Chương 2: Chapter 2

I jolt awake from a fitful shift.

Lunar firecrackers explode over my manor, their deafening booms rattling the ancient stone walls. Colorful sparks—meant to mimic a moonbow—rain down like a mocking curtain, bathing the scene in a sickly, otherworldly glow.

Juliet Darkmore's sickly-sweet croon pierces the silence.

"Good rising, Clara!"

Her voice drips with false cheer.

I turn to find Caleb Waverly standing behind her, his alpha grin splitting his muzzle as he nuzzles her ear.

A pack of his minions trails in, their cameras glinting.

This is Caleb's private manor—only we hold the moonstone key.

Yet here they are, invading my sanctuary, filming every moment of my distress.

If I'd slept in my usual form, they'd have caught me bare and vulnerable, at their mercy.

"Juliet brought you a lunar greeting, and you can't even bare your throat?"

Caleb's voice is a low growl, filled with barely concealed anger.

"She hired a professional pack photographer for your pre-ritual footage."

He flings a bundle of enchanted mane at me—a fake wig—with a force that sends it skidding across the floor.

"Wear this. Your baldness might spook Juliet."

I curl my lip in disgust, letting the wig fall to the floor.

His friends snicker, their scents sour with amusement.

Caleb's alpha aura flares, but I meet his gaze head-on. "I won't wear it."

Caleb's muzzle twists in fury.

"Clara Ashford, have you no respect for pack tradition?"

Juliet slips under his arm, a sly smile playing on her lips.

"She's just groggy from the lunar shift. I don't mind, Caleb."

She turns to me, faking a pout.

"Won't you model the mating gown for the pack? I picked it specially for you."

"If you want a display, visit the mortal zoo," I snap, my voice filled with venom.

The pack gasps in shock.

They expect me to cower, to submit to their demands, but Juliet's lip quivers, a performance worthy of an award.

"Don't you like my choice? I thought—"

Caleb nuzzles her, his eyes fixed on me with hatred.

"It's an honor she chose for you. Yield the gown."

I toss the lunar mantle at Juliet's feet.

"Take it. It reeks of your musk anyway."

My height towers over hers by two handspans—this gown was tailored for her. "You even stole my fitting, didn't you? The gown was never my size."

"You never told me—"

"Told you?" I laugh, a harsh, bitter sound.

"I did tell you," I snarl.

"While you were hunting across pack territories with Juliet, chasing lunar storms like lovesick pups." The memory of his cold words still stings: "This trivial matter bothers you? Find a seamstress to alter it."

But without his alpha stamp, the manor's tailors dared not touch the gown; everyone knew it was Juliet's favorite, enchanted with her scent.

"So you withheld this to torment Juliet?"

Caleb's snout curls in disgust.

"I never thought you'd be so venomous."

He twists my every growl, convinced I plot against his lover.

But explanations wither on my tongue.

What's the use, when his ears only hear Juliet's lies?

Juliet's whimper splits the manor.

"Clara should cherish the gown… I might never have a mating ritual."

Caleb's arms lock around her, his alpha voice booming at me.

"Since you despise the gown, Juliet will wear it this afternoon. You'll have endless moons as my luna—surrender a few hours."

My moonflight ticket burns in my pocket—nine hours till lift-off.