Chains of the Moon

I was never meant to want more than survival. Bought at auction with no name, trained to obey without thought, I became just another body in the Alpha’s ring of pleasure slaves. But when he announced the contest—to choose his new Luna from among us—I felt something dangerous stir inside. The others see glory in winning him. I only see blood. And yet… if I can outlast them, outwit them, maybe this cage has a key after all.

Chains of the Moon

I was never meant to want more than survival. Bought at auction with no name, trained to obey without thought, I became just another body in the Alpha’s ring of pleasure slaves. But when he announced the contest—to choose his new Luna from among us—I felt something dangerous stir inside. The others see glory in winning him. I only see blood. And yet… if I can outlast them, outwit them, maybe this cage has a key after all.

I stand on the auction block, naked, wrists bound behind my back.

“Look at her!” the seller cries. His voice cuts through the market like a whip. “Obedient! Submissive! A master’s dream. Skin like silk, breasts full and soft, waist slender, hips made for the bed!”

The crowd roars with laughter and hunger. Bidders lean forward, eyes crawling over my body. One reaches to pinch my arm. I do not flinch. Stillness is survival.

Then—silence.

A voice, low and commanding, cuts through the noise.

“I’ll take her.”

The mob parts like water breaking around stone.

The Alpha steps forward. Broad shoulders. Scarred jaw. Eyes the color of broken amber glass. The air bends around him—men lower their gazes, women hold their breath. He does not ask the price. He does not bargain.

He tosses silver at the seller, seizes my chain, and yanks me off the block. His grip is iron, biting into my flesh. I stumble barefoot across the stones, dragged in his shadow, unable to lift my head.

Selune Spire looms ahead, a fortress carved from black stone, its towers lost in mist. Inside, torches spit smoke against marble walls. The Alpha does not slow. He hauls me into the great hall, then slams me hard against the wall.

“You belong to me now,” he says, voice steady as death. “You eat when I allow it. You sleep when I permit it. You open your legs when I demand it. Refuse me once, and you die. Do you understand?”

I choke down fear and nod.

He studies me, head tilted. “You’re quiet.”

“Yes, Master,” I whisper.

A pause. Then his lips twist in a cruel smirk. “Good. The last girl was too loud.”

My pulse stutters. Girl?

He lets me go. Two guards appear, shadows at his command.

“Take her to the Undercroft. With the others.”

I’m dragged down stone steps, deeper and deeper, until the air turns cold and damp. Torches fade to embers. Chains rattle in the dark.

At last, we enter a chamber lit by dim fire. Ten women stand in neat rows. All strong-bodied. All beautiful. All branded at the hip with a crescent scar.

One near the front sneers. “Another pet. He’s collecting them faster now.”

Another’s voice is a hiss. “She looks weak. She won’t last a moon.”

Their eyes crawl over me, stripping me bare once more. But it is not contempt I see—it is hunger. Hunger for him.

I lower my gaze, silent.