A Luna's Power

Chapter 1: Not Getting Better

Note: This series is a darker werewolf series not following the usual "plot" of fated mates.

Be aware of darker elements such a described violence and death.

-Lara-

“Happy birthday… to me,” I whispered as I watched the numbers on the clock change.

I set my phone down and turned my eyes back to the fire. It was exactly one minute past midnight—the moment I was born nineteen years ago.

Ding.

A notification lit up my phone. I glanced at it to find a message from my sister. I was surprised she was still awake, especially since she was a mother now.

Happy birthday, little sis!

I know you’re not big on celebrating or attending parties, so how about we have dinner at the castle this Friday?

I stared at the message, letting the words sink in. I didn’t want to attend a dinner. I had no interest in celebrating at all. It was just another day. What was there to celebrate, anyway? But if I accepted the dinner invitation at the castle, that meant I could talk to the king without having to wait weeks!

The king had started holding open audiences, allowing anyone to come forward with their concerns. But this dinner was my chance to go directly to him.

I smiled as I held the phone in both hands.

I’m in.

That’s all I wrote before grabbing my leather jacket and extinguishing the fire. I stepped out of the small cottage. Was it strange that I hated being at home, even though I was the pack’s luna? Probably. But whenever I wasn’t needed, especially at night, I came here. This was my escape—my secret place. No one knew about it. Not even Selene.

I walked into the quiet night and headed toward my bike. Swinging my leg over, I started it up, the powerful engine roaring through the stillness of the forest surrounding the cottage. Without hesitation, I sped off into the darkness. There was much to prepare before my meeting with the king.

-James-

I stood on the balcony connected to my room, taking a slow drag from my cigarette. I knew it was a bad habit, but in these moments—just these small, fleeting moments—watching the sun rise, I felt calm. For a brief time, it felt like I wasn’t drowning in my own misery and thoughts. I felt… better. But the peace never lasted. Once the cigarette was gone and the sun fully risen, the weight returned.

I sighed deeply, resting my hands on the railing. It felt like a wave crashing against me, pulling me under, suffocating me with its force. I could barely breathe, could barely keep my head above water. I didn’t know what to do.

But still, I showered, dressed, armed myself, and put on my mask, pushing the pain further down, hiding it away. I headed for the door, but before I could open it, I heard the familiar sound of scratching.

I sighed, opening the door to find the orange furball that had grown fond of me ever since Evan moved away.

“I’m not your new boytoy,” I muttered as she rubbed against my leg, purring loudly. “I mean it! Go bother someone else.”

She ignored me, weaving between my legs, her purring growing even louder. I sighed deeply, leaning my head back in defeat.

“Why me?” I whispered.

I walked into the hallway, with the cat trailing behind me. Suddenly, a loud barking echoed through the house. Little Diva hissed at the sight of Koda barreling toward us, then darted off in a hurry. Koda, oblivious, leapt at me, trying to lick my face.

“You’re my new best friend now,” I told him, laughing as he scared off the cat.

“Hurtful,” a voice said from down the hall.

I looked up to see Damian, a small smile on his face. He gave me a quick nod, signaling for me to follow. The king was probably about to start his day, and Damian and I were usually the first ones in his office. I caught up to him, and together we climbed the stairs leading to the king’s floor.

“So how are you feeling?” Damian asked.

“Fine,” I replied, puzzled by the question.

“Don’t lie to me,” Damian said, grabbing my arm.

I stopped, startled, and stared at him in confusion. What the hell?

“Let go!” I demanded, yanking my arm back, but he wasn’t finished.

“You’re not fine,” he said, his voice low and serious.

“Oh yeah?”

“You think just because you live one floor below me, I don’t hear your screams? Your calls for her? Or see you wandering the halls at night?”

I looked away, knowing he had me.

“Look, we’ve already had to deal with Evan’s darkness. We can’t have you spiraling too,” Damian said.

“I’m not,” I snapped, glaring at him.

“But you are, James. We all see it. When was the last time you actually slept?”

“And tell me, when you lost Amelia, how much did you sleep?” I shot back, anger rising. “Because if I remember right, you were the one wandering the hallways at night!”

I knew I was being a jerk, throwing his dead mate in his face. But I needed him to back off.

“James, you need help,” Damian said softly, clearly ignoring my attempt to push him away.

“I’m fine!” I barked, though we both knew it was a lie.

“I thought we agreed you were going to do better than me,” he said quietly.

“Yeah?”

“This isn’t doing better! You’re doing the exact same thing,” Damian said, frustration creeping into his voice.

“And what do you want me to do? Huh? Just stop having nightmares? Stop thinking about her? I can’t!” I snapped, my voice rising. “I loved her with all my heart, with my very soul. How do you expect me to move on from that?”

Damian watched me for a moment, his expression shifting as if he was about to respond, when a third voice suddenly cut through the tension.

“Are we interrupting something?” I turned to see Garrett and Chris standing on the stairs. Groaning in frustration, I turned away for a second, trying to collect myself. I let out a deep sigh, forcing some of the anger to fade before responding.

“No, you’re not interrupting,” I muttered.

I glanced at Damian, who had crossed his arms and shook his head at me. I didn’t care if he was disappointed or even angry. I wasn’t about to let him dictate how I handled my pain.

I turned and started walking, and the others followed, though the air between us was thick with tension. We made our way to the king’s office and knocked. His voice called out for us to enter, and we filed in, scattering around the room to prepare for the first meeting of the day.

“What’s going on here?” the king asked, his yellow eyes scanning each of us.

I knew he could sense something was off, and he didn’t like it.

“Nothing,” I said quickly.

The others exchanged glances, but I shot them a warning look. I was sure Chris and Garrett had overheard our conversation, but I didn’t want them bringing it up. They seemed to understand, turning their attention back to the king. His gaze lingered on me, and I could tell he was piecing things together, but he wisely chose not to press the issue. Instead, he moved on and began the meeting.