Chapter 4 of From Submissive Zeta to Ruthless Luna

Elara Thornfield

The voice on the other end of the line was heavy, thick with absolute dominance. Even though he did not speak for three agonizing seconds, my Zeta wolf cowered, a violent shiver running up my spine.

I froze, pulling the screen away from my ear to look at the glowing runes.

When I saw Alpha Ronan Blackridge’s name shining on the crystal interface, I wanted to dig a hole and crawl into the earth.

I cleared my throat instantly, slipping right back into my submissive lower-caste posture. "Forgive me, Alpha Ronan."

"Return to Alpha Command," Ronan snapped, his voice rough as iron before the connection cut out.

Watching the screen go dark, I bit my lip until I tasted copper, silently mourning the end of my recovery day.

I rushed back inside the Ashbourne Pack quarters to change my clothes, but I did not forget to drop a roasted venison leg on the table for Willow.

Willow frowned the second I stepped through the entry arch. "Did the Treasury have a line clear out to the outer boundary?"

I panted, pulling off my casual tunic. "Alpha Ronan summoned me back to the Blackridge Alpha Fortress. I left your meal on the table."

I hurried into my chamber, pulling on my structured black Zeta armor suit. Alpha Ronan demanded perfection from every Blackridge Pack Official, and showing up in loose robes was grounds for a public lashing.

As I tied my hair back, Willow yelled from the outer room, her voice dripping with rage.

"Alpha Ronan is completely out of line! You spent a whole month traveling through hostile pack territories for the Blackridge Alpha Dominion. Why is he taking away your rest cycle? I am going to petition Beta Kieran to move you to the Ashbourne Patrol Unit!"

"I am not strong enough to be a patrol warrior, Willow," I called back, rushing out the door.

It was a ten-minute run from the lower-caste quarters to the fortress keep. Living in the shared pack house saved me precious silver coins, even if it meant being at the Alpha Command’s beck and call every hour of the day.

I ran until my lungs burned, throwing open the heavy oak doors of Alpha Command.

Alpha Ronan stood by the high stone archway looking out over Moonhaven Ridge. The afternoon sunlight caught his massive, five-foot-eight muscular frame, painting his dark skin in broad strokes of shadow and gold. A unlit cigarette sat firmly between his lips.

"Alpha Ronan," I panted, dropping my gaze to his boots. "How may I serve Alpha Command?"

Ronan turned slowly, his lethal black eyes locking onto mine with a weight that made my knees tremble. Because of the secret I carried in my body, every look he gave me felt like an execution sentence.

"Fetch the Seaward Territory pact scroll," Ronan ordered, his tone flat.

I blinked in confusion. "The pact scroll, Alpha? But Beta Kieran handles all territorial legalities."

"Did I ask for Beta Kieran, Zeta?" he growled, the Alpha aura rolling off him in suffocating waves.

"No, Alpha. Right away," I stammered, turning on my heel and rushing down to the pack archive.

I retrieved the heavy parchment and brought it back to his heavy oak desk. Alpha Ronan took a dark ink quill, made swift alterations across the animal skin, and tossed it back toward my chest.

"Transcribe these changes into the official pack record," he commanded.

"Yes, Alpha."

I took the scroll to my side desk and began rewriting the territorial boundaries. Just as I dipped my quill, my phone vibrated with a message from Willow, asking if I would be finished in time to purchase herbs at the moon-market.

I typed back quickly: Editing the Seaward treaty now. Give me thirty minutes.

It was a simple transcription task. Thirty minutes was more than enough.

Yet, when I presented the fresh scroll to Ronan, he barely glanced at it before dragging his quill across three more sections. "Redo it."

I swallowed my frustration, took the ruined scroll back, and rewrote the entire text from scratch. He rejected it again. Then again.

My fingers ached, and my four-foot-five body throbbed with exhaustion. Two hours passed in agonizing silence, broken only by the scrape of metal on parchment.

Finally, Ronan rolled the latest version shut. "That will suffice for today."

I took the scroll carefully, my heart beating fast. "Shall I deliver this to the Seaward Elders for signing before sunset?"

If he said yes, my whole evening would be spent riding hard across the border.

Ronan reached into his coat, pulling out a small silver lighter. "The Seaward Elders do not arrive until the next full moon."

My jaw tightened. He did not need the scroll for two weeks, yet he had summoned me from my quarters and forced me to rewrite the same parchment four times. But I knew better than to question an Alpha.

"Is there anything else, Alpha Ronan?" I asked softly, keeping my face completely blank.

Snap.

The blue flame illuminated his sharp jawline as he lit the cigarette held between his fingers. The bitter scent of burning tobacco and raw male cedarwood filled the tight space between us, instantly triggering a sharp pulse of heat deep inside my wet core. My wolf stirred, remembering the way that same scent covered my skin while he pinned my wrists above my head.

"Who were you expecting when you answered my call earlier, Elara?" Ronan asked, his deep voice slicing through the silence like a blade.

I froze. "What?"

"You yelled into the device," Ronan drawled, stepping around the desk until his massive frame towered directly over my small stature. "You told me to use my time looking for a duty post."

My face burned with intense humiliation. "I... I thought it was my half-brother, Alpha. I did not check the runes before speaking."

Ronan leaned down, the heat of his body radiating against my cold skin as smoke drifted between our lips.

"Female Zetas serving in Alpha Command are forbidden from taking mates before their twenty-fifth winter," Ronan growled, his hand coming up to grip my jaw, his thumb pressing possessively into my skin. "It is pack law."

I had never heard of such a law in the Blackridge Alpha Dominion. But with his thick fingers bruising my chin and his dark eyes burning into mine, I could barely draw breath.

"I have no mate, Alpha Ronan," I choked out, my heart pounding violently against my ribs. "I am not courting anyone, nor will I ever mate."

The oppressive Alpha pressure in the room eased slightly, though his thumb lingered on my jaw, tracing the sensitive curve of my throat before letting go.

Before I could step back, Beta Kieran slammed the door to Alpha Command open, holding a stained piece of cloth in his leather-gloved hand.

"Alpha," Kieran reported, his voice tight. "The maidens stripping the bedding in the Summit Lodge found this tucked inside the mattress frame. It carries the blood of a Zeta female."