A LUNA'S CRAVING FOR LOVE

Charlotte

I woke up with a start and looked around me. I was sleeping on a bed, not some old, tattered mattress for the first time.

The bed was so big that Davina and Loretta, the two maids who were supposed to look after me, lay stretched out on it. Most people would feel sleepy, but I did not.

Instinctively, I opened the door quietly, expecting it to creak, but it didn't. It was a silent door. I padded out of my room, glancing at the two maids lying on my bed.

"Ma'am, we can't lie on your bed," Loretta, a short girl of about seventeen, had whispered when I asked them to join me.

"You can," I nodded toward her. "And I'm not 'ma'am,' I'm Charlotte."

"The Alpha will not be happy with us if he hears us calling you that," Davina, the other maid, gasped. It was as though I was disturbing them.

I shrugged. "Then don't call me that in his presence." I jumped on the bed, giggling. After Sarah's bed, this was the most comfortable one I'd ever laid on.

"What if he somehow finds out?" Loretta hurriedly asked, glancing at Davina.

"Are you going to tell him, Davina?" I asked, lying comfortably on the bed.

The hallway was lit with lamps, and beside the lamps were different paintings. We had such paintings at home; they signified family members.

I stopped before a painting, staring at it longer than necessary. It was of a man with long flowing hair. He had pure red eyes that screamed evil. I shuddered and turned away as I kept going.

I reached the edge of the staircase and peered down. I smiled to myself, imagining sitting on the stairs and sliding down. At home, I was never allowed to go near the stairs. I'd only been up once since my mom refused to raise me and left me with the downstairs maids.

I tiptoed down the stairs, remembering the first and only time I had climbed the Blackwood Pack House stairs.

"Come with me, Charlotte; nothing will happen." Sarah dragged my hand toward the steps. I tried to wriggle free, but she was much stronger than I was.

"No, Sarah. I don't want Papa to see me up there. You know how he gets when I do something he doesn't like."

"You're not doing anything wrong," she turned sharply toward me. "What's wrong is that my sister has never seen what my room looks like." She resumed dragging me up the stairs.

I let her drag me, protesting but silently relishing the thought that I would finally see what was up there. My parents and most of the pack members living with us had visited a neighboring pack, so no one could stop me from exploring.

"Wow," I exclaimed when I glanced down the hallway. An elegant red carpet ran across the doorways of each room. On the walls were paintings.

"How do you like the place?" Sarah asked, releasing my hand and staring at my face.

"It's nice. You live here?" I sheepishly pointed toward a room.

"You haven't even seen my room." She held my hand again, drawing me closer to the door. "This is just the foyer; Papa likes to sit here and read the human paper."

"Human paper?" I narrowed my eyes, darting them from the foyer to Sarah.

"Oh, mine." She touched her chest. "You've never heard of the human paper? They document everything they do. Papa thinks it's interesting."

"And you?" I asked, noting the way she said "Papa" instead of "I."

"It's boring," she said flatly, withdrawing from the foyer.

"Come, let me show you my room." Sarah held my hand and dragged me toward a door, pushing it open forcefully. I winced, expecting it to creak and make a disgusting noise, but it didn't.

When I reached the steps of the Trinity Pack House, I saw another set of paintings. I recognized one of them. It was Frederick, sitting majestically on a horse. I felt jealous, remembering that Sarah was also a good horsewoman, while I couldn't even saddle a horse.

"Hmmm." I heard a sound behind me and turned sharply to look around the room. Everything was silent except for the crackling fireplace.

"Probably just thinking," I thought, walking toward a door that led to a hallway.

"How am I supposed to find the kitchen?" I heard the sound again and sprang backward, my eyes wide open.

"Anybody there?" I asked, and silence greeted me.

I could feel eyes peering at me again, like at the river. Then I heard his voice.

"What are you doing, Charlotte?" He emerged from the shadows, where he must have been observing me.

I hesitated, feeling a flutter in my chest. Was he going to scold me? Yell at me? Or flog me? "I was looking for the kitchen. And the laundry room. I like to get a head start on my duties in the house."

"What?" His expression turned incredulous.

"I'm looking for...," I started to repeat myself, but he cut me off mid-sentence.

"I heard you the first time," he said, raising his hands. "You think you need to do chores here?" He arched an eyebrow.

"Don't I?" I asked, using one foot to scratch the other.

"Just go to your room," he waved me off. "It's past midnight. Goodness, you must have been so traumatized at home." He turned to look at me as if for the last time.

"But at least I should..." I protested.

"Charlotte, you're not in your father's house anymore," he said flatly. "If you love that place so much, I can ask Thomas to take you there when the day breaks."

And with that, he stormed off.