Chapter 32

Aurora

Jaxson holds me for what feels like forever. I enjoy every moment of it, too. He sways to the side and steps when necessary, making it easier on me as his thick arms show me where to turn and when to stop. I give into his control, feeling this powerful prince be so gentle in this moment.

The music inside comes to a halt and so do we. I subdue a shiver, but he notices anyways, peeling his uniform coat off and sliding it over my shoulders. He smells of cedar, of his perfectly musk scent, and he leads me back inside while waiters pace through the ballroom with trays of food. The entrees are immaculate, set out for everyone in array of beef steaks, exotic fish and herbs, and chicken dipped in creamy sauces. My stomach growls as we sit at the table, Jaxson getting to be next to his father while I sit directly next to Ann.

She takes my hand under the table, gleaming, and I don’t feel the need to speak on the last time we had been together. That night, like the first attempt at my birthday, was a disaster I would like to forget. Instead, we look past it, focusing on the beautiful plates that fill up the table in a matter of seconds.

“A toast,” Alpha Kennedy says, his voice booming through the crowded ballroom. Everyone holds up their drinks, an assortment of wine and champagne. I take the water and raise it up. “The blue moon is our night to feel powerful, to express our true form in its full glory. I want to toast to power, to tonight, and for the future of our kind!”

Everyone roars in applause, toasting, and sipping their alcohol. I would partake but after working out for a few weeks, I’ve learned that wine makes me feel sluggish when I run and right now, endurance is my main focus.

We mill about the food, picking at the assortment, Jaxson keeping his arm over the back of my chair while the many, endless waves of food and dessert are brought to the ballroom. I ate too much, feeling bloated at one point, but Jaxson offers me a bite of dessert, smiling wide. It’s enough to make me feel sick, too full of food, and I excuse myself from the table and make my way to the washroom opposite of the courtyard. By the time I get there, the place I packed with ladies trying to adjust their makeup.

I try to push through the crowd, finally finding a stall int he back that I lock myself inside. My stomach cramps, wanting to puke, but it’s short lived, a light voice peeking through the sounds of chaos.

“He deserves better,” a feminine voice says.

“She’s not even his type,” another groans.

I feel an overwhelming inclination that they are speaking of me.

“He is a prince! Even with the mating pull, how could he accept someone so—”

“So bland,” another cuts in.

Laughter rolls through the washroom.

“I guess it’s true what they say about commoners,” one says, her voice shrill, “they may be weak, but they certainly can handle the rumpus sex capades of a royal. You should have heard them before Xander swooped in to rid us of this trouble. He had his way with her for hours.”

“I’ll be better than that slut,” another girl says simply, confident. “He will never want another commoner again once I get between his knees.”

Laughing ensues and I try to stay upright and awake.

I hold an arm to my stomach, waiting for the commotion to die down. The hard steps of high heels all lead out of the room eventually and I finally feel ready to leave the stall. Their words are too similar to Xander’s, so loud in my mind, that I let the sorrow drown me.

I walk down the hall, unsure where to go at this point, just feeling lost. I find my way to a spot outside in a small orchard behind the palace, a few guards roaming the grounds while gala guests partake in cigars and cocktails under the stars. I sit down on a bench, my pulse too rapid to control, every part of my heart wanting to break.

I bury my head into my hands, holding back tears.

“Tough night?” a thick voice asks.

I look up, seeing an unfamiliar warrior stand next to the bench, holding a small, metal flask in his hands. He notions to the seat beside me and I nod, pulling my dress away so he can have a seat. He leans forward, his dark eyes and dark hair perfectly combed, everything so meticulous about his appearance down to his stray hairs jelled into perfect rows.

“What leaves the Luna out here alone of all nights?” he asks.

I look descant, my heart shriveled so small in my chest, it’s a wonder I’m still alive. “I’m not the Luna,” I say, shaking my head. “Maybe I never will be, either. I don’t belong here.”

He nods, not trying to defend or object to my words. He offers me the metal flask and I take it with shaky hands, unsure what is inside of it. “Don’t worry, just something to help calm your nerves. It’s a little strong for my taste— perfect for these posh events.”

I bring the stem to my lips, my tongue curling at the moment the hot, metallic liquid hits my lips. It manages down my throat, even though my coughing fit, and he takes his flask back with a subtle laugh at my struggle.

“That was disgusting,” I admit, the pungent taste lingering under my tongue and on the backs of my teeth. “What was that?”

“Something to take the edge off,” is all he says. I watch him screw the cap on and placing it against his hip in a holster of sorts. I realize now I took a drink of it, but he hadn’t. He leans back, relaxed. “The blue moon is so powerful,” he says, staring at the sky. I look at him for a long moment, knowing he is familiar to me somehow but also unsure how I’ve met him in the past. “You know what I’ve researched about the blue moon?”

I shake my head, the subtle motion alone making me dizzy.

“I’ve heard that it is the sole reason we are able to shift year around. Like a battery that over-charges, then carries its power through time until it’s empty, only to be refilled in the next cycle. Of course, it’s mostly for royals. Commoners are too weak to feel the power of the moon. That’s why they are never invited. Until this cycle. Must have something to do with your sudden appearance here, claiming to be mated to the prince.”

I open my mouth, nothing but a dry taste in my throat. I cough for air, heaving slightly, the sound as painful as it feels. No one seems to notice, or care, the stranger simply relaxing while the orchard clears from people slowly, leaving us alone here for a long, pained moment of silence. It’s difficult to keep my eyes open now, my vision blurry.

“What—” I gasp, unable to say much else.

“You said it yourself, Aurora Hunter. You don’t belong here. I’m just letting you know,” he adds, adjusting his coat and buttoning the center, standing soon after, “we all agree.”

He leaves and I’m alone out here at once.

My chest is tight, like I may be having a stroke, or my wolf is sick and trying to cling to life, but it’s draining. I no longer find myself able to sit up, hitting the grass on my side, the heavy breathes of my frustration coming out in aggravated heaves to inhale.

I hardly feel any air reach my throat.

For a moment, I think about calling for Jaxson through the link, begging him for help, but I’m so sick of that charade. I will only be saved to be told I don’t deserve him, this lifestyle, and it’s maddening to think I didn’t want this life either.

He took me and made me this joke.

I may be in a nice dress, pounded with makeup to hide the wounds of my body that I am not strong enough to heal, but I am nothing compared to Jaxson. I am nothing compared to this life. My stomach aches, cramping as the air is officially shut from my throat. The metallic taste of the liquid is gone for good, all of my senses dulled.

I wanted to learn to fight, to defend myself, but I cannot defend the fact that I am not a Luna, and I will never live up to that standard. I am a filthy, worthless commoner, too weak to even learn to fight, my mate forced to stall with teaching me to run laps. He doesn’t believe in my capabilities and now, suffering this stupid mistake, I know I’m not up to be Luna.

My body aches, my vision blurry, and it’s a slow process to die.

I always pictured it more violent than this.

It could have been a royal warrior finding me at home, forcing me to be his slave until I’m killed off. Or maybe the rouges at the casino killing me after they robbed the place. Perhaps even Xander and the guards in the library slicing my throat. He had two chances to putting me out of my misery and rip my throat out with his teeth. But tonight, of all nights, I let some stranger with the promise of being kind to me succeed in taking my life.

I just wanted to be accepted. It wasn’t a lot to ask. But like everyone has been saying, I’m worthless, hopeless, and Jaxson will do better than the likes of me.

Closing my eyes for good, I hope he finds better. He deserves better.