TWISTED MATES

The Blood Moon packhouse was in total ruin, filled with dirt and countless chores to be done. The previous night, the pack had thrown a lavish party for the Alpha's beloved son, Dante. Every wolf and human in the pack was allowed to attend, except for the 'lucky girl' whose life the 'merciful' Alpha Hero had spared years ago.

"Hurry up, you piece of trash!" the future Luna of the Blood Moon pack roared at Freya.

Ever since Freya was spared as a child fourteen years ago, her life had been nothing short of hell. In fact, "hell" was too mild a word to describe her experience.

When Freya was first discovered, Alpha Hero had ordered her execution. Already weak and unable to defend herself, she had passed out, and those surrounding her believed she was dead. Left behind to die while unconscious, Freya later woke to find that she could neither remember what had transpired nor speak. Instead of killing her, Dante had come up with the 'smart suggestion' to bring her home and turn her into one of their slaves, as they needed more.

While subjected to the most degrading and humiliating tasks by the Blood Moon pack, Freya had clung to the hope of freedom. That hope alone had been her driving force.

Freya owned just four pairs of clothes, three of which were mostly rags. She was fed poorly and treated like an animal, yet she was still the most beautiful girl in the entire pack. This beauty drew envy from all the other girls, for in the entire kingdom, Freya was the prettiest, most well-mannered, kind, compassionate, truthful, and loving. Despite her good qualities, they did not earn her any favors or affection from the other kids or their parents. In addition to being of Omega lineage, her beauty made her an abomination in the eyes of the pack. Many asked, "How can someone be so beautiful?"

With no hope of ever having what the other kids had—loving parents, fun experiences, good clothes, delicious food, and care—she held on to her dreams of freedom.

Her Amazonian figure sat perfectly on her body. She had a decanter-shaped waist, and her complexion was an impeccable ochreous hue. Her full, honey-dark eyebrows eased down gently to her black, beetle-leg eyelashes. A sculptor could not have fashioned her seraph's ears and pixie's nose any better.

When she smiled, her beguiling, oyster-white teeth lit up the room, jolting those around her like an electric current when her megawatt smile gave them her full attention. Her long, smooth fingernails, filed to perfection, ran through her auburn hair, which spooled around her photogenic face and hid her elegant, swan-like neck. Her nebulous, glistening-blue eyes sparkled with life and hope, like two blue diamond jewels melted onto the snow. Her calamine-pink lips, plump and fresh like rose petals, added to the rumor that she was a goddess in the body of a girl.

Freya ran at full speed to Ariel, standing with her eyes fixed on the floor, panting. She wore a blue, worn-out, and oversized gown, with wounds around her head and throat. Her bare feet were covered in bruises that had turned into purple scars.

"You pig!" Ariel smacked Freya across the face. "How could you let me wake up to all this dirt? Now I'm going to have a bad day," she whined.

Alpha Hero's late Luna, Dante's mother, had been handpicked by his father—at least, that was the lie they told the pack. Hero followed suit, choosing Ariel, the young daughter and only child of the Pure Crescent pack. By birth, Ariel was destined to take over her pack once her father died, but marriage meant that Dante would rule both packs.

Ariel was a cruel and disrespectful sixteen-year-old girl with long white hair, green eyes, and undeniable beauty. She was one of the lucky few selected by Alpha Hero to be the future Luna of Dante. The entire pack was waiting for her eighteenth birthday, when the official bonding of souls ceremony would be carried out between Ariel and Dante. Because of this, she was treated like a queen, and everything she did was overlooked.

Although Ariel was a year younger than Freya, who was seventeen, she failed to acknowledge that Freya was a human being like her, especially since neither of their wolves had revealed themselves yet. Among the packs, females had to turn eighteen before their wolves would reveal themselves.

Ariel had woken up early to go hiking with her other privileged friends and had decided to make poor Freya's day miserable before she left.

The party held last night had gone unwitnessed by Freya, nor did she eat any of the sumptuous meals prepared. Yet, she was left to clean the entire mess. Freya wasn’t even allowed to eat from the same pot as the other kids. She had to wait until they were satisfied, and the leftovers were tossed into the trash. She would then scavenge for whatever scraps she could find, which became her meal. Despite this, Freya still ate happily out of the bins and tried to stay as invisible as possible until the Golden Rule of the Blood Moon pack, which held her freedom, took place once she turned eighteen.

