After My Sister Became Luna, I Was His Blood Slave

The sunlight filtered through unfamiliar curtains, casting golden patterns across the bedspread. I stared at them, trying to focus on something tangible while the fog in my mind refused to lift.

"You still don't remember anything?" Dr. Elena asked gently, checking my vitals.

I shook my head, wincing at the dull ache that persisted. "Nothing."

The door opened, and Alpha Ian entered. My body tensed instinctively, a reaction I couldn't control. He noticed—he noticed everything—and kept his distance.

"We need to call you something," he said, his voice low and gentle. "Until your memories return."

"Kyra," I whispered, the name surfacing from somewhere deep within. "I think... I think that's my name."

Ian's expression shifted subtly. "Kyra," he repeated, testing the name. Then he shook his head. "It suits you, but..."

"But?"

"It might be dangerous if someone is looking for you," he explained. "Until we know what happened, perhaps a new name would be safer."

I nodded, understanding without fully knowing why.

"Elara," he suggested. "It means 'light.'"

"Elara," I repeated, trying it on. It felt wrong and right simultaneously—a name that wasn't mine yet somehow belonged to this new version of me.

"Would you like to move into the Alpha house?" Ian asked. "The guest room is more comfortable than the medical wing."

My stomach clenched. "The Alpha house?"

"You'll have your own space," he assured me. "No one will enter without your permission."

The word 'permission' struck me as odd. When had an Alpha ever cared about permission?

---

Later that evening, Ian brought me a tray of food. Simple fare—soup, bread, and fruit—but my reaction shocked us both.

I flinched violently, knocking over the bowl. Soup splashed across the table and onto the floor.

"I'm sorry!" I gasped, dropping to my knees to clean the mess with my hands. "I'll clean it! Please don't—"

"Elara," Ian's voice was soft, pained. He knelt beside me, not touching me. "You don't need to apologize."

But I couldn't stop trembling. Couldn't stop expecting the blow that never came.

"Someone hurt you," he said quietly. It wasn't a question.

I looked up at him through tear-blurred eyes. "I don't know."

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "I'm going to find out who did this to you," he promised. "And they will pay."

The fierce protectiveness in his voice should have frightened me. Instead, it kindled something warm in my chest.

---

The nightmares always began the same way.

A massive black wolf with burning red eyes circled me, teeth bared in a snarl. "You belong to me," it growled, voice like gravel. "You'll never escape."

I'd wake screaming, sheets tangled around my legs like restraints.

"Please," I begged as the door burst open. "Please don't hurt me!"

Ian stood in the doorway, his silhouette outlined by the hallway light. He didn't approach, didn't use his Alpha voice to command me to calm down.

Instead, he began to hum—a low, soothing melody that vibrated through the air between us.

"Come sit by the door," he invited. "If you want."

I hesitated, then crawled across the bed toward him. He sat cross-legged in the doorway, still humming.

"Can I hold your hand?" he asked.

My fingers trembled as I extended them. His palm was warm against mine, solid and steady.

"That's it," he murmured. "Just breathe."

Something sparked between us at his touch—a warmth that spread from my hand to my chest, chasing away the cold fear.

---

"The meadow is a good place to practice," Ian said six months later, leading me through tall grass that swayed around our knees.

"Practice what?" I asked.

He turned to me, studying my posture with those perceptive eyes. "Standing tall."

I immediately lowered my gaze, hunching my shoulders forward.

Ian sighed softly. "Elara, look at me."

I forced myself to meet his eyes.

"A Luna bows to no one," he said firmly, reaching out to lift my chin with gentle fingers.

"A Luna?" I echoed.

"You don't need to know why yet," he replied mysteriously. "Just remember what I told you."

He guided me through the meadow, correcting my posture each time I slumped back into old habits. The sun warmed my skin as we walked, and for the first time in my fragmented memory, I felt something close to peace.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked finally. "Why help me?"

Ian stopped walking, his expression serious. "Because everyone deserves to stand tall, Elara. Especially you."

Something shifted in my chest then—a realization that this Alpha wasn't like the others. That perhaps I wasn't the broken thing I believed myself to be.

I reached for his hand without thinking, and when our fingers intertwined, that same spark of warmth returned—stronger now, more insistent.

Who was Elara? And why did Ian look at me sometimes like he was seeing someone else entirely?