The Alpha's Ballerina (#Wattys2016)

Preview: Luna's Salvation

Hey guys...it's been awhile. But I come bearing good news. I've published (and am actively working on) a new story called Luna's Salvation. Here is a preview of the story. If you like it, why not head on over there and give the whole story a go?

One

Aurora

You would be amazed about the things you grow used to after 15 years. Then again, I was lucky in a way. Everything had just been steadily going downhill to the point that when things got really bad I wasn't all that surprised.

After all, I was simply lucky to be alive.

I was only two when the Civil War started. Although it had been brewing for a few years before I was born.

My grandpa was the Alpha of my pack, and from what I've been told he was a good one. Ruthless to his enemies, but not hot headed. Only attacking when absolutely necessary. Kind and generous, but careful about being too trusting.

His health started failing about three years before I was born, and there was a big panic about who the next Alpha would be. Twins were rare amongst werewolves, but an Alpha producing twins was rarer. As my grandfather's health deteriorated more and more he started giving both my father and uncle the responsibilities of an Alpha in order to figure out who would lead the pack next.

That never happened though because my grandfather died before he could officially name an heir. The Goddess of the Moon would determine the next Alpha.

Everyone assumed it would be my father. He was born first, handled the responsibilities of an Alpha with grace, and didn't have my uncle's short fuse. But it was my uncle that the power shifted to. Needless to say, people weren't happy.

There was a 50/50 schism in the pack. Half the pack believed my father should have been the Alpha, and half sided with my uncle. Although from what I've heard a good chunk of people on my uncle's side only sided with him because they trusted the Goddess's decision above everything else.

For two years my parents led a resistance against my uncle after he started ruling through fear. It was looking like the tides were even turning in their favor too, until my uncle found them. His men broke into our house and overpowered my parents. I had to watch as my uncle killed them both, and then he found me.

I was only four so he knew that there was no way he could get away with killing me. So instead he took me with him. He held up my parent's bodies and used them to squash what was left of my parents' resistance.

In the end over a third of the entire pack had been killed in the Civil War. The people my parents were closest to and had some level of authority in the resistance were publicly executed. Fear of what my uncle would do to them and their families have kept everyone else who supported my father in line for the past 15 years. As for me, I was thrown into the attic of the pack house.

Things weren't always this bad for me. For a while I was treated as nothing but an annoyance. I was sent to school in the human town about 15 miles from the pack's border since my uncle decided he didn't want me taught by who he viewed as the competent teachers in the pack. Only occasionally being pushed around and out of the way.

As I got older things got progressively worse for me. Gradually the chores of the pack house were added onto my plate for when I was done with school work. I was expected to do laundry, scrub the floors, cook, do maintenance, you name it.

The older I got, the worse the punishment for failure got worse too. What once was the occasional push and shove, became daily beatings courtesy of my uncle or whoever he decided to let at me that day. The longest I had gone without getting some form of beating was a week when I was 15.

I always got the worst beating on the anniversary of the end of the war. My uncle would drag me out to be a fill in for my parents. They used to just throw fruit at me. I was 10 when they started punching me. This year's "celebration" for the 15th anniversary was the worst though.

My uncle dragged me out as usual and he tied my hands behind my back with wolfsbane laced ropes. He made those who supported my father, and them only, beat me to a pulp after whipping me. There was a look of sorrow and sadness as they carried it out.

Yes I screamed in pain, but I honestly didn't care on an emotional level. I guess that was the one perk of my uncle ramping things up over time. I haven't cared about much of anything for a long time. Even in school I really only cared about getting stuff done. Granted that led to me graduating top of my class, but even that didn't get me anything at home.

Every year a big party is held after graduation for the pack members who finished high school. The year I graduated I didn't get to participate. No, literally the morning after graduation I was beaten to a pulp and then had to set up and cook for the party that night. Ever since then I've just worked day in and day out for these people who make my life hell.

I was afforded one luxury though. No one had ever touched me in that way. My uncle held onto one aspect of my grandfather's tenure as Alpha, mated or unmated, no one was to touch a female sexually. For the mated females it was obvious why they weren't allowed to be touched as the males were a force to be reckoned with. For unmated females, the theory was you never know who they are mated to. Wars had been started by Alpha's because their Luna had been in a relationship with another wolf and they consensually hooked up.

Rarely did I let my mind wonder about the mate I knew was out there. Oh how I wanted him to find me and rip this pack to shreds when he found out what they did to me. I wanted him to take me away from here and give me the love and tenderness that I craved deep down inside. Once in a while I would close my eyes and just imagine what it would feel like to be held in his arms and have him whisper in my ear that everything would be alright. He would kiss my head as I drifted off to sleep and I would wake up still in his arms.

But then I remembered how merciful my uncle had been to me. Yes I was beaten to a pulp, but I also had access to food. I was given a place to sleep, even though I had to scrounge up the blankets to keep me warm. There were clothes on my back and I had been educated. It was more than others had. It was more than I ever deserved.

Because I am the daughter of traitors. I am weak. I am a coward who hid in a closet while my parents and pack were murdered. I am expendable and a waste of pack resources. I am useless.

I am nothing.