The Luna's Contract

5. Conflict

( CAMILLA )

"Of course." I extended my hand towards Conan, accepting his invitation to dance.

As our fingers touched, waves of electricity coursed through my body, giving me a strange pleasure. Is this how a Mate connection is supposed to work? If it keeps going like this, I'll go mad. At least for a while I have to distance myself from the strange feeling of looking into the eyes of one of them, the pleasurable touch and the attraction that is hard to explain. It is foolish to give in to these strong emotions, these two men are strangers.

Conan's hand slid down my back, finding a comfortable spot to rest his hand on. The line his fingers traveled made my skin feel tingly in a strange and exciting way, in response to his touch. One, two, three - the dance steps echoed in my mind, with only a few centimeters separating our faces. The lingering smell of fresh cologne, mixed with the zest of lemon, made butterflies flutter in my stomach. Two brown eyes looked straight at me; the corner of his plump lips turned up slightly. Conan's eyes drifted from my eyes to my lips, then back again, shining like little stars.

We've met before, under completely different circumstances. Snow Pack Alpha Conan otherwise known as the Snow Pack Warrior General, who holds the highest position in the military, leading his pack to victory, authorizing laws, assignments, and other important rules. Always solid, with a stern tone of voice, alert and ready. But now, he is completely different, a little more relaxed than last time.

"Lieutenant Camilla Heins, it's good to see you relaxed and not in your uniform." The corner of Conan's lips turned up.

"No titles to be honored today, I'm just Camilla." I shook my head, denying Conan's words.

"Yes, I apologize for my tactless behavior. It's probably rude to ask, but today is your eighteenth birthday, right?" Conan's eyebrow rose, his gaze flicking over my shoulder for a moment.

"I think you know the answer to your question, Conan." The silent words slipped from my lips.

"That's right, you feel it?" Conan's face betrayed a sliver of surprise, but still hid behind a mask of confidentiality.

"It doesn't matter, Conan. I'm not going to fall under your feet just because my wolf might be acting strangely. I don't know who you are. The title's just a cover. I prefer communication to blind passion." The voice coming from my lips became a little lower and angrier.

Conan's loud, deep and sincere laughter spread around. The brown eyes that now looked like light caramel looked right at me. Our intertwined fingers were constantly sending pleasant shivers through my body, but I successfully ignored it all with a cold mind.

"I'm not going to force you to do what you don't want to do. Everyone in this pack has the right to choose, to have their own dreams, wishes, desires and love. Time will tell, there are many more to come. May I offer you a date before the end of our dance, Miss Heins?" The corner of Conan's lips lifted; his hand pressed me tighter against his firm chest.

Conan's hand released my back, our joined hands rising higher as he gracefully circled me and drew me back into his embrace. My body was strangely relaxed, although I'm not an expert in dancing, but moving to the rhythm of the music was very easy.

"Ready for another little trick?" Conan smirked; his forehead touched mine.

The words didn't leave my lips before Conan put his arm around me and pulled me closer to him. My back rested against his firm chest, our joined hands resting on my stomach, his other hand on my waist. His hand on my waist pushed me forward, and I twisted in a circle, freeing myself from his grasp until the length of my arm prevented me from letting go.

Suddenly two strong hands touched my waist, changing my direction with a sudden movement, and my fingers released Conan's hand. My body moved to the rhythm of the waltz, but it took me a few moments to concentrate on the person who suddenly occupied me and took me away from my dance partner.

"I hope you don't mind; will you dance with me?" Marcel's low voice, like a whisper, came from his lips.

I glanced over my shoulder to make sure Conan wasn't angry. Marcel's soft fingers touched my cheek, returning my attention to him before I could reach my goal.

"Your dance partner is right in front of you, there's no need to look over your shoulder." Marcel's calm voice drifted around, and the fingers from my face found a spot at the curve of my back.

"It's not nice to steal women like that." I smiled slyly towards him.

"This dance was supposed to be mine, but unexpected things got in the way. But if you don't like my company, I can let you go." Marcel's green eyes looked straight at me, straight into my soul.

Strangely enough, it gives off a feeling of security. Marcel has been on my radar for a very long time. I used to look at him from the second floor, through the glass wall, every year, secretly. It was just a few moments of curiosity, of adolescent charm looking at a dark figure in a crowd. Every year, this man takes part in the White Banquet, partying with everyone, and the next day he is gone. What is Marcel's real identity and past? The stylish clothes, the deep gaze and the powerful aura that emanates from him.

"Where are your thoughts, Miss Heins?" Marcel's voice brought me back to the dance floor.

Daydreaming? I would call it a rush of memories that makes my cheeks flush. The glimpse that wandered among the dancing persons returned to the green eyes that studied my face. The man I used to dream about when I was younger, the person who raised so many questions.

" Nothing special. Sentimental memories." I said looking into his eyes.

"How long have you known my sister Hazel?" Marcel's low voice sounded low, like a secret.

"Why don't you ask her yourself? I think we can find a more interesting topic of conversation." I rolled my eyes while my legs moved in a slow and dreamy waltz.

Marcel smiled broadly, the green eyes that were so reminiscent of the vast, boundless meadows shining right back at me.

"For what purpose do you come to this celebration every year?" Marcel's fingers traveled up and down my back, slowly, leisurely.

