The Black Luna

ARYA

Two weeks later, Arya stared out of the window of one of her family’s large SUVs as they made the caravan north to the Black Mountains for Brooke’s mating ceremony.

She watched as the scenery changed before her, leaving behind the warm plains and forests that she had been raised in.

The sky got darker as they drove deeper into the Black Mountains. The air felt heavy, as if each day out here was just about survival.

“You sure you want to live in this place?” she asked Brooke, staring out the window at the darkening sky. Brooke’s only response was a low growl.

“That’s the last snide comment you will make for the rest of this week,” Blair snapped, turning around from the front seat with a glare.

“Yes, Mother,” Arya said quietly.

She stared out the window again, watching as the dark mountains drew closer and closer. She felt as if the cheerfulness was swallowed up out here along with the sunshine, leaving only shadow and dread.

***

Hours later, Arya stared up with awe as the group stepped out of their cars.

“It’s a literal castle…,” she muttered, shaking her head at the excited squeals coming from her sister.

“Welcome to Black Mountain Pack,” said a golden-haired, serious-faced man who must be Beta James, stepping from the grand front entrance as the family walked toward the castle in awe.

While the others chatted with Beta James about wedding logistics, Arya wandered a few steps off for a better view, taking in every stone and column.

It was nothing like the tales she had heard about the Black Castle. The stones were not made of shadow, and the house was not halfway rotted and mangled as if being swallowed by death.

The stones in the walls were smooth, marbled in shades of gray and cream. Overall, the effect was as if the building had jumped out of a storybook.

“It’s grand, isn’t it?” came a voice, making Arya jump.

Arya turned to see a young lady standing beside her. The woman had long, flowing, auburn hair and bright eyes; freckles speckled her pale skin. “Yes, yes, it is,” Arya replied quietly.

“This is the best place in the world to live,” the other woman said with a smile.

“Really?” Arya questioned. “I’ve heard it’s absolutely miserable.”

The woman laughed, apparently surprised at Arya’s frankness. “Well, I was born and raised here, so I guess I’m used to it. People from down south probably can’t stand the cold like we can.”

Arya shivered at the words, suddenly noticing the chill in the air. “It is cold here…,” she said softly.

“You get used to it.” The woman smiled. “It’s just because we’re so far north; the cold season is longer and more brutal than in the south.”

Arya scoffed. “But it’s only September!”

“We still have a few warm days left, but the cold is closing in.” The woman winked.

Arya looked back up at the castle. The tall columns and arches, the masonry and towers. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“You mean all pack houses don’t come with their own moat?” the woman teased.

“None that I’ve ever seen.” Arya stared up at the castle again. “Are the things they say about the Black King true? That he’s hideous and covered in scars? That he’s cruel enough to rip your heart out without a blink?”

The woman laughed before offering her hand. “I guess I should introduce myself. I’m Millicent, Milli for short. The king is my brother.”

“Oh,” Arya gasped, giving an awkward bow. “I’m sorry, Princess. I didn’t know.”

“That’s all right. I’m not as worried about the formalities as everyone else is. And don’t worry, my brother’s not as scary as everyone says.

“Granted, I’ve known him my whole life, so I’m used to him. Though I’d never wish to be on his bad side.” Milli shrugged. “Now, what’s your name?”

“Arya.”

“Nice to meet you, Arya.” She gave a sly wink before walking off around the back of the castle, leaving Arya standing alone.

She looked around, realizing her family had all gone inside without her. Crap. She ran up the grand front steps, pushed through the large, heavy wooden and wrought-iron door, and rushed in, almost crashing into her sister as she fumbled her way inside.

“Can you be any more embarrassing?” Brooke muttered, elbowing Arya hard in the ribs.

Arya scrunched her nose at Brooke before looking up at the large, grand foyer. “Whoa…,” she whispered, her mind unable to focus on just one thing as she took in her surroundings.

The intricately painted ceilings and gold-foiled trimmings, the grand crystal chandeliers, the deep, warm woods, and rich velvet furnishings. Arya could easily spend the rest of the day wandering around the castle staring at just the walls.

Beta James led the family through the castle, showing them each to their assigned rooms. Alpha Elon and Blair were in a room neighboring the queen-to-be, and they headed inside without so much as a glance backward at Arya.

