Unscentable Luna

Elena Summers' POV:

On the night of the Full Moon Feast, my mate's first love, Sera Smith, came back.

Around her neck, she wore a moonstone pendant. A faint reddish streak lay at its center, one that could never be washed away. That streak was my blood.

I was making my way around the long table, pouring wine for the third time, when the doors to the party venue swung open. At that very moment, every werewolf in the room turned toward the entrance.

Standing in the doorway was Sera. She had on a thin white dress, and her face looked noticeably pale.

Years earlier, Imogen Blackwood, the mother of my mate, Rhys Blackwood, had driven her out of Somient. Sera had returned just three days earlier. According to the rumors, her wolf was weakening. Her scent faded a little more each day, and the doctors said she had no more than a year left.

A sudden rush of excited voices filled the entire pack's mind link.

"Sera's come back."

"Wasn't her scent supposed to be nearly gone?"

"She's the one who really has the scent of a Luna."

I couldn't detect any scent whatsoever. Of all the werewolves gathered together in that room, I alone had no wolf of my own.

From his chair, Rhys got to his feet. Striding right past me, he made his way straight to the entrance. In full view of the entire pack, he pressed his face into the curve of Sera's neck.

"It's been such a long time," he said in a trembling voice. "I believed my wolf had died. But it turns out you simply weren't around."

Still clutching the wine bottle, I remained standing in the same spot.

Five years had passed since our bond, yet he had never caught even a trace of my scent. Night after night, I slit my palm in the kitchen and dripped my blood into the pot of soup I made for him. He had no idea about any of it.

Yet there it was: a moonstone steeped in my blood, hanging from the neck against which he had pressed his face. I had obtained it after spending an entire day and night on my knees, praying at the Moon Goddess's temple. My son, Tyler Blackwood, had been three and gravely ill that year.

Tyler hopped down from the chair beside Imogen, hurried over to Sera, and took her by the hand.

"You smell wonderful, Ms. Smith!" he said brightly. "My mom doesn't smell like that. She always reeks of cooking oil or medicinal herbs."

Turning to look at me, he repeated what the adults always said. "She doesn't have any scent at all."

My little boy was just five years old. He had picked up those words from the grown-ups and was now repeating them exactly as he had heard them.

They weren't mistaken. Most werewolves underwent their first transformation at around the age of sixteen. I kept waiting, but that first shift never happened for me.

My mother had left behind a recipe for a concoction known as moonweed potion. Before her death, she held tightly to my hand and instructed me to drink one whole bottle every single morning, without skipping a day, until my twenty-fifth birthday. I had been drinking that potion ever since I was little, without ever once asking why I needed it.

That was how I came to be known as the scentless Luna of the Silverfang Pack. The pack members acknowledged me as their Luna only because their Alpha had marked me as his mate and I had borne his heir.

My daughter, Nova Blackwood, had not come tonight. She had been born seven minutes later than Tyler, and because she wasn't the heir, she had no place at the head table.

With one arm wrapped firmly around Sera, Rhys headed back toward the table. For the very first time that entire evening, he looked in my direction.

"From this day on, Sera is going to stay in the main house. Elena, prepare some of that soothing soup you make each night for her as well."

That meant I would be feeding his first love with my very own blood.

"Okay," I heard myself reply.

...

Sera came after me to the sink at the far end of the hallway. She drew the pendant out from between her collarbones, rested it on her palm, and swung it gently.

"Does this look familiar? Tyler told me wearing it would help me recover. That's why he gave it to me." Smiling, she added, "He told me he wishes I were his mother, too."

My hands tightened into fists until my nails sank into my palms, though I could feel nothing at all.

"And the Luna ceremony you've spent years waiting for? Rhys just gave me his word that he'll hold it for me at the next full moon."

"Naturally, there's no way I could measure up to you." My voice remained completely flat. "Rhys' sister adores you. His friends adore you. Both Rhys and Tyler are devoted to you. Even the Moon Goddess... favors people like you."

And those favored by the Moon Goddess were always summoned home sooner.

Sera immediately understood what I was suggesting. In the very next instant, tears began gathering in her eyes. "Elena, I've only just come back, and you're already hoping that I'll die?"