Every day, she counted the days, minutes, and seconds in her head, subtracting from how many more days she had left until she earned her freedom.

Freya held her cheek where Ariel had smacked her, suppressing the tears threatening to escape. Most of the time, she desperately wanted to beat the crap out of the rude, spoiled girl that was Ariel, but she couldn't. If such a thought was even discovered to exist in her mind, it would be an excellent excuse to have her head chopped off. All the Alpha was waiting for was one mistake from her—just one tiny mistake. Freya had made it her life mission to avoid making any mistakes until she was freed. If her calculation was right, she had three more weeks, two days, five hours, twenty minutes, and seven seconds before she turned eighteen, the age of her freedom.

"I’m sorry, I was still cleaning the Alpha’s mansion," she said quietly.

"You must be stupid! You only spent so long at the Alpha’s mansion so you could get a good look at my husband."

Ariel began to circle Freya like a predator stalking its prey. "Well, too bad. He has eyes for no one else but me. Now get to cleaning this place. I’ll deal with you later."

"Yes—" Freya left the response hanging.

Glaring at her, Ariel demanded, "Yes, what?"

"Yes, Luna."

"Better."

Ariel still had two more years before she could be coronated as the Luna, but she liked to parade herself as if she already held the title. Anyone who failed to address her as Luna would be severely punished.

Freya ran off to gather her cleaning supplies from the Alpha's mansion and returned to the packhouse to carry out Ariel’s orders. Hopefully, the Alpha and his son wouldn’t wake up until she was done cleaning the packhouse and could return to the mansion. Otherwise, today might just be her death day.

As if the day itself was against Freya, Dante woke up just as she started cleaning the packhouse. Every morning, before anyone else even thought of opening their eyes, Freya would scramble out of her bed—nothing more than pieces of rags and worn-out sheets discarded by the others. She would gather whatever they had thrown away, selecting anything she could still use.

Before anyone else was awake, Freya would rush to the packhouse to bathe. She dared not use the facilities made for the others, or she would be beaten and locked up. Freya was instructed to use the convenience made for the ‘Tahilas.’ The Tahilas were people who had committed one offense or another and were awaiting execution. They were the only ones who saw Freya as a person with flesh and blood like them. She befriended them and, when not running errands, spent as much time as she could with them before they were executed. Whenever she learned of their death, she would run deep into the woods and wail bitterly, mourning the loss of a friend.

After her quick shower, Freya would put on one of her rags and begin the day’s chores. From cleaning to cooking to running all manner of errands, Freya would attend to them until her body could hardly keep up.

Dante Ian, the Alpha’s only son and future Alpha of the Blood Moon pack, had risen from his bed in all his glory. Dante wasn’t an unattractive boy for his age. He had inherited his father’s striking features. The previous night had been his induction into the twenty-one-year cycle, and the big party left poor Freya cleaning everywhere. Since his wolf had revealed itself, some adjustments had been made to his appearance. First, his hair was cut low, and he had grown taller, now standing at 6’4”. He had a trim build, not overly muscular, with golden curls often stretched to give a sleek texture that fell over his bright blue eyes. A straight nose and strong jawline completed his look. He was among the lucky few whose wolf revealed itself immediately after he turned eighteen—a true son of his father, as Alpha Hero would always brag.

Dante had the physical features every girl in the pack lusted after, but his character was terrible. Dante hadn’t always been egocentric, annoying, power-hungry, and merciless. To impress his father, who didn’t want to see any sign of weakness in the future Alpha, Dante became this way. Unfortunately, the one person who suffered most from his abuse of power was Freya. He made sure that her childhood was filled with ugly memories of being bullied. Over time, he grew worse, losing all traces of love or compassion.

Humming the melodic tune that was the only thing she remembered from her childhood, Freya mopped the floor of the packhouse absentmindedly. Suddenly, she collided with a hard figure behind her, causing her to jolt forward and accidentally kick over the bucket she was using to clean.

Whirling around, she saw who it was. “Dante,” she bowed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were there. Forgive my carelessness,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut and praying desperately that Dante wasn’t in the mood to punish her.

