TWO

LYRA

My breath catches in my throat when I’m met with a pair of cold, dead-blue eyes. They’re piercing and like shards of ice boring into my soul. Standing at the entrance is a man I’ve never seen before. His imposing frame blocks the doorway. There is a deep frown etched between his brows, the kind that could silence a room without a single word.

“Goddess!” Mrs. Carol screeches from beside him.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t cleaned this room yet, Lyra?” Mrs. Carol is fuming at me. But before she can go any further, the man intervenes.

“I’ll handle it from here,” he tells Carol. “You can leave.” His voice feels like a dozen echoes bouncing in my chest.

Mrs. Carol’s mouth opens as if she wants to argue, but one look at him, and she shuts it again. With a final glare in my direction, she scurries away, leaving me alone with the intimidating stranger.

I quickly lower my eyes to the floor out of fear. I am too tense to think straight. I have not seen this man in Shadowmoon before, so I guess he is one of Alpha Lucian’s important guests. But his identity isn’t my problem right now, staying alive is.

This man looks powerful enough, and if he punishes me for not preparing his room on time, no one in this pack will care. Werewolves have more pressing matters to attend to than the suffering of a lowly human like me. There is no time to care for a being that isn’t even their species. For the twelve years since I have been brought to this pack, I have never made a friend. No one has ever been nice to me. Werewolf cruelty has become a part of my life now.

I dip my head respectfully. “For… forgive me,” I stammer as my heart pounds in my ears. “I’m sorry… I…” My voice trails off with fear.

Werewolves hate it whenever I try to give them explanations for anything. They call me lazy or weak and, sometimes, give me a good smack or slap on my cheeks. They say I make too many excuses. But that does not stop me from still trying to explain myself.

How am I going to explain to this man that I have not finished cleaning his bedroom because Nathan, the Alpha’s son, was here groping me just a moment ago? He would laugh in my face and call me a liar. After all, who would believe that the Alpha’s son would stoop so low as to harass a human slave?

The man does not say a word to me, he doesn't bark out annoying commands or sneer at me like the rest of them. When I see his foot retreating, I look up just in time to see something flying toward me. I instinctively catch it between my hands. It is a bottle. The man does not wait to explain what it is or what he wants me to do with it. He simply turns on his heel and walks out, his footsteps echoing in the hallway. I stand there frozen, clutching the bottle in confusion. It’s only when I hear his steps fade completely that I finally exhale, releasing the breath I did not realize I was holding.

When I am certain he is not coming back, I look down at my hands and see that it is a bottle of ointment. Confusion furrows my brows, and I wonder if he knew what he threw at me. Did he see my neck? Did he give me this for my wound? Why would a werewolf care about my wound? 

I unscrew the cap and cautiously dab a small amount onto the stinging cut on my neck. The coolness soothes the burn almost immediately, and I exhale a shaky breath of relief. But I use only a tiny amount, just in case this isn't meant for me. I do not trust these werewolves; they never do anything without ulterior motives. After I have applied the ointment, I set the bottle down and get back to work, scrubbing and tidying the room as quickly as my trembling hands will allow. The last thing I need is for another one of them to find me still cleaning the room.

Once I’m sure the room is spotless enough to pass inspection, I gather my equipment and make my exit. Every muscle in my body protests, screaming for rest, but I drag myself to the kitchen to eat my meal. This is my favorite part of the day, when I finally get to eat. It’s nothing extravagant, just enough to keep me alive.

Food is the only reason I like werewolf parties. Tonight is a party night. Parties mean enough food, enough food means leftovers, and leftovers mean I will finally eat my fill. My stomach growls in anticipation, and a small smile creeps onto my face.  Maybe this isn’t such a bad birthday after all.

I am only halfway through my meal when I hear footsteps approaching. The sound echoes in the hallway, growing louder until Bridget appears at the kitchen entrance. A frown mars her face when she sees me sitting and eating.

“Hey, you,” she snaps, her eyes narrowing at me like I’ve committed some unforgivable crime. “What are you doing there?”

“Eating,” I reply flatly, my mouth still half-full. The obvious answer doesn’t seem to please her.

“Come here,” she barks.

I shove my bowl aside and jump to my feet, hurrying over to her like the obedient human I’m forced to be. Bridget is holding a tray full of glasses, with drink in them.

“Take these into the banquet hall and serve them,” she orders, thrusting the tray into my hands. “And make no mistakes.”

This isn’t my job. I’m not supposed to show my face at werewolf parties, except on rare occasions when I’m needed as extra staff—like now, apparently.

“Lyra, make sure you don’t embarrass us in front of the guests,” she adds. “Do you understand?”

"Yes, I understand,” I mutter, though my hands betray me by shaking ever so slightly.

She must have seen the way my hands are shaking. Balancing the tray carefully, I make my way to the banquet hall entrance. My nerves are already frayed, and the doorkeepers only make it worse.

“What are you doing here, human?” one of them growls, his nose wrinkling as if I already smell like trouble.

“Ms. Bridget sent me to serve these drinks,” I reply, fighting the urge to snap back.

The doorkeepers exchange a look before one of them grunts and signals the other to open the heavy double doors. They push them apart with an ease that reminds me just how strong they are, and I step into the grand hall.

The festive atmosphere hits me like a wall. The air is thick with laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses. Some werewolves are dancing, others feasting, and the rest are deep in conversation. Alpha Lucian is seated at the head of the room, his broad grin showing he is in a good mood and probably filled with wine. His Luna sits beside him, equally radiant.

Many werewolves notice my entrance. Eyes turn toward me, and faces twist into scowls and grimaces of disgust. Of course, they notice me. Their sense of smell is extraordinary. They can smell a anything from far away.

I keep my head down, focusing on not tripping or spilling the drinks as I weave my way through the crowd. My gaze lands on Nathan. Of course, it does. He is nestled between two women, and a lazy smirk is plastered across his face. His eyes lock onto mine, and he raises a hand, beckoning me over.

I exhale sharply, bracing myself, and walk toward him.

“Serve us,” he says with arrogance.

I set the tray on the table, my hands trembling as I try to keep the glasses steady. Nathan and his companions grab their drinks, but before I can retreat, his hand darts out, gripping my wrist.

His smirk widens as he pulls me closer, all while pressing his lips to one of the women beside him. My stomach churns in disgust, and I yank my hand away with enough force to make him chuckle.

Grabbing the tray, I spin on my heel, desperate to get away from him. But in my haste, I collide with someone, a solid wall of muscle, and the drinks spill, cascading down the front of their clothes.

Gasps fill the room, and my breath catches in my throat. I slowly lift my eyes to see the same man who gave me the ointment earlier. His icy blue gaze pierces me, and the air feels like it’s been sucked out of the room. The festive chatter dies instantly. All eyes are on me, and I wish the ground would just open up and swallow me whole.

“Who let this human in here?” Alpha Lucian’s booming voice rumbles through the silence, filled with anger.

My knees give way, and I collapse to the floor in front of the man, my entire body trembling.

“Oh, Alpha, forgive my stupidity,” Ms. Bridget’s voice rings out from somewhere behind me. “We were short-staffed, and she wasn’t doing anything. Please forgive me, my Alpha.”

The silence that follows stretches on, heavy and suffocating. I can barely breathe as I wait for my punishment, my heart pounding in my ears.

Then Alpha Lucian’s voice breaks the silence. 

“Alpha Kael, let me make amends for this terrible mistake the human made,” Alpha Lucian declares. “I offer her to you as a gift from my heart.”