Bad Boy Alphas (BxB)

07. Let's Get Hexed

Luna is tired.

She's really tired. She's been tired for a while now. It took organizing this entire ballroom event to finally have her caving into fatigue. Not that deities such as herself require sleep, but it's still nice to indulge in.

After teleporting back to her invisible domain nestled in between the stars, the sweet sound of silence greeting her ears, she realizes that it truly has been a long time since she's gotten some shut eye.

It's been a little over two centuries now, to be exact. Ever since the creation of werewolves themselves.

Ever since the blood war against the other goddesses who are no more.

The flashbacks of those days, the very same ones she's been avoiding, creep into her mind, but she allows for exhaustion to override the brain instead. All this time, she has not known slumber's embrace; it is practically a foreign concept to her.

Now is indeed the perfect time for her to hibernate the entire year away. She'll have to set the alarm to go off three hundred and sixty-four days from now.

Blood Moon and Grave Shadow may be no more by the time she awakens. She knows this to be a possibility, yet what's done is done. Had she not intervened sooner, had she continued to let fate run its course, one of them was bound to challenge her authority after taking over the rest of the other werewolf packs. She knows this to be true.

As the lights to the purple crystals above her dim, flickering and faint in correspondence to her swaying consciousness, she thinks back on what she said earlier.

"It's not for anyone to decide whether they get to own other packs and take over the world. Not when this world isn't yours to rule."

Once she dives headfirst into a floating queen's bed, the newly set alarm clock tangling in the sheets with her, the weight of her lashes hangs heavy while her eyes drift closed.

And then, for the first time in lycan history, she's out like a light. Darkness consumes all, extinguishing the glow from her levitating crystals. Shadows stifle her thoughts and obscure her vision. No longer is she the Goddess of the Moon, Mother of Lycanthropes, and the Judge of Fate.

For now, she's simply Luna.

Just Luna.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

They only realize what the hex does when they try to leave.

After the massive shit show that's gone down, the last thing Jax wants to do is deal with even more magical nonsense. Yet once the crowd has dispersed for the night, with Blood Moon and Grave Shadow the only ones left standing outside of Luna's palace, they find another problem in their hands.

Out of all the strokes of misfortune to befall them, this one has to be his last straw — his final shred of sanity, torn to ribbons.

Because Jax can't fucking go home. And yes, he's tried. Many times he's tried, but he can't.

He literally can't.

For what feels like the hundredth time, he storms through one way and Cyrus barrels down the opposite direction. Cold winds bite at his nose and cheeks as he takes the right side of the ashen white field. Meanwhile, Cyrus takes the left, trampling over thick mounds of snow. The distance between them expands, a flurry of snowflakes swirling in their wake.

From the sidelines, the pack members that they've brought with them register the scene that's about to unravel with rapt attention. As they awkwardly settle in the background — right in the middle of the two alphas — they witness the same damn event that doesn't seem to end.