Furious, Dante heaved a heavy sigh and rubbed his temple. “Get me breakfast,” he ordered, stomping away without a second glance at Freya.

If only Freya could shout out in joy, she would have. What had happened to Dante? Did he wake up on the right side of the bed? Or did something uplifting happen? It was so unlike him to let her off the hook so easily. Whatever the reason for his unexpected ‘kind pardon,’ Freya was grateful.

Now Freya was torn between three duties: making breakfast, cleaning the packhouse, and cleaning the Alpha’s mansion. Which was the most important? If she didn’t make breakfast within the next minute, she might double her punishment and wouldn’t be feeling so lucky anymore. Secondly, if she wasn’t back to cleaning the Alpha’s house soon, Alpha Hero would shred her to pieces if he saw any unfinished chores there. Lastly, she needed to be in the packhouse before Ariel returned, or it would be an entirely different episode of taunting and whining in Freya’s ears all day long.

Making her decision, Freya chose to fix breakfast, finish up cleaning the packhouse, and then return to cleaning the Alpha’s mansion, in that order. “A few weeks left, Freya. Just a few weeks left,” she kept repeating in her head.

What annoyed Freya the most was that when she initially arrived, the responsibilities were delegated, especially at the Alpha’s mansion. There were no maids; everyone was equal. But once she came, the Alpha decided to make her the Alpha’s house personal maid. Who was he kidding? She didn’t just become the Alpha’s house personal maid; she became the maid of anyone who cared to use her. Freya couldn’t complain. Who was she going to complain to?

Taking a few refreshing breaths, Freya walked to the Alpha’s mansion and headed straight to the kitchen to make breakfast. On the menu were pancakes, cheese, and fresh fruit juice. Easy-peasy. She should be in and out of there without anyone noticing and back to her chores.

Tirelessly working in the kitchen, she was able to finish quickly, cleaning up immediately so that she would only have the dishes left to wash. Although she made breakfast, she was never allowed to eat it. Whatever she ate was the leftovers from everyone else’s meals, discarded after they had their fill.

Staring at the plates of breakfast she had set up on the table, Freya counted them again, making sure no one was left out. When she confirmed everything was in order, she noticed there were still two pancakes left in the frying pan. Freya was so tempted to smuggle them out and eat them in privacy.

She drooled over the two pieces. “Don’t do it, Freya,” her conscience pricked her. She knew that entertaining such thoughts was a bad idea and would land her in serious trouble.

Staring at the pancakes once more, she moved to the kitchen window and surveyed the area. No one was watching. She checked the door—no one was there. Heaving a huge sigh of relief, she carefully took out two napkins and wrapped the pancakes, hiding them in the pocket of her oversized gown. No one would suspect they were even there. Good.

It wasn’t the missing pancakes that might have given her away but her body language. She was trembling and looking pale, like someone who had just seen a ghost. She tried to calm herself down and regain control over her behavior. Just as she took her last steadying breath, Dante strolled into the kitchen.

Seeing him, she bowed. “Breakfast is ready,” she mumbled, hurrying to leave.

“Where do you think you’re going? Where is my coffee?”

“Coffee?” she asked, surprised. Ever since she started working in the house, Dante had been caffeine intolerant, avoiding coffee and energy drinks. But she wouldn’t dream of questioning the change in order.

Straight away, without hesitation, she began fumbling with the things to make the coffee, her hands shaking.

“Stop!” Dante commanded. “What did you do?”

She didn’t respond. Instead, she stopped what she was doing and bowed her head.

“Don’t forget that I’ve turned. My wolf senses are stronger than my human ones, and I can hear your heartbeat hammering like crazy in your chest. You’re guilty of something. Tell me now, and I might spare you.”

Shit! She had forgotten about that. Dumb her. Dante could sense, hear, see, and feel a hundred times better than any other wolf. He was the strongest. It had slipped her mind that there was no way she could have gotten out of there without being caught by Dante unless he hadn’t been around.

“Did you just become deaf and dumb? Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Freya’s palms became sweaty, and a lone bead of sweat trickled down the side of her forehead. Should she tell him? Or wait for him to discover it? Whichever way, her punishment wasn’t going to be mild. The only thing she could plead for was for Dante to take matters into his own hands and not report her to Alpha Hero, his father.