A Luna's Revenge

back home

It’s been six years since we left this small town of ours. I can still remember Noah’s fierce determination when he ordered me to pack my bags. He received a tip that whoever took my mother was out in Alabama, and we’d been living like rogues searching for clues ever since. Unfortunately all the leads we had all lead to dead ends and we were no closer to fining my mother than we were after my escape eleven years ago.

Apart from the thick layer of dust covering everything in his tiny apartment above the store he owned, nothing had changed. The store was looked after and run by Rosetta, a dear friend of Noah’s, if only he weren’t as dim when it came to his experience with the fairer s*x he would notice that she was secretly holding a torch for him. The old man was a military man, not a family man or a romantic, he was blind when it came to matters of the heart... and I wasn’t any better.

I am almost nineteen years of age and I am no closer to finding my mate than he was to buying Rosetta dinner. I washed my dusty bedding, wiped the surfaces and swept the room into another cloud of dust. I presumed that this process will need to be repeated a few times before ridding us of all the dust bunnies hiding out everywhere.

“Nix, I’m going down to see what’s going on in the store. Meet me downstairs,” the old man shouted from our small kitchen that desperately needed to be stocked. In many ways Noah was like a father to me, he was my protector, my teacher and my role model. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t lack the guidance of a mother figure in my life though. I never fit in with the girls my age in any town we stayed, I don’t do dresses and my hair skills as limited to ponytails and basic plaits, but those were for practical reasons, you can’t have hair in your face, hindering your vision when trying to hit a target with your crossbow now can you? None of the girls were into Mixed Martial Arts unless they could watch some guys with sweaty bodies beat up on each other, and then they weren’t staring in an attempt to learn from them, they were staring with the hope that they could get screwed. More like screwed over, I thought to myself. Relationships are pointless and a waste of time, unless you had some sort of obligation to reproduce, which I do not, I am half human after all... I would be reproducing second grade pups for some poor delusional man, only to later be resented by him for doing just that. No, I did not want a mate.

“Be right down,” I shouted back as I zipped up my brown suede combat boots that covered my black jeans mid-calf. The closest I’d ever been to love would probably be what I felt for my boots. They were the singular thing in my possession that I couldn’t go without. Could one love something they tread on all day every day?

I busied myself with packing shelves for the rest of the morning, wearing the green apron Rosetta had handed to me with a smile. I swear she enjoyed seeing me in anguish, to think I was rooting for her where Noah is concerned, think again sister, I snorted at the thought.

“Excuse me, could you point me to the basil pesto?” a familiar voice asked to my back. Turning around I looked straight into her perfect complexion with flawlessly curled golden locks and plump pink lips.

“Oh, it’s... you,” she said looking me up and down with disgust written so clearly on her face she might as well have written it with a permanent marker.

“It’s nice to see you too Annabella,” I said with an arched brow. Jip, six years and nothing had changed.

“What are you doing here?” she spat.

“I work here, or so you would have noticed if you had half a brain cell to process my green apron,” I said tugging at the strap around my neck, “Pesto is next to the readymade meals, isle seven,” I finished, turning back to what I was doing before she’s asked my help.

“Oops,” she said as a bottle of pasta sauce fell to the floor, splattering its red contents over the white tiled floor like the aftermath of a crime scene... which it would have soon become if she did not remove herself from my sight. “You better start cleaning that up before someone slips and falls in the mess,” she said smiling wickedly.

“Out!” I commanded before I ended up hurting the fragile beauty before me, I wouldn’t be held liable if she happened to walk out with a black eye.

“You can’t throw me out!” she snapped, shocked at my refusal to submit as I had before, when we were still school kids.

“If you happened to read the sign above the door you would notice the red font ‘Right of Admission Reserved’ now get out before I report you as a vandal,” I said as calmly as I could, clenching my fists as I restrain myself from unleashing years of pent up resentment on her. She left the store as I heard the bell chime above the door while I cleaned up the mess before me.

“Get a grip on yourself Phoenix, this is not the time or the place for picking fights,” Noah said as he towered over me.

“Yes Sir,” I mumbled, not really agreeing with him but also not feeling like getting into an argument over the blond bimbo that wasn’t worth the energy I’d expend on stating my case.

Later that night, after cooking up our favorite spaghetti and meatballs, I heard the door bell ring. The old man waved me off, instructing me to go see who it was as he relaxed with his bare feet up on the coffee table while the evening news cast its light on him in the dark living room. Ugh... I moaned, flinging the wash cloth over my shoulder as I headed down the narrow wooden steps that lead me down into the dark grocery store downstairs. A tall dark and handsome figure waited impatiently on the other side of the glass door, leaning confidently with his one hand against the door frame. I roll my eyes in annoyance... I was to be addressed by the leader of the brat pack, and I was to take it gracefully... grace being something I lacked outside of physical training.

The bell chimed as I yanked the door open, fully intent on chasing away the unwanted visitor on my steps, when an unexpected scent hit me like a ton of bricks, causing me to stagger backwards. If I wasn’t holding onto the door handle I might have fallen flat on my ass in front of Damian, our new Alpha. The expression on his chiseled face turned from one of loathing to a wide eyed look of shock. Had he experienced the same thing I did?

“Phoenix...” he says swallowing loudly, his adam’s apple bobbing as he did so “I...” he hesitated, staring at me with his icy blue eyes as if searching for answers as the air between us crackled with electricity, like the hair raising feeling I’d experienced before lightning strikes. “Stay away from my girlfriend,” he ordered abruptly as he turned on his heel, his hands forcefully pushing back his inky black hair, and stalked off into the night, leaving me standing speechless in the doorway.