Luna's Moon

Is ignorance really bliss? I mused, watching my werewolf boyfriend dance with his co-worker — stars practically shooting out of his eyes. It honestly couldn’t have been more obvious if they tried. And yes, I’m dating a werewolf. Even though I’m not one. Is that the problem? I don’t think so. Ever since werewolves were discovered to have secretly lived among us — and an agreement was struck — we’ve all tried to live as amicably as possible. Eventually, werewolves began dating humans. Why? Because of a mate scarcity. Their soulmates, supposedly chosen by the Moon Goddess, had stopped appearing. Generations waited — and died — hoping. But at some point, they figured the goddess had quit on them. Life had to go on. It wasn’t all bad. Some human-werewolf relationships actually thrived, with happy endings and fairytale weddings. My ancestors would have loved this era — all their supernatural fantasies coming to life. But I think they would’ve been disappointed in me. Two relationships. Both with were-men. One ghosted me after a year. The second? Well, he’s currently slow-dancing with his “just a friend” co-worker — the same one whose picture is his phone’s home screen — at a public event we were both invited to. And I’m just standing here. Watching. Stella approached me, fire blazing in her eyes. I shook my head at her, already knowing what she was about to say — but of course, she wasn’t deterred. "You're just going to watch?" I finished off my drink and casually plucked a second one from the tray of a passing waiter. I sipped it slowly, partly because I needed time to think… and partly because I needed something to keep my hands busy. Stella, Brian (my boyfriend), and I all worked at Top Tier — yes, the actual name of the company, and fitting too. Stella is the General Manager — and a werewolf, like my boyfriend. And me? I’m just a human secretary to Mr. Gordon, one of the firm’s top executives. He invited me personally to this event — very honorably, I might add. Being a human working at Top Tier is already a privilege. Attending an elite werewolf-human event like this? That’s a whole other level. So no, I couldn’t exactly throw a tantrum. Even if every cell in my body wanted to march across the floor and rip her lush, beautiful blonde hair straight from her scalp. Ugh. Why do they look so good together? "Great party, am I right?" I lifted my half-full glass in a casual salute toward Stella. "Luna..." Her voice softened. Ugh. Fantastic. Add her to the growing list of pitying gazes being thrown my way. Most of our coworkers were here, and none of them were blind to the cozy, borderline indecent PDA going on at the dance floor. Seriously, would it have killed him to dance with me first? "I'm fine, Stella. I knew, remember?" "Still doesn't make it okay. Want me to beat his ass for you?" Her piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, full of sincerity. She meant it. And with her were-strength, she could actually do some damage. She had the full package — were-beauty, were-elegance, and that supernatural presence that made people stop and stare when she walked into a room. They all had it. Is that what he wanted? A werewolf like him? Or... was it me? Was it because I couldn’t put out? I never could go all the way. Even with their perfect bodies and dreamy smiles, I always stalled at third base. "Don't." Her voice cut in, sharp and certain. "Don't blame yourself for this, or doubt yourself either. You're beautiful, brilliant, and funny... you don't need him." Preach. "I wasn't," I denied weakly. Totally was. "I hate men," Stella announced dramatically. "You really don't have to do this, Stella," I chuckled, finishing off my second drink and already eyeing a third. "How do I comfort you then?... Tell me." She leaned in closer, brows drawn tight with worry. I was her first human friend—she took that seriously. "How would you normally comfort someone?" "I'd get revenge." She grinned, eyes flashing with that signature werewolf wickedness. Wow. Yeah, no. We’re definitely not doing that.