Arya’s room was at the end of the very long guest hallway, and as soon as Beta James opened the door for her, her mind went blank.

“I’ll leave you to get settled,” said Beta James with a perfunctory bow, and left to show the other pack representatives to their rooms.

She walked in, her eyes wide as she gawked at the luxurious room. It was covered from floor to ceiling in deep reds and creams, the walls a dark gray, the massive four-poster bed made of dark, heavy mahogany.

The air was somber, heavier than she was used to. But there was no denying the opulence. She ran her hand along the bedclothes, the red satin soft against her fingertips.

Then she looked out the window, her jaw dropping as she saw beautiful gardens climbing all the way up the mountain. She quickly grabbed her things and wandered off, winding through the castle till she found her way to the outer grounds.

She wandered around the perimeter of the gardens via a long, covered stone walkway, taking in the view. She couldn’t believe this was the Black Castle. Everything she had ever heard about this place was wrong.

Looking out at the seemingly never-ending rows of flowers and plants, the garden appeared bright and happy against the dark of the mountain. For the first time, Arya envied her sister for getting to live here.

She walked for a long time, pausing every once in a while to scribble in her sketchbook. The walkway ended in a beautiful stone gazebo with marble benches and large stone arches, surrounded by a never-ending sea of wildflowers.

Arya immediately knew this would be her favorite place on the castle grounds.

She sat down, opened her sketchbook, and started doodling, never once suspecting that someone might be watching her.

***

“Who are you?”

Arya’s eyes snapped up to see a large man standing before her, mostly a shadow outlined against the setting sun. “Oh!” she gasped. “I’m sorry; I thought I was alone. I’m Arya.”

She looked around, realizing there was nobody else around and the sun was beginning to sink dangerously low toward the horizon. “Where did you come from?”

“I’ve been here a while,” he grumbled.

“And you didn’t say anything till now? That’s…not weird at all,” she replied as she set down her things. She crossed her arms over her chest, self-conscious under his gaze.

She stood from her seat and changed angles to get a better look at him. He was handsome: at least a head taller than her, muscular, square-jawed and intense. And his eyes…

As she met his crystal-blue eyes, she suddenly forgot how to breathe. It felt as if all the air around her was sucked away, leaving the world in a spin.

After a moment she took a deep breath, her mind whirling as the intoxicating scent of oak filled her senses. Her mind clouded at the smell, her whole body suddenly both tingly and burning.

She was still reeling when the man lunged forward, gripping her arms to press her against the cold stone wall of the gazebo. He stared down at her darkly, his shadowed eyes roaming her face before finally lingering on her lips.

“Why do I want you?” he whispered, his voice husky.

She stared up at him, feeling lost in the blue of his eyes, wanting to melt into them. “I don’t know…,” she whispered back as if in a trance.

He took a deep breath and released her arms, instead pressing his palms against the wall to cage her in.

His muscles flexed with each breath; it was obvious he was struggling to keep his control, to keep from falling on her mouth like a starving man. Arya wished he would.

She slowly raised her hand, trying and failing to resist the urge to touch his face. As she brushed her hand along his cheek, the stubble on his face tickled her fingers, sending flames through her body.

The stranger growled, low.

In an instant, he crushed his lips to hers, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her body close to his.

Arya moaned into the kiss, giving in to the strange new passion building inside her. Her arms tangled around his neck and her hands knotted into his short, black hair.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. She watched, dazed from the kiss, as he rushed away, leaving her in a stupor.

She touched her fingers to her lips, wondering who the stranger was and wondering why she now craved the taste of his lips and the feel of his hands on her body.

After several dazed minutes, she walked distractedly back toward her room. “I don’t know what that was, but it was incredible!” Dawn hollered in her mind, still on a high. She had been spinning in circles since the moment they laid eyes on him.

“Why do we want him so badly?” Arya asked aloud, breathless. “It’s like there’s this…”

“Pull?” Dawn said bluntly.

“Yeah…a pull. It’s like every part of me wants him…craves him…”

Arya walked through the door and collapsed on the bed, knowing she wouldn’t be able to do anything else after what just happened.

She closed her eyes, her mind flashing back to the moment the stranger had first wrapped his arms around her, gripping her waist tight as he pressed his lips to hers.

“I don’t even know who he was,” she whispered to herself. “What if I never see him again?”