The sun shining through my window wakes me up, and I peek my eyes open to meet the morning. The bed I am laying in feels amazing and so unbelievably comfortable. The sheets around me feel softer than silk and I want to wrap myself in them like a caterpillar in its cocoon.

My silken day dreams are broken by the sound of footsteps outside the door and the knob rattling.

I lift the covers over my head, not nearly ready to face him today. Or ever.

"Oh don't worry Miss, he's out of the wing."

I sit up quickly and see a surprisingly-pretty older woman shuffling into my room, a cart with breakfast in tow. My eyes follow her as she stops next to the bed, lifting a wooden tray piled with toast and juice and fruit. It look absolutely perfect.

Her silver hair is wrapped high in a bun, and the wrinkles on her face are slight and smooth. She was no doubt beautiful as a young woman.

"Thank you." I smile at the lady, who gives me a soft smile back. Am I dreaming? This woman is far too nice to be in the Blood Moon pack.

"What's your name?" I ask, sipping on the delicious orange juice she gives me.

"I'm Phoebe, dear. And you, of course, are Alessandra. Octavius was telling me a bit about his beautiful mate." She winks at me and giggles to herself. I perk up at his name, but at the same time, the pit in my stomach grows.

"A bit of advice, dear." Phoebe coos. "Don't be too quick to judge Octavius. He's more soft than he seems."

"Thank you, Phoebe." I give her another smile, which she returns.

"Oh, Miss," She turns and pulls out a garment bag from the cart. "This was left for you. You are to meet Octavius in the west wing after you've finished getting ready." And with another small smile, she shuffles away once again.

I finish the beautiful breakfast and reach for the garment bag, which contains a pair of simple jeans and a long sleeved white blouse. I am relieved when I see a bra and underwear as well, and I pray that Octavius wasn't the one who picked them out.

Yawning, I drag myself out of the bed, and immediately have to pull at the boxers around my waist. God he has broad hips. I stumble over to the bathroom, the garment bag in tow. I lug it onto the counter, and brace myself on the cold tile.

Oh crap.

My long brown hair is frizzed to the root, the result of me forgetting to braid it the night before. I have frizzy hair like my mother, but she taught me at a young age, that if I braid it after I shower, the next morning my hair would be smooth and wavy. But this morning, it looks like a cloud of horse hair. I huff, strands of fuzz billowing out in front of me.

I decide to just throw my hair up into a bun, happy that Phoebe had placed a bin of hair ties in the drawer. Once the tendrils are out of my face, I zip open the garment bag once again and throw on the clothes, finding they fit perfectly, especially the undergarments. Now I really hope that Octavius wasn't the one to choose them.

I give myself one last look, and walk out my door, met with the silence of the wing.

Thank god, Octavius is already at work. I walk out the front door of the wing, realizing I have no idea where I am going.

I begin to wander down the halls, making random turns, finding each new hall empty save for a few guards chatting in the corners. I eventually come to a large pair of important looking double doors, the scent of cinnamon wafting around it.

God I'm good. I smirk slightly at my tiny victory. I push open the large doors and enter an office that is so...Octavius.

Everything is dark and rich, like everything he owns, with large and filled ceiling-high bookshelves. The carpet is a dark green and gold, with ornate designs in a material that looks so soft and rich.

I am so mesmerized by the room, I don't notice Octavius' presence until the sound of a throat clearing shocks me from my daze. I look up to see him standing behind his desk, his hands gripping the back of the chair. When is this boy not gripping something.

"You, um" I start, looking down at my hands and shifting nervously from foot to foot. "You asked me to come?"

"Yes," he clears his throat again, "Please sit down."

I walk over to his desk, setting myself down in a plush, black leather chair. I still can't look at him, in a tight t-shirt that hugged every perfect muscle tightly. Just like I wanted to.

Snap out of it, Sandra!

"Octavius, what is it?" I ask, finally looking up at his beautiful face.

He doesn't meet my gaze, but he clenches his jaw slightly as he peers down at the file on his desk. It is labeled, "Moonrise Pack" in large, red letters. I gulp and wait patiently for his response.

"My pack," He coughs slightly, "Our pack, has been increased greatly in size due to the um, addition, of Moonrise. But this is not the issue." He seems confused, as he shuffles through the papers in the pile, his hands practically shaking as he pulls the papers out of the file.

"Octavius!" I snap, and he looks up at me, and for the first time I see bags under his eyes, and he looks so so tired.

"Sorry, um." he leans back in his chair, and runs his hands through his curly dark hair roughly. I shiver, and clasp my hands together, trying to keep them where they are and away from him.

"What." I prod, the silence so uncomfortable I feel as if I'm about to explode.

He sighs, and looks at me with a blank expression.

"Due to the recent overpopulation of the pack, we are going to need to," He cuts off, struggling for words. This anticipation is about to make me implode and-

"We are going to need to send the new soldiers away from the pack lands, and place them at posts in enemy territory." He finishes, and exhales heavily.

His words take a few minutes to register in my whirling mind, and once they do, fire boils in my eyes.

"You mean" I say, my voice raising dangerously, "That you want to send eleven year olds to the most dangerous territories?!" I am on my feet now, throwing my hands in the air.

"Alessandra," He starts to interrupt me.

"Oh, no mister." I snip, too angry and shocked to stop now. "You just told me, that you want to send children across the border, alone, and risk their deaths?" I am facing him now, my hands open to the sides, my eyes wide.

Octavius says nothing, his face devoid of emotion or reaction.

His voice is irritatingly nonchalant when he replies simply, "Yes."

I wait for an "and", a "but", even a "so". But there is nothing. He just settles back into his chair, reorganizing the papers on his desk.

I am too stunned to speak, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"Why?!" I finally shriek, my voice shrill and harsh causing him to visibly cringe.

"Lower your tone, Alessandra." He growls, beginning to lift himself from his chair. "I will not be spoken to in that manner."

"Well, you're about to 'be spoken to in that manner'." I mock, flapping my hands like a lame duck. I stop my pacing, turning to face him, and glare. "You just told me you wanted to basically murder half my pack. You know what will happen to them in enemy territory. They are not soldiers, they are not toy army men who you can just manipulate at will!" I resume my pacing, burning a hole in the rug with my bare feet.

"With the proper training they will be our pack's soldiers." He growls again, his voice low and commanding.

"They're still children, Octavius!" I am fully shouting now, not caring if the guards, the maids, or even the moon goddess hears my cries. I cannot believe his words, his plans.

"Blood Moon's children have done far worse at half their ages." I can practically hear the grinding of his jaw, attempting to control his wolf and his temper.

"Well these people, my people, are not Blood Moon! They are Moonrise and will always be Moonrise no matter how many people you slaughter, how many pups you take, or how many tears you cause! I will always be Moonrise." I stop a few feet in front of him, my hands in fists at my side, no longer a child in tantrum. I am a woman defending her pack. I am a Luna, defending my pack.

"How many times do I have to say this until you accept it? Your 'people' are Blood Moon now, those soldiers are Blood Moon, and you are the Luna of Blood Moon. Those people are mine, those soldiers are mine, you are mine." I freeze. Silence fills the air following his last proclamation.

"Well," I straighten my spine, tightening my fists, "I am not to be owned by anyone, least of all you. And my people aren't either. I will not allow you to do this to my people." My voice is steady and strong.

"You won't allow me to go through with my policy?" He scoffs, smirking as he shakes his head. "And how are you going to stop me?" His eyes and words send his challenge clearly, and I swallow, taking a deep breath to prepare for what I am about to say.

"If you do not call off this awful plan," I state. "I will reject you, as my mate."