The Moon Goddess’s Cruel Match

Elizabeth’s POV

A bastard pup. That was all I was. All I would ever be.

Alpha had granted me life—my newborn existence in his hands, only a few breaths old and still slick with my mother’s fluids. He decided my fate. He gave me the gift of life. Yet his mercy had come laced with cruelty.

I was permitted to breathe, but my mother and I were instantly branded outcasts. From that moment on, we were shunned. Throughout our lives, we bear the mark of exile, forced to live on the outskirts and watch the tightly knit pack—our family—relish their unity, their shared warmth… yet never allowing us within their circle.

Torment. I could find no better word to describe being cast out, especially for a creature as fiercely social as a wolf. We thrived on the bond between one another—on kinship, camaraderie, belonging. But not me. All my life, I’d known only loneliness. It consumed me like a festering wound, gnawing me from the inside out.

I would forever pay for the sins of my father—wherever, or whoever he was. My mother refused even to speak his name. Then she died when I was ten years old. I was alone now, entirely abandoned.

At seventeen, most girls in the pack spent their days dreaming of the future—their future mates. They gathered with friends, dressed for celebrations, cast shy glances at the eligible unmated males, their hearts fluttering at the thought: “Could he be the one the Moon has chosen for me?” This was their only worry in the world.

I had no friends, no dreams beyond survival. Friendship had always been forbidden. Alpha warned that anyone foolish enough to side with me would endure his wrath. None dared risk it. My misery extended far beyond my solitude: Alpha made it clear that the Moon bestowed the gift of love only on actual wolves—not on abominations like me. I was denied a mate. Denied love. Denied hope.

Yet I clung to one slender thread of hope: every night, I prayed that tomorrow would be the day I shifted for the first time. The day my own wolf would emerge. Finally, I would not be entirely alone. A wolf would claim me as her own; she would love me. And even though a wolf was no mere skin companion, she would be mine.

A trickle of fear curled down my spine. What if I never shifted? What if I wasn’t a real wolf at all? Alpha had laughed at me more than once, ridiculing the idea that the Moon might punish a wolf by making her live inside my body. My heart had broken at his scorn. I brushed away the tears sliding down my cheeks. I knew I wasn’t worthy of a mate, but I refused to believe the Moon hated me so fiercely that I would be denied a single wolf. I forced that painful doubt back into the dark recesses of my broken heart. I had work to do—no time for self-pity.

I was responsible for cleaning the packhouse suites—thirty in total. On a rotating schedule, I cleaned ten each day so that every suite saw me twice a week. I had once cleaned only five per day, but after I graduated high school a year early, Alpha doubled my workload—kept me busy, he said, and prevented laziness. No other wolf toiled ten to twelve hours a day, six days a week. Perhaps it didn’t matter. I had nothing else to do, no one to see.

I grimaced as I approached the next door: Alpha’s suite—my least favorite. I rapped firmly, ensuring anyone inside could hear me. No answer. I knocked again, louder. Still nothing. I did not want a repeat of last month’s nightmare.

Last month, I’d thought my cautious knocking would alert anyone—particularly a wolf with supernatural hearing—to my presence. When no one answered, I’d used my keys to let myself in, only to find Alpha naked, pounding into a she-wolf bent over his bed. Her breasts jiggled with each relentless thrust. She moaned, eyes closed in ecstasy. I froze, horrified to realize I stood ten feet away, forced to watch. Alpha snapped his head toward me. I braced for punishment. Instead, he smiled knowingly, never slowing. He reveled in my discomfort. Mortified, I scrambled backward and slammed the door, stammering, “I’m sorry!” His laughter chased me down the hall. He’d planned it that way—knew exactly when I’d arrive. He enjoyed tormenting me.

Now, heart pounding, I drew in a steadying breath and rapped a third time, waiting. Silence. I turned the key, cracked the door open, and peeked in. Empty. Relief washed over me as I entered.

I tackled the bed sheets first. Alpha’s linens were always stained with various bodily fluids: his and the revolving parade of she-wolves’. It made my stomach churn. Why would any woman want such a vile creature? But his power drew them, and our pack had no Luna—she’d died before I was born. Each hopeful she-wolf believed she might become the one he chose to stand at his side. Yet over the years, he’d chosen none. He preferred to use them for his pleasure and then cast them aside.

I cringed as I gathered the soiled sheet, its stench overpowering. I recognized Alpha’s scent anywhere—he left his mark on every woman. I tied the linen into a laundry bag, fighting back a gag. Even unshifted, my senses were sharper than a human’s; the odor assaulted me. I clamped my mouth shut and breathed through my nose to dull the nausea. Sealing the bag, I dumped it outside the door and remade the bed with fresh sheets. Satisfied, I moved into the bathroom and scrubbed every surface until it gleamed—Alpha would find no fault in my work.

Three more hours passed. At 6 PM, I finally finished. I’d begun at 5 AM. My feet throbbed as I trudged back to the tiny shack I shared with Chloe. She was an embittered old wolf, convinced she despised me as much as Alpha did. My stomach growled in protest. My daily rations were barely enough to survive, and I was hungry as always.

I opened the refrigerator, grabbed my allotted meal, and devoured it. Still unsatisfied, I rose from the table and headed for the bathroom. I didn’t feel well—more unwell than usual. My skin was hot, beaded with a thin sheen of sweat. I stared at my reflection. My olive complexion was pale; my ribs and hip bones jutted sharply beneath stretched skin. My emerald-green eyes looked too large for my gaunt face. Perhaps I had a fever.

I sighed and turned on the shower. Though mended by threadbare clothing, I took pride in my cleanliness. I scrubbed away the grime of the day, then dressed in the worn garments I’d carefully folded on the counter. There was no one to impress, and most pack members pretended I didn’t exist.

After the shower, I sank onto our small cot—more lumpy cot than bed. My muscles ached. I stared at the ceiling’s cracked paint, imagining fresh color. In truth, the entire two-bedroom shack needed work, though I doubt Alpha or anyone else would lift a finger to improve it.

I tossed and turned for an hour, sleep eluding me. Finally, I gave up. I dressed in yoga pants, a T-shirt, and a sweater, then slipped into the woods. The trails were second nature—my childhood companions. I even named the trees and pretended they were my friends.

I ran about a mile, but the churning anxiety in my gut only deepened. My body heated until sweat glimmered on my skin. I stopped, bent over, gasping, and leaned against a broad oak. Wolves seldom fell sick, but something felt wrong.

Then a startling thought struck me: Could this be it? Could my wolf finally be coming? My heart pounded. I slipped off my pants and stepped out of them, then shed my sweater, shirt, and even my bra, my hands trembling so badly I almost dropped them. Last, I shrugged out of my underwear and stood naked in the forest, vulnerable and terrified. The thought of discovery mortified me. I had no family to help me through this rite of passage—just the memory of bullies, children and adults alike, who had delighted in my suffering.

I knelt, clutching the earth as a strange, pressurized pain blossomed inside my skull. It wasn’t mere pain—more like something else pressing in: another consciousness forcing its way into my mind. The sensation was equal parts exhilarating and terrifying.

Hope soared. I did have a wolf!

And she was coming now!

Then agony shattered my elation. I dropped to my knees, teeth gritted, as bones, muscles, tendons cracked and reshaped beneath my skin. The pain was indescribable. My entire body threatened to give out.

I bit back a scream. It wasn’t safe. I couldn’t risk anyone finding me like this. I had survived torment all my life, but this… Who knew what strangers might do to me in this state? I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself against the onslaught, determined to endure, to prove that even a bastard pup could claim her place in the pack.