A Christmas Luna and Her Big Bad Wolf

Serayah Morgan. "It was on this very night that fate bound me to the Christmas Beast. A bond forged not in love, but in peril. With everything to lose, I had no choice but to gamble my life in his twisted game of a hundred wishes—a risky game where if I fail to grant even one wish, he would become winters wrath to me.” The ex-Royal Luna, Quinn, was my best friend. And she died on the seventh of November. After college, we took different turns—Quinn was destined to become the next modern Royal Luna, while I set my sights on a degree in phytotherapy. But I remember the day she found out her mate was the Royal Alpha Roar. Back then, he was simply a Royal Prince, chosen from among his brothers to oversee werewolf royalty, what we call the Moon Grave Royals. The Moon Grave started as an indigenous tribe thousands of years ago. We learned all about it in school—how our tribe brought forth the first breeds of Frostfang which is an ancient bloodline of werewolves born with frost in their veins. The Frostfangs led the cadres of other wolves but as centuries passed, the DNA faded from one generation to the other. However, twenty-nine years ago, a true Frostfang was born to the Moon Grave royals and it was a male, none other than Royal Alpha Roar. Though, around this time of year, they like to call him the Christmas Beast. It’s one thing to be mated to a Frostfang wolf. But it’s another thing entirely when that Frostfang is Alpha Roar—they say he is a wolf woven from the winter's heart. One whose claws are shards of frozen steel, each one searingly cold to the touch, able to slice through metal and through heat. From the day he was born, his name and identity were sacred— no one ever spoke about it casually. So, you can imagine my fear when Quinn told me he was her mate. Sure, it’s every girl’s dream to be fated to a Moon grave Royal—a conglomerate entity that control all werewolf packs, government, unions groups and communities of the country but I still wanted to talk her out of it. Regardless, she wanted to be Royal Luna and now, here I am, at the ceremony for the anniversary of her death. It’s been a year since she died but I wish I could say I’m here to remember the moments we shared. “Just look at that! The Royal Alpha didn’t even show up for his ex’s Luna death anniversary!” “Of course, he wouldn’t! Haven’t you heard? He hasn’t been showing up for any events. He keeps sending his brother. One of the castle keepers told me he doesn’t even leave his room anymore.” Two men gossip nearby. “I wonder how the Royal prince is doing. One year without his mother and a father who doesn’t seem to care about the poor child.” One woman mutters. Yes, Quinn had a baby boy for the Royal Alpha. I almost forgot that. The anniversary ceremony has ended yet there’s no sign of him. I glance left toward the seated guests and it’s my mother’s anxious face I catch in the crowd. She is worried because the Royal Alpha has thrown my father into prison, blaming him for Quinn’s attack and accusing him of failing to protect her. My father was head of frost security distribution and after an entire year of endless investigations with the police, they’ve decided to hold him responsible. How could they blame my father for not holding the line when the whole country was in chaos? Rogues rampaged through the states, people fled for their lives—how can one person be expected to control all that? It’s the reason I’m here, waiting to catch even a glimpse of the Royal Alpha so I can maybe, talk to him. The year is getting closer to the months of festivity and one would think the Moon Grave castle would be the first to set out the Christmas trees, the lights, the sound, the spirit of Christmas. But no, it is just dark. I know Quinn loved the holidays. Even now, I can spot the mistletoe she crafted herself for her first Christmas as Royal Luna. With little else to do, I head toward it. I weave through the crowd of guests to see it clearly. The mistletoe is obviously forgotten. There is a dusty bench under it and I take the first steps up to the small landing. As soon as I stand under the mistletoe, a small spark of electric light comes to life. One light buzzes after the other—they spur by the second and finally, hundreds of tiny light have cast a golden light onto my figure. I stare in shock and the guests who have come to pay respect to Quinn’s anniversary are all looking at me. What am I doing? I scramble to leave, but a figure appears on the meadow stairs. A male. Not just any male. But a male whose form can only be described as titanic, brutally pragmatic, revolting, screamingly a wolf who would force obedience if it is not rendered. I move back. His military like stature takes space under the mistletoe. I have to tilt my head all the way back, just to see the full height of him. He's tall as a basketball hoop and built like three football players stacked on top of each other. He is wearing a black form-fitted shirt, a moisture wicked fabric that looks like a second skin. Its sleeves are short, emphasizing his arms that looks like the full size of a tree trunk. My eyes stay on his torso where lithe muscles are taut. I cannot see his face for his body has consumed the mistletoe light. But immediately, I hear gasps from amongst the guests! I use common sense and turn to leave but there is a sudden pull, a tether that can only be my wolf, Sera. I gasp, clutching my chest as the pull hits me—hard, almost violent. The male’s hand goes to his chest too, like he’s feeling the same thing I am. And