Lost Luna: Alpha's Precious Possession

Chapter 1: Dinner Party



I press my cold hand against my throbbing forehead and move my silver eyes down as if this little gesture would secure me from the intense scrutiny of others. 

The dinner party at our pack's house has been in full swing for hours now but I still feel like a fish thrown out of the water. In fact, no matter how many times I attend such events, I can't get used to them. I am not meant to be here. Yet I am, surrounded by all the luxury that only higher wolves can get. 

I carefully shift my eyes around the vast dining hall, making sure that my gaze does not linger or accidentally pause on anyone in particular. 

I don't know the majority of these people. All of them are men. 

Today, we are celebrating a major political deal between the alphas of neighboring packs. That explains why only the male members of both packs are present here tonight. 

To my right, several male betas are seated on leather couches, smoking cigars and downing whiskey, glass after glass like plain water. One of them has a female omega maid positioned on his lap, his big, calloused hand is slowly moving up and down her lifted skirt, his thick fingers running over the smooth skin between her thighs. 

His companions are focused on the lively discussion they are having but from time to time, they throw quick glances at her exposed skin, their eyes glistening with predatory hunger. 

It's a normal thing for the Dark Wood Pack––Alpha Dion knows what the men want and he uses this knowledge to his advantage. 

I hear another maid squick and snap my head in her direction, my silver eyes narrowing as I take in the view. A gamma warrior is playfully slapping her on the butt as she is trying to wriggle her way away from him, the large round tray trembling in her nervous hands. 

She is forcing a flirtatious smile but I can see how fake it is. 

Then, I turn my head to my right and my heart sinks for just a moment. My Alpha, Dion Windthorne, is sitting in the furthest corner of the hall, yet another omega girl is sitting next to his feet, her arms resting on his knees. 

Dion is gorgeous. Tall and powerful, tonight he looks especially good in his dark blue pants and a white dress shirt sticking from underneath his loose vest. 

White is definitely his color. So is silver. It complements his slightly tanned skin and the way he always leaves several buttons unbuttoned draws everyone's attention to his strong neck and collarbones. 

When he moves his torso, the shirt moves too, revealing that line between his chest muscles that makes every woman's hands itch to unbutton that shirt even more. 

Even though he is already in his thirties, the vigor he possesses flows inside his veins like scorching lava. 

I sigh and take a sip from a champagne flute that has been in my hands for so long, the alcohol has gone flat and warm now. But I don't notice and finish it in one big gulp. 

I am jealous. It should have been me at his feet. 

Lifting the empty flute back to my lips in an attempt to mask my curiosity, I discretely shift my eyes to the man sitting next to my Alpha. Something deep in my chest snaps and I feel a swarm of insects crawl at the bottom of my stomach. 

Alpha Robert Arcanis of the Golden Lake Pack. 

Just looking at him sends an unpleasant shiver down my spine. He is despicable. 

No, he is not ugly or fat, nor does he have some disgusting skin abnormalities that make you cringe as you imagine how you'd feel touching them. 

It is his presence alone that makes me feel so shifty and weird. 

He is not a good man. He is a known abuser who treats female wolves like dirt. Just like Alpha Dion, Robert accepts multiple mates, no matter their status or rank. But unlike Alpha Dion, he treats them more like his personal sex slaves rather than his lovers. 

It's ironic. Lately, the male wolves have been reporting an alarmingly low rate of mating possibilities. I have heard Dion talk about it once––in the past few years, it has become strangely hard for wolves to find their mates so many started resorting to getting chosen mates instead. 

One would think that such an unfortunate occurrence would prompt them to treasure each female wolf, but in reality, it's closer to being the opposite of that. 

Dion is no saint too, of course, mostly because his lawful Luna Katarine, his wife and chosen mate, does not let him have his way. 

It's normal, I get it. After all, I am jealous too. 

Nevertheless, Dion has accepted two more mates apart from her, and one of them is me. 

And despite all my flaws, I am his favorite. 

The moment Robert's dark brown eyes shift on me, I flinch and look away, shrinking into myself like I always do when someone looks at me with this much curiosity. 

I get it, he likes the way I look. I fascinate him. And this is another reason why he makes me sick. 

Here in the Dark Woods Pack, I am a freak. My hair is gray with a subtle blue shimmer one can only see under the bright sun or moonlight. My eyes have a distinct silver color, and Dion likes to say that they sparkle like two bright stars. But the biggest "flaw" I have is my scars. 

Mapping my skin like long rivulets, my body is carved with long white lines that stretch all over my back, stomach, and limbs. I can easily hide them under my clothes, but everyone knows that they're there. 

And sometimes, when I am particularly angry or scared, they start shimmering with a subtle silver glow as if they are indeed small rivers reflecting the distant moonlight. 

I don't know why I look like this. No one seems to know. Dion keeps telling me that I am special, but I know that I am not. I am just an orphaned omega who can't even shift. No matter how fascinating I might look, I am a nobody. 

But it's simply the sick combination of curiosity and greed that makes men desire me. After all, I am Alpha Dion's favorite. No one can have me. No one but him. 

My ears pick up bits of the ongoing conversation between two alphas. I can't hear anything specific but judging from the piercing glares Robert keeps throwing in my direction, I know that they are talking about me. 

I don't like it. I don't like being talked about. 

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the room changes at once as the large double door swings open, and a pair of loud heels stomps inside, snapping everyone's attention in the direction of their owner. 

I do that too and instantly feel my whole body shrinking again. 

Katarine. 


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