"Stupid question. This celebration happens every year, it's the one day when we are all equal and no orders apply. Although you don't understand it, you give the orders, you don't carry them out." A few lines were etched in my forehead, but a smile soon graced my face, not wanting to seem presumptuous.

"Not everyone in the Alpha position is in charge." Marcel shook his head slightly, as if considering something in his mind.

Lie, it is the duty of every Alpha to lead, to maintain order within the confines of his pack and to ensure safety and peace. Laws, wars, duties, jobs, every little thing is headed by the strongest person in the pack.

"Lies." The lips formed one word, almost without sound.

"Would you believe it if I told you that life is completely different behind the walls? I'm not talking about the walls that enclose the borders of the Snow Pack. I'm talking about the ones that enclose every settlement, starting with the lowest werewolves, then the healers, the medics, the military and finally the higher werewolf settlements." Marcel's voice has become quieter, as if he were saying something no one can know.

Yes, every settlement is fenced. In Alpha Conan's words, it's the defensive part, in case of an enemy attack. The fence above is probably four meters high and starts behind this main building, what's behind it? It's hard to say, only people with the surname Grey or members of the pack with special permits can get through.

"I think behind that wall is just the home of a high-ranking member of the military staff, a person with the surname Grey, the oldest werewolf, and another very important member. Unless I'm mistaken?" There was a note of doubt in his voice, and one eyebrow rose.

Marcel scattered my thoughts with his laughter, then took a step towards me, slowly and gracefully bending me down, but holding me still. The song was over, just a few centimeters separated our faces, I could feel the warm air he breathed out and it bounced off my skin, the heat coming off him was intoxicating.

Suddenly Marcel's arms let go of me, my back hit the ground, and a commotion was heard all around. In the blink of an eye, Marcel was on the ground and Conan was sitting on top of him, his fists working in the direction of his brother. The older brother blocked the blow, pushing his brother with a strong movement who slid down the slippery tiles to the nearest table. The crashing glasses clinked all around, both brothers rose from the ground, coming towards each other, anger glittering in their eyes. One step away from disaster, I stood between Conan and Marcel with my arms stretched out to my sides.

"Stop, right now." A strong growl came from my chest.

People were gathering around, little by little the commotion had turned into an unbearable buzz. Tension was in the air; I could touch it with my fingers. Marcel's lip was pierced, his feet planted firmly on the ground, with a backward movement of his hand he wiped the blood from his face. Conan's breath quickened, his brow furrowed, and his yellowish hair disarranged. Neither said a word, but their stares said it all.

"What's going on here? Why has the music stopped? Why isn't anyone having fun?" In the distance, I heard a man's voice ringing and I knew him - Jordan

The surroundings seemed to freeze, the seconds ticked by in my mind, and a man with grey hair and eyes full of anger stepped into the circle of people forming around us. Conan and Marcel's bodies relaxed, they took a few steps back, increasing the distance between them.

"Marcel and Conan, you're coming with me. Right now. Everyone else, go back to your fun." Jordan clapped his hands, instantly dissipating all tension.

Who wants to listen to a former Alpha? But to my surprise, everyone around me returned to their original spots, and the intrusive buzzing ceased little by little. My lungs filled with air; I didn't notice that I had been holding my breath. Hands dropped to my side, and a glance went over my shoulder towards two silhouettes walking in the same direction.

"Miss Heins, don't just stand there, you're coming also." Lillian's voice rang out next to me, making me cringe.

I raised my head and walked forward, changing my direction towards Conan and Marcel who were in front. To my right, the silent clatter of high heels and two green eyes fixed on me, Lillian. This woman's aura, thick and heavy, as if weighing on my shoulders. The question was, why did Conan hit Marcel? In my mind I already know the answer - they are competing for me. My heart thought it would go easier, stupid heart.

I approached a wide white door with a long dark brown corridor behind it. The light is kept on by large christening chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Echoing footsteps, awkward silence and the end of the corridor. We walked through another heavy door behind which a bright room, so white, my hand covered my eyes.

Conan, Jordan and Marcel stood in a semicircle, all eyes on me, they were waiting patiently for me and Lillian. My feet were firmly planted on the ground stopping in place, Lillian stopped on my left.

"Miss Heins, would you kindly explain?" Jordan's stern voice rang out in the large, extremely empty surroundings.

I bit my lip mentally trying to put together the right sentence for how this was all supposed to sound. Excuse me, Mr. Jordan, but your sons are mine now? Ahh, that sounds too sarcastic. How can I put this in a slightly different way?

"Camilla is my mate, I haven't been able to smell her for two years. The explanation is simple, she turns eighteen today." Conan's calm voice drifted around the room, drawing everyone's attention.

"I dare you to object, brother. Camilla Heins is my mate. Seven years of solitude." Marcel's deadly gaze fell on Conan.

"Camilla Heins, do these persons lie? What do you feel for each of them?" Lillian's soft voice touched my ears, her hand landed on my shoulder.

"It's true." The short, clear and harsh words slipped from my lips, my gaze going straight to the green eyes of the woman standing next to me.

"Lillian, dear, the decision is clear. Invite Matilda." Jordan's voice became lower, stern, and something strange shone in his eyes.