then, as if our wolves are controlling us, my mouth opens, his mouth opens, and we both say it at the exact same time. “Mate.” My legs give out and I drop to the ground. What I feel is a mate bond! Curds of snow and ice settle in the air—the temperature drops. I look at him and unfortunately, I meet his eyes that are nothing but shards of silver, like the frosts of Antarctica. Then, I know. He is the reason for the drop in the temperature. ***** “Her?” “The Royal Alpha called her mate?” Another person points at me. “How can she be his second chance mate? She is the daughter of the frost security distribution! The one who is serving time in prison. The Royal Alpha will never accept!” I try to ignore those voices. I still have no idea what's going on. In my twenty-four years, I've never felt a single chasm from my wolf regarding a mate. Sera is usually quiet, only speaking when she chooses. But now, more than ever, I need her answer. How can Royal Alpha Roar be my mate? He was my best friend’s mate! “Are you even listening to me!” My mother raises her voice. “Serayah, this is good. This is our chance to get father out.” Zade, my brother whispers at my side. His words get me and I rise on my feet in the midst of the Frostfang tribunals—they are the ones who enforce the laws and traditions of Moon Grave. They’ve gathered me here to decide if the witnesses' claims about the Royal Alpha calling me mate is true. Everyone has an opinion; everyone is talking but I haven’t even been given a chance to speak. “There seems to be some mistake—” I say, hoping they would hear me. “No. This is not a mistake! It’s the Moon Goddess sending us help when we need it most. You’re going to be a Royal Luna!" My mom pulses in bewilderment, looking at me as if I am the moon goddess on earth. “Mom! He is Quinn’s mate! She was my friend—” "And she’s gone. Under the soil! She’s not here to save your father from the indictment he’s facing with the police! Do you realize your father could spend the rest of his life in prison? Do you think this is the time to mourn the dead? Are we supposed to spend Christmas knowing we’ll never see your father again?" Tears, along with dark circles taint my mother’s eyes as she begs me. “When the Alpha comes here, you must accept it!” Zade adds with urgency. The door opens and just like that, winter’s nightmare comes in. Instantly, I am looking at orbs of silver frost that silences the voices of the entire tribunal. At once, everyone begins to leave the space until we are the only two standing. I am afraid but I know my motive for coming here—it’s to help my father. So, I look up and goddess, he looks like he was carved by a banter of proud Greek gods. He has golden skin, like the brightest dust of the earth. His face is wicked. His mouth is wicked. And the way he looks at me, appraising my body like he is here to make me feel like an unworthy thing. Utterly wicked. I drop my eyes to the ground. “Your father is Milton Morgan?” is the first question he asks. I jump in fear for the contours of his voice sounds like a serrated blade. The cadence of his voice is a call to obedience. His adam’s apple rises and it is a distinct shift beneath the skin of his strong, corded neck. “Yes. My father—” “Your father will never see the sun or stars again. No attorney in this country will touch his case. You might as well enjoy the holidays with the idea that he’s as good as gone. I will make sure of it.” “You can’t—” “Tell me what I can’t do again and that’ll be the biggest mistake of your life.” His threat is so raw, I feel every reason they call him the begotten beast. “Please.” I beg, my knee gives way as I fall before him. “I’ll do anything—anything you ask. Just…don’t do this to my father.” I swipe across my cheeks. He is the Royal Alpha—he doesn’t just hold power; he is power, the kind that can shatter lives with a single decree. I didn’t come here to fight him. I came here to plead, to beg, to lay my pride at his feet if it means saving my father. “Anything. Everything.” He repeats those aspects of my words. “You will wish you never offered yourself to me like that.” There is perfect wrath in his sentence. I, myself, wonder what he means by that but still, I leave my eyes on the floor. “But you know what, I have been pondering the best way to hurt that old man for what Quinn went through. And now, I have his own daughter. The Moon Goddess has given me a tool for revenge as a Christmas gift.” The Royal Alpha lowers himself to my level and seizes my face roughly. His fingers press into my cheeks. I squeal. “Burn this into your mind, mate. I will be the worst memory you’ll carry for the rest of your life. I promise to drain every ounce of joy from your soul, everything that makes you feel light and everything that brings warmth into your life. I will be the wrath of winter. I’ll use you to punish your father.” “Just like the far spread rumour, I am the Christmas beast. But know this: even after Christmas, I will remain a beast that haunts you. You want to save your father? Then you’ll grant me one hundred wishes. Every last one, without fail. Play this game with me and I’ll let him walk free. But refuse me, or falter even once…" He pauses. "Then it’s your father who will pay the price. Like I said, "It was on this very night that fate bound me to the Christmas Beast. A bond forged not in love, but in peril. With everything to lose, I have no choice but to gamble my life in his twisted game of a hundred wishes—a risky game where if I fail to grant even one wish, he will become winters wrath to me.”