MORANA
Dad's eyes rake over me in that way that always makes me shrink. His lip curls, like I'm already a disappointment before I've even taken a step out the door.
"You will behave yourself tonight," Dad says. His voice is level but every syllable is soaked in warning.
Or for starters, you could have said 'Happy Birthday'. The words don't make it out of my mouth because I doubt my father will appreciate my stunning sense of humour.
Not getting a response from me, he steps closer. The corner of his eyes are crimson as he scowls at me. All the air is knocked out of my lungs when he grabs my neck in a death grip and speaks, "Remember what I have taught you all these years. Stay close to the Alpha, but not too close. Do not give him access to you. Before the ceremony, do not entertain anyone, especially the Alpha."
By the time he releases my neck, I slump back against the wall, breathing heavily.
"Smile when needed and bow your head when spoken to. You're nothing tonight unless the Moon Goddess says otherwise." His voice darkens. "If you aren't his mate and the one chosen to be the Luna, your life will not be worth the dirt on the floor. Remember that."
And just like that, he turns and walks out, leaving the door wide open behind him like the gaping mouth of a threat.
Anxiety coils in my hearts as I stand rooted to my spot, a series of what-ifs swarming my mind like poisonous vipers.
...
The Ancestral Hall is brighter than I remember.
Golden chandeliers hang from the high ceilings, casting a warm glow over the crowd gathered below. Robes shimmer and laughter hums in the air vibrant young pairs occupy the hall.
The Moon Altar stands untouched at the center, waiting for fate to decide who belongs to whom.
Dad is surrounded by members of other packs as soon as he enters. I step inside with Julia beside me, but my eyes scan the room the moment I cross the threshold.
Where is he?
My heart picks up speed as I move further in, my gaze sliding over faces, robes, familiar symbols stitched in silver and black.
Dad has never allowed me to step outside the pack territory so I have never attended the Moonrise Gala held in the other packs before. Hence, the sight of this many pack heirs in one place surprises me.
But it doesn't hold my attention for long as disappointment curls in my stomach. Zacreus isn't here yet.
I take another slow step, trying not to look too eager, when suddenly—
I feel it.
Not one. Not two.
I feel the weight of multiple gazes on me. They settle on me all at once, sharp and heavy, like invisible hands pressing down on my back and shoulders.
But one of them is the strongest. It's so evident that it makes me a little breathless.
I don't dare turn right away. My fingers brush against the fabric of my gown as if that will steady me, as if it will somehow shake off the feeling of being watched like prey but it doesn't.
Holding my breath, I pivot. My gaze sweeps the hall once more and that's when I see it.
In the farthest shadowed corner of the Ancestral Hall, beyond the last row of ceremonial banners and silver-torched sconces, there's… something. No, someone.
At first, I think it's a trick of the light. But then the torch nearby flickers again, and I see the faint outline.
Wheels.
A glint of silver against obsidian wood.
A wheelchair?
My breath catches. It's just a glimpse. But the figure there seems unmoving, cloaked in shadow. And a pair of golden eyes seem to be watching me.
The crowd shifts again, blocking my view. I barely blink once but when I tilt my head again, that distant corner is empty as if nobody was ever there.
Before I can make sense of what I saw, a hush spreads like a ripple across the hall. The main door opens.
Every head bows as Zacreus enters, but mine lifts slightly. Having not seen him for two days, I find myself reluctant to take my eyes off him.
He walks with the weight of a storm behind him, the long black folds of his ceremonial cloak sweeping over the polished marble. His presence slices through the air like the blade of a crescent moon.
When his dark eyes meet mine, I stop breathing altogether. My heart nearly trips out of my chest. I want to run to him and the way he looks at me tells me that he will hold me if I do.
Our eyes hold just long enough to make the world narrow to nothing but that look. Before I can move, the priest raises both hands.
"The rituals shall begin," he announces, his voice deep and old, echoing into the silence.
Everyone turns toward the altar. The Elders rise, forming a circle.