Blood on the Moon

Rose

I have no earthly idea who could’ve seen this coming, but in a surprising turn of events, Asher and I polished off two bottles of my nicest red together and are half naked on the couch, his body looming over mine, tongue in my throat and fingers in my pussy.

The tip of his cock peeks through the hem of his boxers, his eyelids glowing blue from his fiery eyes underneath; fire is at its hottest when it is blue.

My panties are pulled to the side, and my bra, shirt, and leggings are discarded on the floor. I try my best not to leave too sharp of marks on his back, ones that won’t stay, but I still want him to feel it.

We’ve been holding back from each other sexually ever since we broke the seal last week. It’s like when you take the first hit of a drug. Leading up to that, you don’t necessarily crave it or think about it.

But after?

It’s all you want to do. All you think about. All you desire.

We’re a couple of horny teenagers exploring each other’s bodies and our own as we navigate a love full of passion. We’re that, minus the immaturity and stupid arguments.

“Oh, Asher!” I whine as he curls his fingers, pumping them in and out of me with ferocity as he growls into my mouth, the muscles of his arms flexed and tight. It’s got to be the most erotic thing I’ve seen in my life. But I’m sure he’ll top it someday. Again and again.

“So wet for me,” he whispers in my mouth, nipping my bottom lip, teasing me.

“Only for you,” I speak right back into him, closing the gap between our lips, but he pulls away before I can, smiling.

He’s toying with me.

I whimper, trying again, but he pulls back at the last second.

“You’re so mean to me,” I chastise with a pouty lip.

“Poor baby,” he answers with a wink as he circles my clit with his thumb. I throw my head back, moaning loudly as I grip the sides of the couch, my nails digging into the fabric so much I fear I may tear it.

“Good girl,” he muses. “Such a little whore for me, aren’t you?”

My eyes widen, taken aback by the words that have slipped from his mouth. I never expected that he’d have this side of him.

It’s…

Arousing.

“I’m so sorry,” he sputters. “That just kind of slipped out. I don’t actually think you're a-”

“Shut up,” I command, nipping his lip. “Call me that again. Call me your little slut.”

His eyes darken, more brown than blue, which is also surprising.

This is coming from him, not his wolf. The thought makes me smile, happy that he’s coming more into his sexual desires, not just his wolf’s animalistic instincts. He feels safe enough with me to express them.

The thought warms my heart.

And makes me wet.

“You, Rose Carver, belong to me,” he says, his voice gravely and impossibly low. He wraps his hand around my throat loosely. “You’re my little slut. Who does that beautiful pussy of yours belong to?”

“Y-You,” I reply, his dominance making my voice tremble. I tend to be a more dominant personality, and I’m sure I’ll let that side of my sexuality show next time we’re intimate since I’m very excited by the idea of saying these exact words to him one day about his cock. But, for now, I’m perfectly content being submissive to him. I love it. I love that he wants to claim me, own me. It’s erotic. Especially since we both know that outside of the bedroom, or wherever we choose to fuck, we’re equals. We’re partners. We’re lovers. “You, Alpha.”

“Hmm,” he hums in my ear, his hand still working wonders on my cunt. “You love calling me that, don’t you, doll?”

“Yes.”

“You ready for my cock? You think your tight little pussy can take it?”

“P-Please!” I beg. “Don’t be gentle this time.”

“Oh, I won’t,” he promises, stepping off the couch for a second to pull his boxers down.

Just as his phone dings!

His face deflates, and he sighs, glancing at his phone.

“It’s Margaery,” he tells me.

I frown, knowing the moment's over, despite how horny I still am.

“What’d she say?” I ask, trying to hide my disappointment.

He sits beside me, his phone in his hand as he uses the other to rub the inside of my leg. “We may still have a few minutes. Hold on.”

He reads the words on the screen, and the way his eyes widen tells me we don’t have any more time.

“Shit, shit, shit!” He hisses. “They’re on their way back, and Gen is furious.”

“Why?” I ask. “What happened at the club?”

He lets out a nervous laugh, running his hand through his hair and looking me in the eyes with an expression of disbelief.

“Evander is Margaery’s mate.”