I saw no reason to turn around. The very instant her face changed, I realized that somebody had come up behind me.

"Elena, just who are you hoping will die?" Derek Jones, Rhys' childhood friend, came charging over with an angry roar.

I finally turned around. Behind Derek stood Rhys, with a look that was as cold as ice. "Elena, you need to apologize."

Five whole years had gone by. And every single time, he said the same thing.

Without answering, I moved to walk past him. He seized my wrist and squeezed until my bones made a creaking sound.

"I said you need to apologize," he said, towering above me. "Are you listening to me?"

The pain brought a cold sweat out across my forehead, but I still managed to force a strained smile. "Alpha Rhys tried to break his own mate's wrist during the Full Moon Feast. How do you suppose the Werewolf Council would react if word of this ever reached them?"

At once, his fingers relaxed around my wrist. A dark purple ring of bruises had already begun forming around my skin.

"Rhys," I asked in an even voice, "have you ever had any feelings for me during all these years?"

"I haven't. You're kind and considerate, and you make a fine Luna. But you're no different from a glass of water-tasteless, dull, and without the slightest scent." He paused, and the faintest hint of a smile appeared in his eyes. That smile wasn't meant for me, though. He added, "I'd started to believe there was something wrong with my wolf. Tonight was the first time I understood there wasn't."

I turned away and made my way back into the party venue.

Inside, the werewolves were all still holding up their glasses. The chair carved with a crescent moon, positioned to the Alpha's left, belonged to the Luna. Sera was the one occupying that seat now. Beside her stood Tyler, gripping the edge of her dress.

Stopping in the center of the room, I lifted my hand and laid it against the mark on the side of my neck.

"I, Elena Summers, Luna of the Silverfang Pack," I said in a firm, clear voice, "reject you, Rhys Blackwood, Alpha of the Silverfang Pack, as my mate before the Moon Goddess and the whole pack."

A wave of scorching pain erupted at the side of my neck and shot directly into my heart. It was as though someone had thrust a hand inside me and begun tearing out my soul. My ears rang with a loud hum as my vision turned completely white.

Gripping tightly onto a pillar for support, I managed to remain standing.

By the time that dazzling light disappeared, Rhys had taken his place in the doorway. For a long, weighty moment, he stared directly into my eyes without looking away.

"I refuse to accept it."

Elena's POV:

It was as though something inside me had been ripped apart without being completely severed. All that remained was a hollow, persistent, dull ache.

The mark along the side of my neck gradually lost its color until it turned gray. Though it was dead, the mark was still there on my skin. Until Rhys accepted my rejection, the Werewolf Council would continue to list me as his mate in its official records.

"Whether you choose to accept it is entirely your business," I said in a steady voice. "I, Elena Summers, hereby leave the Silverfang Pack before the Moon Goddess and the entire pack. As of tonight, Alpha of the Silverfang Pack no longer has any authority over me."

As soon as I finished speaking, the mind link that had connected me to the pack broke apart. It had been ages since anyone spoke to me through the mind link. Still, its presence had never disappeared, like a lamp left burning unnoticed in an empty house. That lamp had finally gone dark.

Never before had I felt so light.

"Elena, go back to your room now."

I heard Rhys issue his Alpha command, but none of its power reached me.

Silence settled over the entire venue. Rhys appeared stunned for a brief moment.

Still gripping the hem of Sera's dress, Tyler stared at me with a blank look. For the first time, he seemed to understand that his mother could also choose to leave.

"And what happens to Tyler?" Rhys asked.

"He'll remain with the Blackwood family," I replied.

Without so much as lifting her eyes, Imogen put down her wineglass. "Take the girl. The heir is all we need."

I made my way toward the door. Rhys spoke as I walked past him. "Don't forget what you said here today. Don't come back to me begging through your tears."

"Rest assured, that day is never going to come."

He lowered his eyes to me. "I wouldn't be so certain. It would be smart to have someone you could rely on."

I turned my face toward him, giving him a small, faint smile. "That's true. But you will never be the person I turn to for support."

...

It was already after midnight when I finally made it back to the main house.

