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Claiming His Luna Novel Cover

Claiming His Luna

Elara lives in the shadows after a violent assault destroys her pack. She is on the run from a cruel Alpha determined to possess her. Her life changes upon meeting Silas, a formidable lone wolf who sparks an intense, fated connection. As Elara uncovers the truth about her ancestors, she must determine if Silas is a worthy ally. Facing escalating danger, the pair confronts a shared destiny that threatens to reshape the entire werewolf world forever.
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Chapter 1

Cercei’s POV

I gently wiped the beads of sweat from my forehead, my tired body bent over the task of scrubbing the floor. The weight of the brush in my hand felt heavier with each passing moment.

“Gosh, can you pick up the pace?” came the sharp voice of Vienna, the daughter of our Alpha, piercing the air from behind me.

“Certainly, miss,” I replied, my voice filled with deference, and I increased the speed of my scrubbing.

Vienna had conveniently spilled paint on the floor, which she claimed was accidental, but her malicious intent was evident. It was now my responsibility to rectify the mess she had created.

“Stupid girl,” Vienna muttered under her breath as she turned her back on me. With one final act of cruelty, she kicked the paint can that lay beside me before departing the kitchen.

Exhaustion washed over me, and I let out a weary sigh as I observed the magnitude of the work still ahead. I had been scrubbing the floor for what felt like an eternity, yet the paint seemed to cling stubbornly to the surface, refusing to yield to my efforts.

Once I was certain that Vienna had left the room, I gingerly set down the brush and allowed myself a moment’s slumber.

Leaning against the cool wall, I could feel the ache radiating through my arm, the throbbing pain in my legs, and the strain in my back. The toll of physical exertion was unmistakable.

“You do know that Vienna would strangle you if she caught you were resting,” Maria’s voice suddenly broke the silence, causing me to startle.

“God, you gave me quite a scare,” I gasped, my hand instinctively pressing against my chest to calm the racing beat of my heart.

Maria couldn’t help but chuckle as she settled down beside me, a brief break from the demanding world we were trapped in.

Maria, though a relatively recent addition to the service of the Crescents compared to my family’s long-standing tenure, had quickly become my closest companion. Perhaps it was our similar ages or the shared fate we endured under the tyranny of Vienna Crescent.

While my parents had dedicated their lives to serving the Alpha, Remus Crescent, my father as his butler, and my mother as his personal maid, they had never been shown an ounce of gratitude or respect by the man they served faithfully.

Resting my head upon Maria’s shoulder, I couldn’t help but voice my frustration. “What do you think drives Vienna’s relentless determination to make my life a living hell?”

“Jealousy,” Maria replied with a hint of amusement in her voice.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at her response. “Yes, of course. Who wouldn’t envy my ragged clothing, extraordinary talent for scrubbing floors, and oh-so-fashionable vintage worn-out shoes?” I playfully wiggled my toes for emphasis.

A sudden shift in Maria’s tone caught me off guard, and I stopped laughing. It was a rare occasion when she spoke seriously. “Because you’re more beautiful than her,” she uttered, her voice devoid of jest.

I paused, struck by the sincerity in her words. “Can we return to you teasing me, please? It’s much more comfortable,” I said, attempting to lighten the mood.

We both burst into laughter, knowing that Maria’s teasing stemmed from a place of affection rather than malice.

Unlike Vienna, who found joy in my misery, Maria used teasing as a means of expressing her fondness for me. Through these playful interactions, we found comfort and formed a unique bond.

“Scrub the floor, you silly girl,” Maria mockingly imitated Vienna’s voice, her gestures mirroring those of our tormentor.

She even exaggeratedly flipped her hair in the same manner as Vienna, and the sight elicited genuine laughter from me.

“Shoo, off you go back to the garden,” I playfully retorted, dismissing Maria with a wave of my hand.

She made an exaggeratedly indignant face and dramatically flipped her hair once again, eliciting another giggle from me. The sight of my own reflection dancing upon the wet, soapy floor only served to heighten my delight.

Throughout my life, many have expressed their fondness for what they perceived as my beauty. Their compliments, though kind, never truly resonated with me. I would often respond with gratitude or return the sentiment with a compliment of my own. However, it never occurred to me to take their words to heart.

Nevertheless, Maria’s notion that Vienna was envious of me struck me as utterly absurd.

I couldn’t fathom why Maria had abandoned her rationality to entertain such an idea. While Vienna and I stood at the same height, her figure possessed a maturity emphasised by her graceful curves, while I remained petite. We both had long brown hair, but mine flowed in waves at the ends, while hers remained impeccably straight, lending her a sophisticated air. Her eyes shimmered hazel, contrasting with the emerald green I inherited from my mother. Though I possessed a fair complexion, Vienna’s skin resembled the purest white paper.

Apart from these distinctions, we shared many similar features—pointed noses, pouty lips, and freckles that emerged only under the sun’s gentle caress.

It was this uncanny resemblance that may have fueled her disdain for me. At first glance, one might mistake us for sisters. However, being compared to a servant, even fleetingly, must be the ultimate insult for Vienna, the sole daughter, and heiress of the MoonStone pack.

After what felt like an eternity of scrubbing, I sought ease in the mansion’s garden, my sanctuary. Amongst the vibrant flora and towering trees, I found tranquillity unmatched by any other corner of the estate.

A sight caught my attention as I strolled amidst the natural beauty, soaking in the fragrance of blossoms and the songs of chirping birds. Maria, engaged in a battle for her life against a horde of dead flowers, fought bravely with a broom. Though I couldn’t help but be amused by her predicament, a twinge of sympathy tugged at my heart.

Upon discovering Maria’s sensitivity to flowers, Vienna wasted no time, assigning her the gruelling task of tending to the garden.

Maria, desperate for some leniency, mustered the courage to request mercy, but Vienna’s desires always prevailed.

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