Asher

I threw my clothes on as quickly as possible, reluctant as I was. But duty calls, and I hope Rose understands. No, not hope. I know she understands. Still, I know she was disappointed. So was I.

But, from what Margaery said, Gen is speeding back home like a bat out of hell, so I need to book it. I can’t be missing when she arrives, or she may overturn every stone, burning down my family’s home in the process if I’m not there.

I took the quickest shower, scrubbing myself raw to ensure Rose’s scent isn’t on me. I even immediately started a load of laundry to make sure she didn’t smell it in the hamper or wafting through the house in any capacity. Usually, I have a few hours after I spend time with Rose for the scent to leave slowly, but I have mere minutes today.

But what Margaery revealed is insane. Evander? Evander the AlphaI of River Run Pack? Our nemesis? I’m not shocked that she’s mates with someone of such high status since she is the daughter of an Alpha and Luna, even if she holds no station because of her sister.

I can’t tell if this will help or hurt us. On one hand, having Evander as an ally will be excellent. He’ll be loyal to his mate, which guarantees his support of my reign since Margaery will tell him to trust me. That also means we can coordinate with them to prevent a war.

But, on the other side, Gen knows that Margaery is his mate. It would’ve been much better for us had Margaery found this out without Gen there. Now that Gen knows, this may infuriate her further. This may force her to start a war and keep Evander’s hands tied.

I’ll have to get more information from Margaery when she arrives. Then, we can figure out what to do from there.

SLAM!

The front door whips open, crashing against the wall, leaving a significant dent from the knob in it. Gen’s eyes are terrifyingly bright, but she pays me no mind, only staring at me for a second as if making a mental checkmark that I am accounted for before stomping up the stairs.

Another door slams and I hear a loud shriek and crashing noises. Margaery has a mark on her face when she walks in, tears streaming down her cheeks, the strap of her dress torn.

She waves for me to step outside, and I quickly do.

“Marg, are you alright?” I ask, keeping my voice quiet in case Gen decides to try to listen in. I don’t think she will, though. She’s in the midst of a temper tantrum.

“No!” She cries. “She’s keeping me from my mate! Oh, Goddess, I feel your pain in such a tormenting way! This is awful, being forced apart!”

“I know, I know,” I soothe, pulling her into a hug in an attempt to calm her down. “You need to lower your voice. We can’t risk her hearing.”

Margaery nods, pulling away and wiping her eyes, sniffling softly. “I-I’m meeting with him tonight. I saw a message from him appear in the car; one Gen couldn’t see.”

“Huh?” I ask. “How is that possible?”

“The witch that works for him, Adelaide, was with him. I’m sure she’s the one who sent it. She’s extremely talented in the ways of magic.”

“Okay, okay,” I reply, taking a deep breath. “So you’re meeting him. What’s the plan? What’re you going to tell him? You can’t disappear with him.”

“I know that,” she replies. “W-We have to get him to make a big deal about her threatening a war. She screamed at him in front of everyone, threatening him once he declared me as his mate.”

“That’s very good for us,” I encourage her. “We need to milk that for everything it’s worth. We need people to push this narrative. What kind of person would keep her sister from her mate? An Alpha mate, no less? Especially when that mate pairing could prevent a pointless war and bring peace between two powerful packs?”

“It makes her look incompetent,” Margaery affirms, nodding. “We just need to get the message out there. Somewhere where other packs will see it. Something so glaring and obvious that it’ll be impossible to ignore.”

“It can’t come from either of us,” I reply. “It’s got to come from Evander. He’s got to be level-headed about it, too. He can’t go guns blazing because he’ll look as wild as her. He needs to be her antithesis.”

“Right.”

“Speak to him tonight. Enjoy what moments you can with your mate,” I tell her, kissing her forehead. “I understand your struggle, and I am here for you. It won’t be long, I promise. We’ll be with our other halves soon.”

“I hope so,” she says, her voice cracking. “I-I don’t know how you’ve endured this for months.”

“Strength,” I reply matter-of-factly, simplifying what is an amalgamation of qualities that have allowed me to push through all the trauma. A quality that will enable me to carry on and love wholeheartedly.

A quality I believe in my bones that she possesses since we have been through the same trauma, and she wouldn’t have survived it if she didn’t have it.

“Strength that I know you have.”