His touch is gentle. Careful, like I'm made of glass. My heart stutters at his attentiveness.

Maybe... maybe this marriage won't be so bad after all.

Maybe his short temper yesterday was due to stress. The wedding. The guests. And then there was the incident with the moon leaves.

He did say he was allergic to them.

So maybe that wasn't the real Tyron.

Maybe I can learn to love him. Maybe he can learn to love me.

I push thoughts of Aaron away.

Aaron abandoned me. He left me standing on that road. He broke his promise.

Tyron is my husband now. This is now my life.

And I will make this marriage work.

For my family's honor. For my parents' memory.

I will be a good wife. A good Luna.

I have to be.