The soup prepared for tomorrow was still sitting warm on the stove, containing nightwort, valerian root, and a few drops of my own blood.

As a little boy, Tyler often suffered from burning fevers. It took me some time to discover that my blood was what soothed him. Rhys had struggled with insomnia for years. After discovering the effect of my blood on my son, I began adding it to Rhys' soup, and he would fall asleep each night as soon as his head touched the pillow. Nobody had ever managed to detect it by taste.

Taking hold of the clay pot, I emptied its contents into the sink. The dark brown liquid spiraled away through the drain.

Starting tonight, I would never make that soup again.

At seventeen, I used to sing while hiding among the trees in a back garden in Meridia. My heart missed a beat the instant I laid eyes on Rhys. He followed the sound of my singing past the entire row of trees where I was concealed, never once stopping. He continued walking until he reached the other end of the garden, where Sera was practicing that very same song.

I had been nothing but a substitute from the beginning.

The moonweed potion I was supposed to take the following morning remained in the nightstand, still sealed with wax. My mother had warned me never to skip even one day of it until I reached twenty-five. Only last month, I had celebrated my twenty-fifth birthday.

I didn't touch the sealed vial.

The following morning, I stopped briefly outside Tyler's room as I passed by. Then I opened the door and walked in.

He sat at his small desk working on his homework. After giving me his customary "Morning, Mom," he lowered his eyes to his work again.

"Tyler, Mom is going away," I said to him gently. "Make sure you take care of yourself."

Without bothering to raise his head, he answered, "Okay."

Just as I was about to reach the door, he unexpectedly called out to stop me. "Mom, didn't you say you'd like whoever I liked? I like Sera a lot, so that means you'll like her as well, right?"

His words extinguished whatever small amount of hope I still had left.

For a moment, I shut my eyes and made myself smile.

"You've always been eager to protect her, right?" My voice remained calm as I said, "From this point on, you and your father can look after her together."

He stared at me and blinked, clearly unable to understand.

On the vanity of my bedroom, I placed my signed bond dissolution agreement alongside my supplementary credit card. I brought nothing except an old canvas bag, two sets of spare clothes, and my medical kit.

Out on the back porch, Nova stood waiting for me with her stuffed bunny clutched in her arms. She never questioned where we were headed. Instead, her only question was, "Will Tyler come with us too?"

"Tyler will be staying here."

Her arms tightened slightly around the bunny. "In that case, I'm coming with you, Mom."

Martha Williams, who had kept house for the family for years, slipped a thick envelope into my hand. "This is for your travel expenses."

Her eyes were red around the edges. "You spent a whole day and night in labor and almost lost your life bringing your children into the world. After that, you dedicated yourself to raising Tyler. How could he choose an outsider over you?"

"Well, the son takes after his father," I answered. "They even share the same preferences when it comes to women."

She gave the back of my hand a gentle pat. "I've witnessed how much you've endured over the past several years. Leave now. Don't turn around."

Year after year, my days had centered on preparing meals and looking after the children. In the process, I had gradually lost sight of the person I once was.

Once darkness fell, I took Nova by the hand and we boarded the last bus heading toward the eastern side of the city.

"The final stop is Greystone Ferry." The driver looked at me through the rearview mirror. "The territory across the river belongs to the bikers. None of the packs holds any power there. It's dangerous after dark, so be careful not to wander around when you get off."

Curled up in my arms, Nova listened as I hummed the old melody my mother had passed down to me, until I reached the end. I assumed she was asleep, but she abruptly lifted her face to look at me.

"Mom," she murmured, "you haven't taken your medicine today."

Elena's POV:

I gave Nova no answer.

That vial of moonweed potion was still on the nightstand where I'd left it. My mother had told me that once I was past twenty-five, I would no longer need to take the potion. But she had never told me why.

A light rain had already begun to fall by the time the bus pulled into Greystone Ferry. At the foot of the slope lay the ferry landing, where empty boats remained chained to the docks and the loud roar of the river filled the air.

In my arms, Nova began to stir. My heart sank as I bent my head to kiss her forehead.

Her skin was burning with fever.

"Mom, I'm freezing."

