Luna
The days pass in a blur as I get to know the three men who took me in while trying not to be a burden, be polite, and not bring them down with my grief. Sometimes, the pain of losing Mama hits me fresh, and I have to go curl up in the bed and hope I won’t wake up. I remember what she said about not trusting wolves, and also what they said about being outlaws, which is better than a pack and more trustworthy. Maybe they’re right. These men don’t seem so scary once I know them a little, though Warrick’s always grumpy and watches me with as much suspicion as I have of him.
Over the next few days, Callan tends to me when I’m sad and makes sure I eat, Ethan teaches me how to wash the sheets so I can have a clean bed, and Warrick just watches when he’s around. They all go off to “a job,” which Ethan says is just another way of saying digging ditches, during most of daylight hours for a couple days. When they’re gone, I clean up the messy house some and wash the clothes that are scattered everywhere.
A few mornings later, I’m dragged from sleep by the sound of the brothers’ shouts. Sliding from the sheets, I stealth-walk across the bedroom and crack the door.
“We can’t take care of another stray,” Warrick roars. “She’s a puppy in a wolf’s body.”
“But-” Callan starts.
Warrick cuts him off. “We have no idea why she was in that swamp. If she really lived there, she was probably on the run from something, which means that something is still out there, still after her. Which means she’ll bring trouble straight here.” A loud pounding rattles the air like Warrick is hammering the table with his fist. “Why should we put ourselves in danger for someone we don’t even know?”
“We can protect her,” Callan says. “If something’s coming after her, she won’t make it on her own. She can’t defend herself. But we can.”
“No, goddamn it,” Warrick snarls. “She can’t be trusted. She could be lying about everything. We have no proof that she even lost her mother. That could be just a story she told us to get sympathy.”
The pain in my chest flares at the reminder of the constant ache of what I’ve lost. Mama, gone. My home, abandoned.
The scratch of the little stick Warrick uses to light the end of his roll of dried leaves crackles into the air. Then, the smell of the burning leaves tickles my nose.
“We can’t keep her,” Warrick says in a softer tone. “She’s a liability to what we’ve made for ourselves here. For all we know, she’s one of
Axel’s, come to catch us in the act.”
I fling open the door and march out of the bedroom, my hands balled into fists by my side. They’re in the kitchen sitting around the table. Three heads turn to stare at me as I march into the kitchen.
“Y’all think I’m lying about losing the only person in my life?” I demand.
With three sets of eyes glued to my body, I’m suddenly aware of how alone I am. They’re each bigger than any one man ought to be, and they have the armor of ink on their skin and clothes on top of that. Most of all, they have each other, and being together makes them three times as strong as each man is alone.
I’m one little wolf, without even a set of clothes to call my own. I stand in the kitchen with all I have-my own body, which they’re all three staring at like they’d like to gobble it down in one bite. I’ve never felt so small, so vulnerable, so much in need of someone on my side.
“You want me to go home, I’ll go,” I say. “I didn’t ask you to bring me here. I never wanted to be a bother, but y’all told me to stay when I made to leave.”
“You’re not a bother,” Callan says, standing and peeling off his t- shirt. His muscles ripple in waves under his skin as he hands me his shirt. I
swallow, pulling my eyes away from the mesmerizing sight of all that strength and power in one body.
I pull on his shirt, grateful for the warmth and the comforting smell of my favorite brother surrounding me. I’m shaking, though I don’t feel cold, and it helps soothe down my nerves.
“If you don’t believe me, ask Healer Artuna,” I say to Warrick. “Mama’s dead body is still at her place if she hasn’t fed it to the gators yet.”
Ethan pushes back from the table and declares, “I think she’s telling the truth.”
Warrick sucks on the end of his rolled leaves and exhales a plume of smoke. “If you expect us to trust you, you’d better get to talking,” he says. “You been a week, and we don’t know the first thing about you. Who killed your mama? Why were you living in the swamp? What happened that left you lying in the swamp for dead? Who’s after you?”
