The Feral Alpha’s Rejected Luna

Diana

Coming back to the Pack House a few hours later, I jog up the wide marble stairs leading to the large oak door with stained glass panels serving as the front door. I grab the handle but don’t get to open it before a force swings the it inwards.

I quickly step back, moving aside to let whomever it is pass. However, after seeing who it is, my body involuntarily stills. My eyes clash with honey brown eyes that extremely similar to mine. It takes only a second for the surprise wear off and I expressionlessly stare back at him.

I watch as his eyes take in the darkened bruises on my face. An emotion akin to concern flickers through them but takes less than a second to disappear.

After staring for a moment, his lips tighten but in the end, doesn’t say anything. He looks away, jams his hands in his pockets, and stalks off; his booted feet thumping on the staircase on his descent.

I let out a humourless laugh, a sardonic smile spreading across my face. Typical.

Refusing to let myself dwell on it, I wipe my face of all expression before stepping into the house…only to come stock still once more. My heart shudders violently before issuing a loud thump; my pulse starts racing, and my eyes widen in horror.

Standing on the opposite side of the living room and leaning leisurely against the wall with his arms folded across his chest is a man with a smirk on his face, his white teeth glistening.

“What a touching scene that was”, he says, voice laden with amusement. “Really, it’s always a delight watching you two. The proud Gamma with his twin sister the…err…what are you again?” he asks with exaggerated confusion on his face, “Right! You’re Wolfless…” and I find myself flinching; the word a sharp jab to me, “Well whatever”, he adds dismissively his eyes running down the length of my form.

My hands clutch tightly together in front of me, my body, already beginning to quiver. I have this overwhelming urge to cover myself from head to foot to escape his gaze.

I want to just turn on my heels and run out; to get as far away from here as I can. Away from him. I even take an involuntary step back but self-preservation stops me at the last moment- reason reminding me that the consequences for that would be even more dire…

I really don’t want to speak to this man, and I don’t want to be anywhere near him even more. But yet again, years of experience remind me that if I refused to acknowledge my superior, especially after he had directly called out to me, it would be regarded as insubordination. And that would only lead to more trouble.

And so, with extreme reluctance, I force myself to greet him. Praying that my voice doesn’t betray my terror, yet unsurprisingly unable to completely hide the tremor in my voice.

“Good evening Beta Mason”, I call out, head bowed.

He hums distractedly, his eyes lowering and stopping on my chest and I have to once again will my body not to bolt out of there as feel his gaze on me- lewd, invasive…disgusting.

My stomach turns with the realization that I would have no choice but to pass by him to get to the kitchen and from the glint of sick pleasure I catch in his eyes, I can tell that so does he.

Resisting the urge to dash the rest of the way to the kitchen, my steps are hesitant as I walk. Each step that brings me closer to him feels more horrible than the last. I lower my gaze when I can no longer take the sight of the slimy gaze that is locked shamelessly on me, leering perversely at my body.

There is still a good three-meter gap between us as I pass by him but even that is too uncomfortably close for me.

Mason can see just how terrified I am of him and as always, he thrives in it. It gives him a sick and perverted sense of pleasure for me to quake in his presence. I catch his twisted grin out the side of my eye and I know the man is reveling in my fear; my terror some form of nourishment to his evil and warped nature.

When I am just a few inches away from him, he moves a bit and the movement makes me- who is hypersensitive to his presence, flinch. Of course, he notices, and from the dark chuckle he releases under his breath, I understand that he had done so intentionally. My strides lengthen subconsciously as I hasten my pace, anxious to get to the safe confines of the kitchen sooner and be out of his line of sight.

I feel his eyes train on my ass as I pass by and even despite my fear, I have to stop myself from turning around and snapping at him. It is only when I am finally in the kitchen and he can no longer see me that I am able to release the breath I had been holding. My body sags against the wall, and it is only then, that I realize that my hands are damp with sweat.

Though I can’t see him anymore, I can hear him humming softly outside. His voice is actually pleasant; a sharp contrast to the true monster that he truly is on the inside.

I find myself paralyzed against the wall even after I have escaped his sight. His presence is stifling and oppressive- my entire body’s reaction to him one of complete terror and revulsion.

He could follow me into the kitchen if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. He stays outside instead; letting his proximity and his voice petrify me instead. And like a malevolent spirit, he feeds off of my fear.

“Aren’t you going to start making dinner yet little Diana? It’s getting awfully late”, he drawls out in a sing-songy voice.

Having him suddenly address me directly scares me even more and I jump. My heartbeat accelerates and my palms get more sweaty.

“If you don’t start soon, dinner is going to be late. And if it’s late, then I just might have to punish you. I really am quite hungry you see”, he continues lightheartedly, his voice streaming in through the kitchen doorway.

I blanch, my face paling at the way he had said the word ‘hungry’. It didn’t sound like he was talking about food at all, and I nearly throw up.

My heart literally stops beating for a second before it resumes again with a loud thud, threatening to jump out of my chest. And with his heightened senses which are currently trained on me, I know he hears it loud and clear.

I hear him laugh. His voice has a deceptively pleasant bass which does nothing but send a tremor of disgust up my spine. The sound sends me into a panic and I scramble towards the pantry, blindly reaching for ingredients; every instinct telling me to get out of there as quickly as I can.

With haste, I quickly whip up something. It is only the years of practice that makes the food to still taste good. And the entire time I cook, I hear him outside, humming that same tune softly under his breath.

It takes less than half an hour for me to dish the food into ceramics before hastily cleaning up the kitchen

Done, I stand and stare apprehensively out the archway leading out of the kitchen. The light streaming from the living room casts the shadow of the man standing outside onto the kitchen floor.

From his shadow, I watch as he leisurely swings one leg up and down. Up and down. Still, that same unnerving humming continues.

I bite my bottom lip hard and clench my fists tight. I want to escape back to my house but I really, really, really, don’t want to have to pass by him again… but there is just no way around it.

Taking a deep breath, I force myself to take even steps out, determined not to let him see how spooked I really am. I can’t do anything about my thundering heart beat, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing the actual fear on my face.

The moment I step out, his eyes feeling akin to that of a venomous snake- intrusive and vile, pin me down and watch me greedily.