Blessed By The Moon

Chapter 11

I remember my second day at Alison and Howell's house. They'd gone out to get groceries, scouring thrift stores for clothes that might fit me, while I'd crashed into an exhausted midday nap, curtains drawn tight against the sunlight. 

Axe's room had been handed over to me, at least temporarily. It felt strangely comfortable, even though I still wasn't entirely sure I hadn't wandered into a house of potential serial killers.

Halfway through my nap, the door creaked open, and Alex slipped inside, moving through the shadows. He seemed to be searching for something, rifling through the room quietly but thoroughly. My stomach churned, wondering if he was up to something, maybe perving on me. My instincts screamed, so I grabbed the lamp on the nightstand and hurled it at him, aiming low in case I was wrong.

The lamp hit him square in the back, and he spun around with a speed that left me frozen, caught between blinking and staring, my brain fumbling to process how someone could move that fast, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me in the dark. 

For a long second, he just looked at me with an unreadable expression, as if trying to figure out what I was doing in his room. Then, something seemed to click, and he let out a sigh.

"I thought you went out with them," he muttered. "Didn't know you'd be here."

I should have realized then that he didn't so much as groan in pain. 

I stammered an apology, realizing just how impulsive I'd been. Alex shrugged it off. "It's fine. I just—look, I hide my stash here. I'll just grab it and leave you to it."

He moved around the room, pulling bags from under the mattress, from a hidden drawer in the nightstand, he even stood in front of me and pointed to the pillow, when I handed it to him, he pulled a bag from inside it. I laughed quietly, it was almost comical.

When he'd gathered everything, he wished me a stiff "good night" and left—only to come right back a second later. He paused, looking at the broken lamp, the one that broke because I threw it at him, and then at me, as if he'd realized something.

"Don't want you to get in trouble for breaking that," he said quietly. "After all, it was my fault." Then he carefully picked it up and left, returning moments later with an identical lamp.

"They have a spare in the living room. I'll just tell them I dropped that one by mistake. Anyway, sorry again. Sleep well." He put it in place of the other one.

I could only nod, trying to hide the embarrassment heating my cheeks. After that, he gave me space, almost too much. Our interactions were very limited, especially when he went back to university.

Which now I realize must've been a lie, he must've been here the whole time.

Back then, I thought he was just a quiet guy who didn't care for people. Now, I understand he didn't care for humans. 

And now—some bitter twist of fate had made him the one about to kill me, and that detached, distant boy is now mated to me.

...

Axe took two steps closer, his expression a storm of emotions—anger, fear, sadness, even happiness, but most of all, guilt. His gaze on me was raw, as if he couldn't fully grasp what had happened. I took a step back with each one he took forward, and silence stretched over the crowd. Everyone knew now. 

I was a werewolf. And more than that, I was their Luna—their leader.

The crowd that had once chanted for my death now looked at me with a strange reverence. In a synchronized movement, the guards shifted into their wolf forms, the air rippling as fur and claws emerged.