The True Luna's Kiss

The door to the cell slammed open, and a large shadow filled the entire door frame. Sirona shivered at the new presence, the new scent she couldn't place. It definitely wasn't one of her pack, she knew all of their scents. She peeked out at the shadow, her head low, peering through her arms slung across her knees. She huddled in the corner of the cell, making herself as small as possible, trying to conserve the small amount of body heat. The shadowed figure took a step inside, their presence and aura filling the small concrete room, even where their physical stature couldn't reach. Sirona blinked at the harsh light that flooded the room from behind. Raising her hand to shield her eyes, she tried to focus on the figure to get a look at them. A growl came from the shadow and a single word.... "MINE!" * * * Dark hair fell over her eyes, and she tried to move, to push it away. She could not. Her hands were once again bound, chained to the wall above her head, all movement restricted. That could only mean one thing. She was about to have company. Shaking her head, Sirona managed to clear her vision and scanned the room. Her room. Her cell. Bathed in darkness, with only a weak light from around the single door, the concrete block was home. The only home Sirona had known for her entire life. And she had lost count of the years after twenty-five or twenty-six had crawled by. Time was no longer a real concept to her. She ate when she was fed, which wasn't often. She slept when she was tired on a small mattress on the floor. A small sink and toilet were fixed to the floor, and there were no privacy screens. No books. No entertainment. And no conversation with another person. She had learned some basic language when she was younger, and from the mind links that went to the whole pack. But that was the extent of her education. As soon as she came into her power, she was captive, and she was used for her power whenever she was needed. She was always chained up when they came. Testing her restraints once again, Sirona tipped her head back against the wall and sighed. What would it be this time? "Probably another cold or flu," Briar said, stretching herself out. Sirona breathed a sigh of relief. The wolfsbane was wearing off, allowing her wolf spirit to speak to her. Shifting was out of the question, but for a few days each moon cycle, Sirona could speak with Briar, learn from her. For a few days each moon cycle, she wasn't entirely alone. Sirona had first heard Briar at twenty one, just whispers, murmurs at first. But eventually, it got longer. A few days of conversation, of company. It felt like a miracle. And then it stopped. They came and injected her with wolfsbane and Briar disappeared. Sirona returned to the constant days of silence and darkness. And then, as the wolfsbane wore off, Briar came back. Each month, as Sirona got stronger and the poison that suppressed her wolf wore off quicker, they had more and more time together. Until Briar pushed her way forward when they came to use Sirona's power one morning. Then they increased the dosage. It took 4 months for Sirona to fight through the wolfsbane, and for Briar to come back. After that, Briar didn't snap at any more pack members, and they didn't increase the dose any futher. The door opened, creaking on its hinges, casting a light across the floor. Sirona slammed her eyes shut, unable to cover them wih her bound hands and unable to take the light now blasting into them. The movement made one of the interlopers chuckle. The others were in too much of a hurry to notice. They were carrying something into the room and placed it in front of her. Sirona blinked her eyes open, and tried to focus them on the man in front of her. She sighed. This was going to hurt. The man was bleeding, heavily. A s***h wound across the stomach, skin in tatters. The man was an absolute mess, sure to bleed out and die any moment. Except he was here. With Sirona. The men that brought him to the dungeons were laughing, joking amongst themselves. "He'll remember to move quicker next time!" One said, lifting Sirona's top, exposing her stomach. "He sure will," Another said. "The Alpha won't go easy on him, he never does." He lifted the man's hand and pulled it towards Sirona's stomach. She tensed, bracing herself. "There is no reason to go easy in training," the third one chuckled. "Not when we have her!" He gestured to Sirona and she winced. She was ready for the contact. Tensed and braced, ready for the pain. The second man pressed the hand of the wounded to her stomach. And Sirona threw her head back, mouth open in a silent scream. A single red line appeared across her pale skin, splitting it open. Blood started to trickle down, slowly, colouring her skin and starting to pool on the floor. Tears ran down Sirona's face, she tried to push the pain out with them. More and more lines split across Sirona's stomach, drenching her with blood, ripping her apart. She finally let out a scream, so full of pain and rage it would break the heart of most. But not the men in the cell with her. They laughed. The wounded man laughed, as he started to sit up. The cuts were disappearing, transferring over to the woman chained to the wall. He stood up and looked down at Sirona. Her breath coming out in little sobs, she hung limp against her shackles, her stomach in tatters. The blood had stopped pouring out, the healing process started. Sirona managed to open her eyes a little and take in the scene in front of her. The man was healed, standing and high-fiving with his friends. Not looking at her, not caring about her pain. Just enjoying their perfect health once again. Letting Sirona take the suffering, letting her gift heal it all. Tears fell again, not for pain, but for sorrow. This was her life. This was her entire life. Living in a cell, never leaving. Never talking to anyone but Briar. And the intermittent pain they inflicted on her, knowing she could handle it, but not really caring if she did. "Thanks toots," the healed man said as he closed the door, plunging Sirona into darkness once again.