I slipped off my coat and wrapped it securely around her. Fever had turned her little face bright red, and she was breathing in quick, shallow gasps. Although I had herbs to bring down a fever in my bag, I had no pot, fire, or clean water.

George Thorne, an elderly doctor, had taught me that when a cub with a fever developed cold hands and feet, there was no time to waste.

Already, Nova's little feet had gone icy cold.

Far across the river, a distant cluster of lights shone through the rainy darkness. Surely there had to be a bridge farther upstream.

With Nova in my arms, I headed uphill along the road that followed the river.

Imogen's words from the previous night came back to me. "Take the girl."

Then I remembered what Rhys had warned me. "Don't come back to me begging through your tears."

But I hadn't shed a single tear. I moved Nova a little higher in my arms and began walking even faster.

Without warning, a brilliant white pair of headlights appeared around the curve, their glare almost blinding. A motorcycle sped out of the bend, straddling the centerline of the road.

There was no time to get away. I could only turn and pull Nova completely into my embrace to protect her.

At the last possible moment, the rider jerked his handlebars toward his side of the road. The tires shrieked against the rain-soaked asphalt as the motorcycle hurtled past, narrowly missing my back.

A deafening crash rang out.

The motorcycle went flying through the air before slamming into the guardrail and eventually coming to rest overturned in the roadside drainage ditch. The man flew off the motorcycle, which came down on top of one of his legs, trapping it.

I settled Nova beneath a large tree beside the road, pulled my coat snugly over her, and then turned and ran toward the man.

He was lying on his back in the muddy water, utterly unconscious. I tried with all my strength to lift the motorcycle off him, but its twisted frame had trapped his leg. However hard I tugged at it, I couldn't move it.

His leather jacket had split along the ribs, and blood had soaked through the clothing beneath it. Blood had also saturated the pant leg pinned beneath the motorcycle. The air was thick with the pungent odors of gasoline and blood.

Dropping down to my knees, I pressed both hands firmly over the wound near his ribs.

In the distance, another line of headlights came into view. Eight motorcycles braked sharply along the side of the road, and their riders leaped off before rushing down into the ditch.

"Chris!" one of them called out.

Someone seized my arm and dragged me backward. "Who told you that you could touch him?"

"Get away!" another man yelled.

Two men lifted me up and forced me down into the muddy water. One of the other riders crouched beside the unconscious man, took hold of his shoulders, and tried to pull him out from beneath the motorcycle.

"You can't move him!" I shouted in desperation. "His broken bone is lodged in a blood vessel! If you pull him, he'll die!"

The rider's face flushed bright red. "He's trapped beneath the bike and can barely breathe. What's so wrong with getting him out first?"

"If you actually knew what you were doing, you wouldn't try dragging him out like that!"

"We need to wait for the doctor from town!" one of the men holding me down shouted. "A woman without a scent is wandering along this road in the middle of the night, and Chris just happens to crash his motorcycle? Who sent you here?"

"If something happens to our president, you'll pay for it with your life!"

As they spoke over one another, a handful of completely unfounded assumptions was enough for them to label me a spy sent by another pack to kill that man named Chris.

I struggled wildly to get loose as cold, muddy water poured inside my collar, but I couldn't break free of their hold. I could only watch as the water beneath the injured man turned a deeper and deeper red.

Whenever I had spoken the truth, nobody had believed a word of it.

I didn't know this man at all, but I'd studied medicine and simply couldn't stand by and watch him die.

"I've had medical training!" I yelled hoarsely. "Would you truly rather put your faith in a doctor who hasn't even arrived here yet than trust what I'm telling you?"

The rider preparing to pull Chris free stopped, his hands suspended in the air as he hesitated.

"Why are you still waiting?" one of his friends urged.

He drew a long, deep breath and was just about to act when Chris, lying at the bottom of the ditch, abruptly opened his eyes. His eyes were unfocused, yet they settled directly on my face.

There was a slight movement of his lips. "Let her... handle it."

His voice came out rough and hoarse, almost lost beneath the sound of the heavy rain.

The men pinning me down instinctively relaxed their grip.

The man I'd been with for so many years had never believed me. But a stranger lying in the mud, unable even to make out my face clearly, had believed me.