Shes Mine To Claim Tasting And Claiming His Luna

Amara woke up with a start, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn't shake off the feeling of dread that consumed her.

Something was wrong. She tried to calm her racing thoughts and focus on her surroundings.  The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of moonlight seeping through the curtains.

She could make out the shapes of furniture and the familiar scent of her mates in the air.

 “ Mates!. “

That word sent a shiver down her spine. Amara was trapped in a forced mating with the ruthless High Beast Lord Amoux.

Despite not loving her, Amoux relied on Amara to use her powerful healing magic to care for his pack and lands.  The memory of their mating ceremony anniversary struck like a knife to Amara's heart.

A year had passed since she had been claimed by Amoux, and she still felt no connection or affection towards him.  

A sudden pain shot through Amara's chest, causing her to gasp. It was as if someone had stabbed her right in the heart. She clutched at her chest, panic rising within her.

 Amoux stirred beside her, his sharp golden eyes meeting hers in concern. "What's wrong?" he growled.

"Cymone," Amara whispered, fear coursing through every fiber of her being. Cymone, Amoux's intended true mate, had returned to the pack after years away, pregnant with Amoux's heir.

The news had devastated Amara, but she had kept quiet about it, burying her own pain deep inside. But now, something was happening to Cymone. On this night of all nights.

Before she could say anything else, a commotion erupted outside their chambers - urgent voices and paws padding against stone floors.  cursed under his breath and climbed out of bed.

 He threw on a robe and stormed towards the door, yanking it open without hesitation. Amara followed close behind. In the dimly lit hallway, pack members scurried about, their expressions filled with worry and panic.

Amoux's mother, the Blood Lady Zmeya, stood at the center of it all, her piercing gaze sweeping over the chaos.

"What's going on?" Amoux demanded, his voice rumbling with authority. Zmeya turned to face her son, her expression grave.

"It's Cymone," she said. "She's been in a carriage accident." Amara's breath caught in her throat. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not when everything was already so fragile.

"Can't you heal her?" Amoux asked sharply, turning his gaze to Amara. Fear gripped Amara's heart as she met his intense eyes.

She knew what he was thinking - that she could use her healing magic to save Cymone. But little did he know that doing so could drain Amara of her powers and lifeforce permanently. "Amara," Amoux growled impatiently.

"I'm waiting." Reluctantly, Amara nodded. She had no choice but to try and save Cymone, no matter the cost to herself.

They rushed down the corridors of the packhouse to where Cymone lay motionless on a makeshift bed. The scent of blood hung heavy in the air, mixing with dirt and sweat.

Amara knelt beside Cymone and placed a trembling hand on her swollen belly. She closed her eyes and focused on tapping into her healing magic. Energy surged through her veins like liquid fire as she channeled it towards Cymone's broken body.

The wounds began to mend slowly, but with each passing moment, Amara felt a piece of herself being drained away. Hours passed in a blur as Amara fought desperately to keep both Cymone and herself alive.

She could hear the steady heartbeat of the unborn child beneath her hand, a small flicker of hope in the darkness. Finally, she pulled away, her body trembling with exhaustion.