Their Forgotten Luna

Pack Politics

Cierra:

Being in his arms was a moment that passed far too quickly. One of his hands ran gently across my cheek, while the other rested at the small of my back. He guided me closer, adjusting my body until I was looking him in the eye.

He ran both thumbs across my face and eyes. Then his hand slid into his pocket, pulling out a black handkerchief. When he cleaned my face and nose, I nearly sobbed all over again.

“We have a meeting with the council in thirty minutes, and they can’t see my beta upset like this.” His words, though soft, nearly made my stomach flip over itself completely.

I wanted to ask if I had to be there. But I already knew the answer to that. I already knew it was required of me.

“I’ll go back and get cleaned up and changed.” My voice sounded rough, betraying how I felt—something else I needed to address before the meeting.

Before I did, though, there was one thing I needed to do. "Can I kiss you?" I asked. My heart hammered against my ribs so violently I would swear one may shatter.

Instead of answering, his hands claimed my face, pulling me into his solid, warm body. My fingers wove through his hair, and when our lips met, molten heat erupted in my stomach. I moaned into him as his tongue pressed hungrily against mine, an intensity so raw I doubted I’d ever escape this moment.

My hips ground against him, once, twice. His hard length throbbed against me. The thin leggings did nothing to hide how hard he was for me. That lava burned hotter, brighter with such raw power that I dug my nails into his shoulders, then his back, rolling my hips against him.

He tore his mouth from mine with a ragged groan, his breath hot against my lips. Before I could chase him, his hands shifted, standing us on our feet, pushing me back until my shoulders hit the cool brick wall. The shock of it made me gasp, but then his body pressed flush to mine, pinning me in place, his thigh sliding between mine like he’d been born to command me.

A hiss escaped me as the rough stone scraped my back, the sting only fueling the fire in my veins. His eyes darkened at the sound, and his lips curved into a wicked smirk before he dipped his head to my ear.

“You feel that?” he growled, grinding against me, making my breath falter. “That’s what you do to me.” His mouth claimed my neck, hot and wet, sucking, biting just enough to leave me trembling and arching closer.

Every inch of me burned for him. His hand spread wide against my hip, anchoring me while the other slid higher, teasing over my ribs until I thought I might shatter from wanting more. His whispers spilled against my skin, intoxicating, every word another chain binding me to him.

“My sweet girl… You drive me mad… goddess, I could lose myself with you…”

I clawed at his shoulders, desperate, my hips rolling with his until I was gasping his name. The world narrowed to the grind of his body, the heat of his breath, the dizzying flood of pleasure that left me ready to beg—unashamed, undone—

Until he froze. His chest heaved, his mouth still at my throat, his whole body trembling with restraint.

“We can’t,” he rasped, the words breaking me open more than the hunger in his eyes. He dragged in a breath, forcing his hips to still even as I whimpered at the loss. “Not yet.”

My confusion must have shown, because he cupped my cheek with a tenderness that clashed with the feral heat in his gaze. His thumb brushed over my lips, swollen from his kiss.

“Not until your birthday,” he whispered, voice thick with torment. “That’s the rule, and if I break it now, I won’t be able to stop.”

The promise in his tone left me trembling harder than his touch had. He pressed one last kiss to the corner of my mouth and lingered there. Then he leaned his forehead against mine.

“We’ve got thirty minutes before the council,” he reminded, softer now, though his voice carried the same restrained fire. “But afterward… I have something for you.

”His lips quirked, dark and feral, before he stepped back, leaving me flushed, shaking, and aching against the wall.

My legs felt like water when he finally stepped away. The imprint of his body lingered against mine. The ghost of his lips burned along my neck. I pressed my palms flat against the cool brick wall, drew in a shaky breath, and forced myself to steady my stance, focusing on the wall beneath my hands to reel myself back in before I fell apart entirely.

Not until my birthday. The words echoed in my chest, heavy and intoxicating, equal parts torment and promise.

By the time I pulled myself free from the shadows of that hallway and slipped back toward my rooms, my heart hadn’t slowed. My skin still hummed with him. Every step reminded me of what he’d said—what we couldn’t have yet—and the cruel, beautiful fire he’d left smoldering in me.

The shower hissed to life. Steam curled around me as I stripped out of my clothes. The leggings clung damp with sweat, the shirt stretched where I’d gripped him too hard. I dropped them to the floor and stepped under the spray, letting the water scald the heat from my skin.

For a moment, I pressed my forehead to the tile and breathed deep. The stone was cool beneath my skin, grounding, but it couldn’t wash away the memory of his mouth on my throat or his hands pinning me in place. I scrubbed hard, lathered and rinsed, forcing myself to shed not just his scent but the wrecked, emotional state he’d found me in.