“You’re upsetting her,” Callan says, guiding me to a chair. “Let me get you some food, Luna, and we’ll talk. We’re happy to share what we got, but we’d like to get to know you better.”
I nod, grateful for the moment to get my thoughts together. He delivers me a plate of meat and eggs, along with a cup of the bitter black water they drink. They call it coffee and drink it like it’s water, though I can
only drink half a cup of it before I start shaking and feeling like I might explode.
“Go on then,” Ethan says, snagging the bag of leaves from Warrick.
He starts making a little roll of them inside the paper they use while I talk.
“The only people I’ve ever met before you guys are the wolf pack,” I say. “And that was just a few days ago, I think two days before you found me. Mama got attacked by a panther in the swamp, and then this awful wolf found me. She promised to help Mama if I came back to the pack with her. I knew not to trust her, but I didn’t have a choice if I wanted to help Mama.”
Callan scoots over and lays a hand on my leg. It’s rough and hard on the palm, but his touch is gentle and sends warmth creeping up my thigh in a way that’s too distracting.
“Go on,” he says. “You’re doing great, Luna.”
I take a deep breath, gripping the fork to keep from shaking. “I went back with them, and this wolf named Axel said I’d be his True Mate. I sort of knew what it meant but not really, because it turns out it means he has to stab my heat with a meat stick called a cock, and then I got this mark.”
I pull up the oversized sleeve of Callan’s shirt and show them the mark, which glowed like a full moon the first night I got it. After it burst into flame, it was an angry blister, but after a quarter moon’s worth of days
have passed, it’s only an angry red scar. The pain of the wound still hurts down deep in my soul when I look at it, though.
I drop the sleeve just in time to catch a look I don’t understand passing between the men. Ethan’s mouth is twitching. Callan is gazing at me with eyes that warm the cavity inside my chest but also make it ache. Warrick’s brows are drawn together like he’s even madder than usual. He sucks hard on his smoke stick, his eyes flashing with danger.
“And then what?” he asks, his voice a growl that makes me cringe instinctually.
“And then I didn’t like that, so I ran away and met a vampire,” I say. “But I guess that was the wrong thing to do because Axel was very mad when he found out I talked to him, and he said-” My voice catches, and my throat aches so bad I have to stop and hitch in a breath. “He said I was a traitor. That we couldn’t be mates anymore.”
A hot tear spills from my lashes and rolls down my cheek when I remember the shame and confusion of that moment. “And then,” I choke out past the tears. “And then he brought a shaman to dissolve the bond, and her magic reached into my soul and ripped it out of my body, tearing me to shreds from the inside out.”
I can’t hold back the tears now, and they stream down my cheeks like angry brands, reminding me of the pain and shame of being rejected.
“Fucking hell,” Ethan mutters, lighting the smoke stick he made. “This calls for more than breakfast. Get this chick a beer, and here, take my cigarette, Luna.”
I shake my head, determined to get through this if only to walk away without letting Warrick think I’m a liar and a spy.
“The fates weren’t done with me yet,” I say, forcing back a sob. “I ran out of there and went to my mama, because even though I mostly take care of her, she still makes me feel cared for when I’m hurt, like she did when I was little. But when I got to the healer’s, Mama died right there before my very eyes.”
“Luna,” Callan says, scooting closer. But I’m suddenly filled with anger at him, too. Not just Warrick, but Callan, who I know dragged me from the swamp.
I push away and jump to my feet, tearing off Callan’s shirt and hurling it at his feet. “I just wanted to die,” I say. “I didn’t ask to be rescued. I don’t need to be rescued. So you can go back to living your happy lives just like you were before, and you don’t have to worry if you can trust me, because I won’t be around to wonder about!”
By the time I finish, I’m sobbing and yelling at once. The pain of what happened crashes over me like ocean waves now that I had to say it out loud for all of them to hear, and shame fills me until I can’t contain it
anymore. So I turn and run out of the house, away from them, away from everything.