The Unloved Luna

I help her carefully leave the bed and place the crutches under her arms. She's stable when I stand back and let her carry her weight but falls when she tries to walk with the crutches. I'm holding her body and keeping it from collapsing. "You okay?" she asks, nodding.

I carry her bridal gown out of the hospital, one arm beneath her knees and the other supporting her back. "Whose shirt is this?" she wonders, fiddling with the hem.

"It's mine," I say. The physicians gave me the option of dressing Charisse in a revealing hospital gown or one of my shirts; the decision seemed simple. She doesn't object to being in my arms and rests her head on my chest.

I pull the seat belt over Charisse in my black 2015 Chevrolet Camaro and try to fix it so it isn't choking her. "This is a copy of all of your information," I tell her as I hand her the stack of documents. She is completely focused on it for the entire twenty-minute vehicle ride.

"So you're saying I have a big brother?"

"Yes."

"Who-Who is he?" she asks, her voice stuttering as if she hadn't spoken in a while.

"That's Brad; he was in the room earlier."

"Does he have a rank in the pack?" she wonders, knowing that only someone of high rank would enter Alpha's mate's room.

"He's both my Beta and my best friend."

"We're right here," I say as I enter my driveway. I don't spend time opening the door for Charisse and carrying her bridal gown again.

She exhales, finally feeling the sparks when the numbing drug wears off. "Do you mind sharing a room with me?" Or do you prefer to remain on your own?" I request that the front door be opened.

My house isn't a mansion, but it's also not a little dwelling. It contains six bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a pool in the backyard. "I get to stay in a room?" she asks, her eyes are bright.

"Of course, where else would you sleep?" says the narrator.

"Alpha, l-let me stay in the attic if I were g-good." They did not force her to stay in the attic. She speaks to her old pack as if she were merely an object or a pet. That means there could have been a worse place for my friend to live.

"So, is it my room or a different room?"

"It doesn't matter," she says quietly, her hands on her lap. It's my room.

I'm relieved I'll be sharing a room with my flatmate. Sharing a bed is unlikely to happen nowadays, but it is understandable. My wolf and I are both enraged that one of our pack members tried to take advantage of her, and we wish he could have died more terribly.

A whimper jolts me out of my reverie. She has curled herself into a ball and is hiding her head. What occurred?

'You were growling,' sneers my wolf.

Charisse's POV

I brace myself, expecting someone to whack me; a growl always meant I was about to get smacked. 'Mate won't hurt us,' my wolf promises.

I'm not at all at ease. Xavier Ryan is known to be harsh and violent, which makes me very nervous.

It's a lot to take in, especially since I've finally discovered who I am and have a brother. Alpha James claimed that my family sold me to him as a pack enslaved person.

My recollection becomes blank when I try to recall anything before age nine. There are also some memory gaps between the ages of ten and however old I am today. 'Seventeen,' says my wolf. When she says that, I almost smile; I've never known my age or anything other than my name.

"Are you all right, baby?" I apologize for growling." Xavier expresses regret. When someone else speaks it, the word sorry seems strange.

"I'm perfectly fine," I say. He sits on his bed beside me, his hand on my waist.

"Are you hungry?" That was the first time anyone had ever asked me that question. 'Make me food' or 'I bet you're hungry' has always been the response.

I shake my head and gently decline him. "Sandwich or pasta?" he inquires.

"I'm not in the mood for h-hungry."

He suggests, "I could make you a turkey sandwich." Is it possible that I'm talking out loud or that I'm not opening my mouth?

"I'm not hungry," I repeat, slowing my speech so I don't stutter.

Xavier furrows his brows and examines my petite frame. He inquires, "When was the last time you ate?"

"Summertime," I mumble about not knowing what month it is. I haven't gotten any food or drink since the summer; it's now autumn.

I can tell Xavier is clenching his fist to avoid breaking things. He presses me on him and inhales my scent deeply.

I try not to move because I'm frightened of what he'll do to me if I do. Hitting, slapping, or perhaps worse.

'Mate won't do that,' says my wolf.

'How did you find out?' I inquire of her. She is the only one with whom I can open up.

His grip on me is tightening as he shakes with wrath. They would have bruised significantly more without the brace around my ribs. I try to get closer to his chest while avoiding his arms.

"X-Xavier, you're hurting me." I let out a breath. I press my face against his hard chest when I feel his claws elongate.

As I repeat my words one more time, my breathing becomes labored. "Xavier, please let me go." This time he hears me.

The pressure is immediately relieved from my torso, and I stare up at Xavier. "Oh, goddess!" I'm genuinely sorry, darling."

"Does it hurt?" he inquires, clearly concerned.

For what seems like the hundredth time today, I shake my head.

"I'm so sorry," he says again, "I swear I didn't mean to hurt you." I move out of his lap and take a seat across from him.

"You have a nice soft bed." I'm talking about feeling the cotton cloth. Alpha James' bed isn't this comfortable; I never got to sleep on it, but I did touch it while cleaning his mansion.

Xavier says, "I'm glad you like it."

"Why don't you shower, and I'll make us some food?" he suggests. He turns around and gets some bags to cover my cast with.

It doesn't take me long to put them on. Another anecdote is figuring out how to operate his nice shower with one hand and one foot. (She has a shattered wrist, a fractured left leg, and a broken ankle.)