Moon Hunted Mate

Lyria rubbed her hands over her face and groaned. She had woken often through the night, her wolf too restless to let her sleep. Sunlight streamed through the high windows of the Moon Hunted dormitory.

Other women were already bustling about the room. They made their beds and donned their fighting leathers.

Lyria forced herself to roll out of the bed and walk to the bathroom. She didn’t have long to get ready before their first training session began.

The stone tiles of the floor were cool under her feet, and she soaked in the feeling. She leaned back against the cold stone wall of the dormitory’s bathroom as she brushed her teeth. As a werewolf, she always ran on the hotter side, and she reveled in the delicious feeling of cold stone on skin. The communal bathroom had already emptied out by the time she finished her morning routine.

Lyria jogged back to her bed, pulled her fighting leathers from the chest at its foot, and quickly dressed. She joined the others making their way through the hallway to the courtyard.

As they passed by the cafeteria, the smell of breakfast taunted the women to linger, but food wouldn’t be served until they completed their first morning workout.

Out in the courtyard, Gamma Traci watched as they all did their warmup stretches and laps before she split them into sparring teams. For the most part, the Gamma tended to group them by years, 18s, 19s, and 20s, but the fourth group was special and strictly monitored.

Lyria was part of this last group.

The group that would be hunted at the next full moon.

Chased through the arena by male werewolves.

Marked as a chosen mate.

This group was made up of all the women from the hunter packs who had reached their 21st birthday since the last Moon Hunt, as well as any older females who had joined from distant packs.

I don’t understand why any woman from outside the hunter packs would choose to enter the arena. Not knowing what kind of male might catch them.

“Lyria,” Gamma Traci shouted. “You’re with Natalie.”

Natalie smirked at her from across the square, as the rest of their group formed up around the edges to watch their match. The black haired she-wolf had liquid gold eyes in her perfect heart-shaped face and lean muscles which belied her strength. Her confidence was earned, as she was one of the best fighters in the dorm, but her personality was all haughty arrogance and expectation.

Natalie was Alpha-blooded, daughter of the Alpha King himself, and presumed to make a good match, even though she hadn’t found a fated mate in time.

Who would dare to claim the Princess, if they hadn’t earned the right?

Lyria was on the other end of the status pyramid. She had been abandoned at the gates of the Ironfang pack as a pup.Assumed to be the whelp of rogues, she was taken in by a young family with other pups. Although they loved her, Lyria never felt completely in sync with them, even before she found out they weren’t her birth family.

Wolves were born to be a part of a pack, but she had grown up feeling alone. This sense of isolation had only intensified when her adopted sister, Chloe, found her fated mate at the very first mate ball they attended. Chloe hadn’t even had time to move into the dormitory before she left Ironfang to join her mate Tyron in the Moonshadow pack.

For three years, Lyria had failed to find a mate at every ball, bonfire, and tournament she attended. There had been males who were interested in her, but none of them sparked a fated bond, and those who might have picked her as a chosen mate were easily dissuaded when they discovered her status.

Natalie lunged at her, striking out with a sliding kick meant to splay Lyria out flat while Natalie sailed past.

Shocked out of her reverie by the fierce opening, Lyria almost moved too slowly to dodge the attack. She felt Natalie’s ponytail whipping her in the side as the princess slid past.

Lyria pivoted on the ball of her foot and drove her elbow toward Natalie’s spine.

Natalie spun away before the strike could land, but Lyria caught her wrist and used the momentum to drag her off balance. For one breathless second, Natalie’s back was exposed.

Lyria could have taken her down. Instead, she released her.

Natalie recovered quickly, eyes flashing gold with fury.

They circled again.

When Gamma Traci finally called the match a draw, Natalie’s expression said she did not agree.

The sparring drills continued until everyone had completed at least three rounds before they were let go for breakfast.

Natalie and her posse led the way back down the hall to the cafeteria, with the rest of the she-wolves falling back in a line that was roughly delineated by rank. When she first arrived here at 18, Lyria had been relegated to the back of the line with the Omegas, but her skills in combat and strength had raised her to Gamma rank. These were the warriors of the werewolf community.

The smell of sweat-drenched wolves did nothing to dim their appetites, and the ladies piled their trays high. Although the tables weren’t assigned seating, packs inevitably sat together, with Ironfang pack and the royal Stormfrost pack taking the tables closest to the buffet while the rest of the hunter packs ranged behind them. The rare females from non-northern packs took the furthest tables, grouped more by age than pack or rank.

Even though she had been raised in the Ironfang pack, Lyria had never felt at home with them. She had immediately taken to sitting at the back tables with the she-wolves who felt just as out of place here as she did.

This was where she had made her friends. Some had already gone through their Moon Hunts and left to join new packs. A little more than a year ago, Rachelle had joined from the Crimson Claw, and they had instantly bonded.

It was especially rare for a she-wolf from a southern pack to join the Moon Hunt before the age of 21, but Rachelle had come when she was only 19.She had always hoped her childhood friend, Miklos, would be her mate, but that year Miklos had found his fated mate. Heartbroken, Rachelle had fled to Ironfang to train for the Moon Hunt.

Rachelle was several months younger than Lyria, so they would not be in the same hunt, but they had formed a bond Lyria had never felt with anyone else. Each of them felt something missing from their lives, and this shared void had brought them closer together.

“Hey, chosen sister,” Rachelle chirped, as Lyria sat down.

Rachelle was the daughter of her pack’s Beta. With her higher rank, she was always closer to the front of the line and had already sat down and annihilated a large portion of her plate before Lyria arrived. The exuberant redhead was half a foot shorter than Lyria, just barely over five feet tall, but she could easily eat her weight in food. She was one of the fastest runners and fighters in the dorm and her metabolism ran at an even higher speed than most werewolves.

Lyria kept pace with her appetite, but most of her calories went to supporting her more average height and muscled, but curvy figure. She could sustain her runs longer than any of the other females, but she lacked the sprinter’s speed Rachelle boasted. This meant that she spent a lot of her independent training time working on evasion tactics.

When Rachelle had finished eating, she settled back into her chair and recounted her sparring matches. While Lyria could barely remember much more than the opening move and results of her matches, Rachelle could recall each step of the attack and defense, as if they were lyrics to her favorite song.

With her tactical mind and Beta lineage, Lyria knew that Rachelle should earn a Zeta position within her new pack, as long as her mate’s position didn’t hold her back. As a Zeta, Rachelle would serve as a tactical advisor to her Alpha and hold a close rank to the Chief Gamma, who was in charge of all of the warriors.

Lyria’s best hope was to maintain a decent enough ranking to keep a Gamma position and work as a warrior or trainer within her pack. She knew she was strong enough to earn that position on her own, but, if she was reckless enough to be marked by an Omega, she had no hope of becoming more than a servant or caretaker.

“Hey, Lyria, are you there?”

Lyria realized she had been staring at her plate instead of eating and nodded for Rachelle to continue as she finished off the tray. Once she was done, they dropped off their trays at the scullery window and crossed the hallway to the classroom.

For the next hour, Lyria tried to focus on the lesson over pack diplomacy, but her thoughts kept drifting.

Today was her last day of training before the first full moon of Spring. Tomorrow, they would all be busy helping to prepare the keep for the influx of travelers coming to stay for the Moon Hunt. Nobles, spectators, and unmated males would arrive by the pack to watch or compete.

In just two days’ time, she would step out onto the forest floor of the arena and fight for her future.