The Luna's Escape

~~~~~ TRIGGER WARNING This chapter contains topics of miscarriage, domestic abuse and love bombing ~~~~~ Jasmine The seconds on one simple timer had never passed so slowly; they may as well have been turning backwards out of spite to extend the torturous wait. Instead, I focused on deep breaths, cursing the ocean green tiled walls of the bathroom for reverberating the noise in my ears. I didn’t dare watch the test strip change beneath me. So I fixed my stare on the shell of a stranger reflected in the mirror, leaning my weight on the counter. Her eyes glinted and shimmered, highlighting the unnatural vivid blue hues like mine, but I found myself unable to recognise the identical young woman staring back. I willed the tears to remain in their ducts where they belonged. Because if I didn’t, the floodgates would join the raid on my emotions. The test would be positive. There was little point in hoping it wouldn’t show a double pink line. The only reason it would indicate a negative result was if it was defective or if it was still a little too early. Dominic claimed my scent had changed and that he could sense some small tug, the bond forming with his unborn pup. He was ecstatic as he gave me the ‘surprise’ of a pregnancy test and spun me by the shoulders into our bathroom. I was not ecstatic. There was a time when I would’ve been. Up until a year ago, I would have done anything to bear this werewolf’s pup. I loved him with everything I possessed once, when my naivety reigned with ignorance over what a red flag was. An Alpha who saved me, who told me he loved me every minute of every day, who was devastatingly handsome and mature, who doted on me with care, who was beloved by his pack and well respected, for that man, I would have done anything… and I did. He wore his mask well; I would give Dominic credit for that. It wasn’t love he showered upon me; it was obsession. It was never my safety he was thinking of when I needed permission to go anywhere or have a guard following me, but rather control. His affections came with conditions. When those conditions were tested, the veil would slip to reveal his true nature beneath, just like it did a year prior when his veil not only slipped but was ripped away to the monster lurking. The heavy vibrations of my phone timer droning upon the white granite surface startled my attention, and I snatched it up to silence the harsh noise that set my nerves on edge. He was waiting on the other side of the bathroom door, and I knew he was listening, waiting for confirmation. “Well?” His smooth, commanding voice demanded from the other side of the divide, a voice that used to melt my insides when he whispered sweet nothings in my ear. My heart sank to the deepest recess of my stomach as the bright pink double lines stared me down, silent and innocuous, but they may as well have been screaming. Positive. I knew it would be, yet still the burning sting of tears sprung in my eyes, blurring my vision of the damn result that I wished wasn’t there. To many women, this news would have had them jumping with delight. If they had been trying for a baby for almost four years only to fail each time, this would be their dream. For me, this solidified me further as Dominic’s silent prisoner. Gaia, surround me, I chanted in my head, hoping the spirit of my people hadn’t abandoned me entirely. I forced a small smile across my lips, faking the emotion to shine in my eyes as tears of joy. Over the last few months, I too had grown adept at wearing a veil, but it hung with difficulty today. With a final practised shake in the mirror to rid my genuine sorrows and replace them with phoney happiness, I grabbed the stick and opened the door to be met by Dominic’s expectant yet impatient dark green eyes. I flashed the little white stick for him to see, handing it over so he could inspect the double line for himself. “You were right,” I kept my tone meek and submissive, just as he liked. “I knew it. Do you know how happy you’ve made me?” The white stick fell to the bedroom carpet, and his arms wrapped around my waist as he stooped to nuzzle into my neck. Brief moments like these were enough to make me forget all the bad and turn them into a blur that dwelled in the back of my mind. I snaked my hands around his thick, muscular neck and ran my fingers through his short, rich chocolate-brown curls. Perhaps it would be different this time around. Perhaps he would change and be the man I remembered. Perhaps I didn’t have to dread this pregnancy, and I could be happy to be an expectant mother. Dominic was capable of such tenderness and love; it couldn’t be fake… … And my momentary lapse into a stupid fantasy world that I thought actually existed was shattered with his next words, yanking the unblurred bad back to the forefront. “You just need to speak up this time if you think something’s wrong. I don’t want a repeat of last time.” He brushed his knuckles across the apple of my cheek. “It broke my heart to see you fail.” I flinched involuntarily at his touch, fat tears springing from the graphic memory of ‘last time’. I knew I had failed, and he reminded me of it constantly. This was not the first time I had emerged from our en-suite bathroom with a little white stick displaying little pink lines. A year ago, when I was still living in my delusion as a naive twenty-one-year-old with no other experience of romantic love, I bounced out of the very door behind me and leapt into Dominic’s arms. I believed, with my soul, that nothing could top that happiness or steal it away. How mistaken I was. I assumed that if anything bad was to happen, surely my powers as a foresight wiccan would warn me, even if they had dulled without the influence of my people around me. So when I saw a little spotting of blood in my underwear, I didn’t think it was a cause for concern as there was no pain accompanying it. My mother was a healer wiccan and the midwife to our Family – our people’s version of a pack. In my later teenage years, I had helped her with her duties, so I ‘knew’ what to expect in the early stages of pregnancy. … But then a twisting cramp took hold of my abdomen, similar to how I imagined a labour contraction spasm through a womb. Dominic appeared in our bathroom, heaving for breath, having abandoned his warriors’ training because he felt the tug with his pup fading. A rushed trip to the pack clinic confirmed it. I had miscarried, and our baby was gone after only two months. I was devastated, a black hole gaping wide in my chest that sucked all joy from my world. I wept, and he held me, carrying me back to our private home in silence. He sat me on our bed, and I remembered the odd air of anger following him once we were alone. I tried to stand and console him, but he shook me off. I found myself thrown under a blanket of guilt that I had done something wrong, and I began rambling on about what I should have done differently. And that was when the real Dominic was laid bare to me. His open palm collided with my face and sent me sprawling across the bed, staring up at him in dumb shock. