The Unclaimed Luna

MAXINE.

I'm in a party full of Werewolves, and I am nothing but a mere Human.

The thought keeps echoing in my head as I clutch the can of beer tighter in my hand. Neon lights are flashing in the dim hallway as I swerve out of sight, narrowly avoiding a gaggle of Werewolf girls. The music playing in the background seems to be echoing through the walls, bouncing off the marble floor and the fancy high ceiling of this mansion I have never been to in my entire life.

Yes, that's right. I'm in a stranger's house. I don't know who's throwing the party. I don't know what the party is for. All I know is that my best friend Livia dragged me from my bedroom in the middle of the night, saying that we had somewhere to go. After an hour-long drive, here we are.

Or at least, here I am. Livia is currently nowhere to be found.

A house full of Werewolf teens, and the only other human I know of is not here.

I'm going to lose my mind if I don't find her quickly.

I crane my neck and look around. I'm about to burst into the living room to see if Livia is there, but my path is blocked by another group of Werewolf girls. Like the one I passed earlier, they seem to be rather out of it, swaying in their spots and giggling. There's at least six of them, and I doubt I could pass by unnoticed, so I plaster myself against the wall, right behind a marble statue.

"... he is turning twenty-one," one of them is saying, which confirms that it is indeed some dude's birthday party that Livia decided we should crash. "That means he has to find his mate soon. Lucky girl."

"It might be one of us," another one of them pipes up, eliciting a loud round of cackles. "But I know that if his mate is one of us, then it has to be you, Yelena."

Mate. I scoff. Whatever that means. It irks me that these Werewolves have some sort of culture of their own while comfortably erasing ours.

One century ago, America was invaded. After our country barely scraped a win in the war against other nations, Werewolves started to show up in droves in the mainland. No one knew where they were from. No one even knew they really existed. But they made their purpose known almost immediately. They took over the government and started to divide the states, and now they control our law, our media, and our lives.

The East and West Coasts are now their homes. No Human lives there. Every big city is occupied, closed off from the rest of us Humans like we didn't build everything before they came along. We're forced into silence, into fear, because one wrong move can set them off. They're known to be vicious, merciless.

Apart from the Werewolf guards at the borders, there shouldn't be any mutts in the Midwest. But I'm wrong, because this party is in Kansas City, my hometown, and I'm in a mansion full of beasts.

The one they referred to as Yelena, a very pretty tall blonde, steps up and asks her friends, "I won't disagree with that, but has anyone actually seen him?"

Her friends shake their heads, and a silent understanding seems to pass through them. They start to make their way to the hallway I'm hiding in.

Panic hits me like a punch in the gut. Suddenly it occurs to me that I was eavesdropping on a bunch of girls, and if they see me-see what I am-I'm going to be dead. Cursing Livia and her mess, I look around and see a partially open door at the end of the hallway.

Fuck this. I should just hide and call her.

I make a break for it and swerve in just in time, flicking on the lights and breathing a sigh of relief when I see that it's an empty study.

I plop my lukewarm beer onto the table, scrambling to find my phone in my pocket to call Livia. When I find her, I swear to god I'm going to kill-

"Hey there."

I freeze in my spot. A scream is stuck in my throat. I turn around to find the source of the voice. I'm not alone after all.

There's a boy in the room.

A Werewolf boy.

Immediately, I lower my head so he doesn't see my eyes. It would be a dead giveaway if he sees my blue eyes since all Werewolves have varying shades of golden irises. Not to mention, I'm way too small and skinny to fit the Werewolf standard. I casually run my hand over my brown hair, trying to make my bangs sit lower against my eyebrows.

The boy laughs. "It's alright. You don't need to be shy. Mind if I stay here with you? It's the full moon, and as you probably already know, our folks are high on moonflower."

Full moon. Drugged up Werewolves. Screw me. My luck just keeps getting worse and worse.

"I don't dabble with that sort of stuff," he continues. "And I assume you also don't. So I believe we're good here. As long as you don't mind me being here, of course."

"I don't," I say after a pause.

He thinks I'm one of his kind, so I might as well play that to my advantage. I just have to be thankful that I haven't been devoured by these monsters yet, which is something not every Human can be grateful for.

It's the full moon, after all. The peak season of Human disappearances and deaths at the hands of these Werewolves.

If I'm not careful, I might end up as a statistic. Livia and I would be nothing but numbers.

That is if Livia isn't already one.

The dark thought nearly sends me into a spiral. I take a deep breath to calm my heart, resting against the table as casually as I can appear to be.

"Thank you for letting me stay," the boy says.

I tilt my head and steal a glance as he sits on one of the leather couches.

He's wearing a peculiar all-black suit, which compliments his tanned skin and dark hair. Even though I'm not looking at him directly, I can still make out his features. The angle of his jaw, the perfect arch of his nose, his wavy hair is slicked back with a couple of curled strands falling neatly against his forehead. He looks like a star in one of those black-and-white movies that Livia likes to watch, except for the shape and the color of his eyes. Sharp and alert. Bright gold. Almost yellow. Predatory....

"So what's your name?" he suddenly asks, making me flinch and turn my back on him again. "I assume you're a student at the University too? I admit I have never really seen you."

"I'm... Max," I say, cursing myself. I make up a fake name and it's just a contraction of my real name? Idiot. "Yeah, I also go to the University. Maybe you're just not looking well enough."

"Touche." He lets out a short laugh. "What pack are you from? I'm from the Cavaliere Pack."

Oh, now I'm really screwed. What does he mean by pack? What is he talking about?

"Um...." I trail off. "Same pack as you."

"Huh." The boy rises from his seat and starts to walk closer to me. "I will definitely know if you're in my pack or not, seeing that I'm the Alpha Heir. What's your pack?"

His footsteps seem to reverberate on the carpeted floor. My breath is stuck in my throat. I want to laugh and play it off, but I was never one to bluff. This is my first time being this close to a Werewolf and my brain is about to short-circuit. I quickly step closer to the exit, but it's too late.

The boy is now in front of me.

I lower my head, edging closer to the door. He props his leg over my foot to stop me.

"Who are you?" he asks, and everything in his tone changes. One moment ago, he sounded friendly. Even normal. Now, he sounds like he's seconds away from tearing off my face. "Look at me. Show me who you are."

"I think someone is calling me," I mumble lamely, leaping over his foot to race to the door.

My chest is swelling with nerves. I don't know if it's the beer or the moonflower fumes hanging in the air, but I suddenly feel woozy. Maybe it's just pure fear pumping in my veins. Whatever it is, I try to push it aside, pumping more power into my legs as I get closer.

But just when I think I have it, the boy grabs the back of my collar and pulls me back.

I keep my head low, but he just shoves his hand under my chin and makes me look up at him. My eyes are watering but it's not from the dull pain in my throat. My back is slick with sweat. I'm shaking all over. He, on the other hand, is as steady as ever as he forces me to face him. I try to push his hand away but he holds on tight, grabbing my jaw and holding it steady so I have nowhere else to look at but his face.

And I have no choice but to let him take a good look at me.

He grins, and the first thing I note is how peculiarly sharp his canines are. But his smile drops into thin air when his eyes meet mine.

The temperature in the room seems to plummet. His grip on me tightens, and suddenly there's no air left in the room for me to breathe as he speaks again.

"You're Human."

"I-I'm so sorry," I whisper. Tears start to leak down my cheeks. "I didn't mean to-please let me go. I will do anything. Please-"

"You infiltrated my home." The boy's smile drops from his lips, replaced by a sneer. "What makes you think I will let you go?"