The Second Hand Luna

3. Limits

IRIS

I woke up aching in places I had never known could ache.

My neck was stiff, my head was pounding while every muscle felt cramped and it ached to move.

I hadn’t slept much. Aside from the hunger and cold, the bond had made itself my personal executioner. It tugged, reminding me I was alone when I wasn’t meant to be. My mate had everything I needed steps away from me and all I needed to do was swallow my pride and knock.

I groaned, pressing my forehead to the steering wheel. Not even a hangover felt this bad.

This is what stubbornness gets us, my wolf muttered, not even sympathetic.

“Quiet,” I whispered, my throat dry. My phone lay dead and useless on the passenger seat, reminding me I still had not responded to Leo. I was a great liar, but I was shooting blanks on what to tell him.

I was still wrapped up in my thoughts when a sharp knock sounded against the window.

I jumped, startled and turned my head coming face to face with Ronan.

He stood outside my car, looking put together, like he had slept for a total of ten hours.

He wore a simple dark shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and in his hands was a paper bag and a disposable cup. The scent hit me even through the glass, eggs, bread, sausages and coffee.

My mouth watered while my stomach betrayed me with a loud, humiliating growl.

I swore under my breath while my wolf crooned weakly, Mate,

Ronan raised an eyebrow slightly, his gaze moving to my midsection before returning to my face.

“Morning,” he said.

I rolled the window down just enough to hear him, refusing to give him more than that. “What do you want?”

“To make sure you’re alive,” he said dryly. “And to give you breakfast.”

“I don’t want it.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Your stomach disagrees. You didn’t eat last night.”

I clenched my jaw. “Accepting anything from you is accepting the bond.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“That’s how it feels,” I snapped, pushing the window down further. “Release me.”

Ronan’s expression didn’t change, but something heavy passed through his eyes.

“I can’t.”

“You won’t,” I corrected bitterly. “There’s a difference.”

Silence stretched between us.

“Why are you doing this?” I demanded, the frustration and lifetime resentment finally spilling over.

“No one wanted me here, Ronan. Not the pack. Not my family. Not even you. I was invisible to everyone my entire life. Why are you clinging to me now?”

He inhaled as something unreadable crossed his face,

“You think this is punishment,” he said.

“It feels like it,” I shot back. “You refuse to break the bond. You keep me back when I try to leave. Why? We don’t want each other,” I insisted, the words feeling both like the truth and a lie on my lips.

“ You loved her. This hurts both of us. So why are you insisting on punishing us?”

For a moment, I thought he might say something but instead, he sighed. Without another word, he set the bag and cup gently on the hood of my car and stepped back.

“Eat when you’re ready,” he said quietly.

Then he turned and walked away. I stared after him still in disbelief. When the door of the house shut behind him I dug through my purse. I found receipts, lip balm, a crumpled notebook. I was not even sure I still had what I was looking for.

That was until my fingers closed around a familiar plastic bottle of HeatGuard. They were suppressants.

I had carried them for years, out of habit. Most wolves did. After discovering your mate, the bond had a nasty sense of urgency.

It prepared both parties for contact heat and rut which was meant to seal and secure it.

Once skin touched skin, instinct took over. Nothing stopped it.

The pills dulled that response. They bought people time. They were emergency measures and were mostly used to avoid public indecency, especially in moments where you could not afford to lose control.

I had never expected to ever need them but here I was. I checked the label. Expired. Of course, they were. My hand curled around the bottle anyway. I could not take any chances. Accidents happened. Ronan just needed to brush against me and everything would change.

I dry-swallowed two pills, gagging as they scraped down my throat. Just as I thought I was in the safe zone, I felt my bladder demanding my attention. I shifted uncomfortably.

I could go into the bushes. But that was risky. Someone could see me, said person being Ronan. I also had the option of shifting. It would be easier but I hated it. My wolf had a terrible aim for one, and the sensation after always made my skin crawl. I always felt dirty and I needed a full shower instead of a wipe down.

The two other options were Ronan’s house or holding it in. And the latter option won.

The battle with my bladder was temporarily won, but the one with my stomach was lost a few minutes later.

I grabbed the paper bag and the coffee and plugged my phone into the car charger.

The first bite nearly made me cry. I ate quickly, guiltily, as if someone might catch me committing a crime. By the time I finished, my phone had powered on. I opened it and froze.

40 missed calls. Unread messages stacked endlessly.

Iris, please just let me know you’re okay.

It’s 1 AM. Starting to really worry.

Call me as soon as you get this. Any time.

I’m thinking of calling the state patrol to check the mountain roads. Please, love.

Guilt washed over me immediately. I was here, eating my fated mate’s food while the man I had chosen was worried sick.

“What’s got you so worked up?” I jumped, nearly dropping the phone. Ronan stood a few feet away, holding a bottle of juice like a peace offering.

“No one,” I said too quickly, locking the screen.

His gaze flicked to the phone, then back to my face before he held out the bottle of juice. “You didn’t drink anything.”

I stared at it like it might explode. “I’m not accepting that.”

“You already ate.” He said.

“I will starve myself,” I said suddenly. “I’ll die if that’s what it takes to get out of this bond. If that’s what you want.”

The words hung between us ugly and cruel. Ronan stiffened.

This was not me. I did not intentionally hurt people. My wolf also whimpered in distress. Don’t, she pleaded. You’re hurting him.

“That’s not…” He stopped, jaw tightening. I had crossed a line.

“That’s a cruel thing to say.” he finished off.

“I know,” I whispered, shame flooding me. “But I need you to understand how desperate I am.”