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I didn’t run. I don’t even recall if I inhaled a breath. All I remembered was the burning fire across my face and Dominic’s beautiful forest green eyes that would never hurt me, twisted in raging anger. His fist wasn’t the only thing to hit me. A vision of his past tagged along for the ride too, one that dispelled his carefully constructed image of the ‘noble Alpha’. His first mate never died in the accident he claimed. I was never ‘rescued’ from black market rogue werewolves. I was taken and sold, and Dominic killed his own mate to have me. He was a liar, a hypocrite and a monster. In those seconds I stared up at him, I had never felt such a fool in my life. How easily I had fallen for him… How easily I had believed he was my saviour… all because of a pair of green eyes – another vision that had plagued me for the last half decade. I hated myself and my gifts after that, as well as the unending mind games they played; no wonder foresight wiccans held the reputation for losing their sanity in later life. I never spoke of the vision, and I never told a soul what I had seen. Who would have believed me? Dominic was the beloved Alpha of Tundra River pack, who brought it out of its self-imposed archaic isolation in Alaska and ended the abhorrent practices, such as the killing of mates should a stronger one present themselves – fated or not. I was the outsider, the non-wolf who arrived as a barely-turned eighteen-year-old and knew nothing of pack life. It was a world away from my Canadian home, my little commune that was all I knew. I may have been this pack’s Luna, but it would never turn its back on the Alpha it adored. I was alone. And worst of all, I allowed myself to become isolated without realising it until that moment when I lay sprawled and stunned, holding my cheek, trying to process the deluge that had been dumped on me in a matter of seconds. A year later and I was still struggling to reconcile with that afternoon. “Jasmine…” Dominic’s lust-laden voice yanked me out of the spiral he had sent me down. “My perfect angel, do you know how much I love you? There isn’t a wolf alive who could love you as much as I do.” He feathered kisses along my throat, focusing on the spot between my neck and shoulder where a werewolf would mark their mate. Even before he showed his true colours, I hated him touching or kissing that part of me. Not that it ever stopped him. He silenced my protests by saying I would grow to love it, which I mistook for reassurance rather than the domineering control it was. In a morbid sense of gratitude, I was thankful Dominic had never marked me as his mate, which would have sealed me to him until one of us died. I knew what he wanted from me; it was what he wanted every night, every morning, every midday, every afternoon. His appetite for my flesh seemed boundless, and I used to tell myself I loved it. There was a time I would’ve melted and gone weak at the knees for the look of hunger he gave me. I told myself I liked the roughness of his touch and his savagery when he made love to me, even when it bordered on excruciating at times. He was an Alpha. It was his nature and his animalistic side. He couldn’t help it. Grabbing my hair to yank my head back during s*x, slapping me hard on my backside until I was raw and in tears, ripping my underwear off because he was so eager for me, even though it left friction burns and lesions behind, it was okay because he was showing me how much he loved me. The next time he promised he would control himself. How could he hurt me? He loved me. He loved only me. He doted on me and told me how much he loved me whenever we were together… so it was ok. He hit me… but that was because I had lost our child. As a wolf, he felt his bond with it perish and was inconsolable. But after the vision that hit with his open palm of what had happened to his previous mate, everything felt decidedly not ok. I had deluded myself with excuses because ‘he saved me’ and ‘I owed him my freedom’. Each was a lie, and they had become a prison I had walked myself into. Dominic’s rough hands pawed at my hips, squeezing tight enough against my skin to leave an imprint, and just as they crept under the hem of my knitted dress, I drew away, pushing against his solid chest. I was tired of pretending this was ‘ok’. “Sorry… I-I’m just worried about our baby” – I spread my fingers across my stomach – “I’m scared I’ll lose it again…” Tears I was sick of shedding rolled once again because my reality sank deep into my bones. I didn’t want to go through that a second time. I wanted my baby, but I wanted them far away from their father’s reach. He splayed his huge hand over mine, standing a full head above me. At 6'0", I was no small-statured woman, but I could hardly compare to Dominic’s 6'9" frame. “Don’t worry.” He kissed my temple, nuzzling into my cheek. “We’ll head to your doctor and have you checked out. I won’t let anything happen to you or our pup.” Why couldn’t he just be this man? Be the man who was tender, and kind, and gentle and loving. I wanted so desperately to believe that this was the true Dominic. But he had shown his true face, and this would never be it. ~~~~~ This book is part of a series, but can be read as a standalone story. If you would like to check out the other titles, have a look at the list below: Book 1 - The Rogue Alpha’s Return Book 2 - The Wanted Alpha Book 3 - His Mute Luna Book 4 - Accepting My Twin Mates Book 5 - The Luna’s Escape Side Story - The Alpha’s Fight (MxM, free) Side Story - The Last Lycan (free) Side Story - The Rogue Anthology (free)