By the time I shut off the water, I was raw but steadier. I toweled off, wrapped the fabric tight, and moved to the small chest where my clothes waited, folded neatly.

The council wouldn’t care how I felt; they cared only about how I looked.

I pulled on black cargo pants—fitted but functional. Each pocket was sleekly pressed shut; nothing sloppy. A dark compression shirt molded to my frame, showing the lean muscle I’d carved into myself through endless training. Over that, I shrugged into a tailored, military-style jacket—charcoal gray with reinforced shoulders, slim cut, and silver hardware glinting at the collar and cuffs. My combat boots laced tight to my calves grounded me, heavy enough to remind anyone who looked that I wasn’t delicate.

I fastened the slim tactical belt around my waist, sliding a single sheathed blade into place at my hip. Not a threat—just a statement. The kind of detail no one in that chamber would overlook.

My reflection stared back at me in the mirror. My hair, still damp, was pulled into a sharp high braid that exposed the line of my throat without apology. My face, clean and bare, left no illusions. Faint shadows rested beneath my eyes, but the steel in my gaze cut sharper than any paint or powder could.

I adjusted the jacket once more, squared my shoulders, and took a deep breath.

When the knock came at my door—his knock—I was ready. Or at least, I hoped I was.

The knock came again, low and steady. His voice followed. "Cierra. It’s time."

I opened the door. Dominic’s eyes swept over me—my braid, my jacket, the dagger at my side. His lips curved faintly. “You look ready to face them.”

“Even if I don’t feel it,” I muttered.

“Then stand like you do,” he said simply, and together we walked down the corridor.

The council chamber was already filled when the doors opened. Seven elders sat in their high-backed seats, their voices dropping to murmurs as I stepped into the center circle. Dominic moved to the edge, arms folded, silent but steady at my back.

“The beta arrives,” Elder Harrow announced, his deep voice rolling through the chamber. “We meet to discuss the aftermath of the rogue attack.”

Elder Veyna leaned forward, her gaze sharp and intent. “Tell us, Cierra. How did they breach our defenses? Who led them? What did they want?”

My mouth went dry. I forced myself to stand tall, though the words caught in my throat.

“I… don’t know.”

“Don’t know?” Elder Darnell’s voice was cutting. “You were in the heart of the attack. You expect us to believe you saw nothing?”

I swallowed hard. “I remember being there. And then—pain. Fear. After that… nothing. The attack left me without my memories of what happened. If I could give you the answers, I would.”

A tense ripple ran through the chamber. Several elders exchanged looks, some skeptical, others uneasy.

“Convenient,” Darnell muttered.

“Or concerning,” Veyna countered, though her eyes lingered on me, searching.

And then Alyssa’s voice rang out, smooth and poisonous. She stepped from the shadows along the wall, her every movement calculated.

“I was there.”

All eyes turned to her. She folded her hands in front of her, her expression serene as if she were offering a gift rather than sharpening a blade.

“I remember clearly what she claims she cannot. The rogues were not random. They weren’t here for territory or resources.” She paused, her gaze locking onto mine with cool satisfaction. “They came for her. For Cierra.”

Gasps rippled through the chamber.

“That’s a lie,” I snapped, the words leaving me before I could hold them back.

“Is it?” Alyssa’s tone dripped with false innocence. “I was there. I saw how they moved. They didn’t chase the guards. They didn’t storm the supplies. Every strike drove them closer to her.” She turned to the elders, her voice firm. “You all know what that means. She isn’t just unready, she’s a target. A danger to herself, and to all of us.”

Whispers erupted across the chamber, louder this time, sharper.

My fists clenched at my sides. “I didn’t ask for this. Whatever they wanted, I won’t run from it. And I won’t let them use me to break us.”

Silence fell. The elders studied me, their faces unreadable.

Then Dominic’s voice cut through the tension, low but carrying.

“She fought. That’s what you need to remember. Whether or not she recalls the details, she stood against them. None of you were there to see it—but I was. She’s earned the right to stand here now.”

Every head turned toward him. He didn’t move from where he leaned against the wall, arms still crossed, but his voice was unwavering. “She’s not a liability. She’s a survivor. And that makes her more valuable than any of you are giving her credit for.”

The chamber quieted, though unease lingered like a cloud of smoke. Finally, Elder Harrow raised a hand.

“This matter isn’t settled. But it is enough for tonight. We will revisit it when more is known.”

The elders rose, their robes whispering as they filed out, still murmuring. Alyssa lingered a moment longer, her eyes cutting to me, cold and triumphant, before she swept from the room.

I stood frozen in the circle, my jaw tight, my hands trembling at my sides, until Dominic crossed the space and set a firm hand on my shoulder.

“Ready or not,” he said quietly, “you held your ground. And that’s what they’ll remember.”