Moonbound: The Rogue's Second Chance

Serena's legs trembled with exhaustion, each step more unsteady than the last. She bit her tongue, forcing herself to keep moving. She had sworn to get these people home, and she would see it through, even if her body screamed in protest.

It was the least she could do for them, they had kept her company for a few days. It was the first time in ages she'd had a full conversation with real people, not just the plants, the grey tabby that visited her, or the silent spirits.

The simple act of treating another person had almost brought her to tears. Despite being under-equipped and unable to help as much as she'd hoped, she had done something.

Pausing, Serena shifted her weight onto her left foot, easing the ache in her shoulder where Annamarie's limp body pressed down. The younger woman hung like a ragdoll, her head lolling against Serena's arm. The younger woman had suffered the worst injury- a deep, open wound on her abdomen.

Serena's thoughts drifted to the late nights when Annamarie would grip her hand in a cold sweat, muttering incoherent words... or at least things Serena couldn't understand. She had done her best, but with limited resources, it was clear that Annamarie needed to be taken to an infirmary. 

Serena ignored the ringing in her head. She had been pushing herself too hard, but her eagerness to help kept her going.

"We're close," Emmett said, his voice steady but tinged with weariness.

Serena glanced back at him. He had made her laugh more times than she could count during the short time they'd spent together. He wasn't particularly funny, but the way he exaggerated every movement, combined with his overly serious demeanor, amused her.

Close behind him was Jack, who had stubbornly insisted on limping the whole way to the borders. Despite the men's protests, Serena had forced them to stop several times to rest.

"I can't wait to eat Ma's roast," Jack muttered, but Serena caught his words. Roast... Her mouth watered at the thought, properly done, glazed with honey, not the makeshift meals she had been throwing together on the fly.

Serena shuffled forward, the sound of thunder rumbling closely behind. She hoped they would find shelter quickly before the storm engulfed them. This year's storm felt particularly aggressive, the river murmured restlessly, the water agitated, and the birds had fallen eerily silent. The storm was hungry, claiming lives, which was part of the reason she had urged Emmett to return home.

She smelled him before she saw him, a blend of jasmine, freshly cut grass, and something sweetly fruity that felt out of place in the storm-soaked air.

Her eyes met hazel ones, framed by red hair like a burning flame, lazily falling in a wavy mullet cut around his angular face. He was a striking man, she thought, with a touch of feminine appreciation.

A shorter man rushed toward her, and Serena stumbled backward, unsure of what to do. Emmett quickly stepped in front of her, diffusing the situation. But Serena didn't miss the look the stranger cast her way, a fleeting but unmistakable expression of disgust. Like she was something unclean, an unsightly pest that didn't belong.

The world seemed to tilt sideways, and Serena tried to steady herself. She failed, collapsing to the ground as the world went silent around her.

—

Serena woke with a jolt, the soft sheets feeling alien under her touch. She looked around the unfamiliar room, its high ceiling and simple chandelier casting reflections from the candlelight that illuminated the space. The space was simple, yet everything about it spoke of quiet affluence.

The air smelled sanitized, scrubbed clean with soaps to erase any blemishes. Yet, the blonde woman sat awkwardly on the bed, a stark contrast to the pristine surroundings.

The doorknob turned under her hand, but it didn't budge. Locked. Her stomach dropped. She stilled, her eyes scanning the room for a window. The ones present were too high to reach and barred.

Her clothes had been changed to a beige and brown gown with flared sleeves resembling a trumpet. She rummaged through the small room, finding nothing of particular interest until she came across a bathroom with a small mirror.

The small adjoining bathroom offered a pail and a cracked mirror. Serena grimaced at her reflection. Her glassy green eyes stared back, rimmed with exhaustion. Dust smudged her cheeks, and her once-vivid hair hung limp and tangled. Carefully, she used a small pail to rinse her hair and face, taking care not to ruin the gown.

With her hair now neatly styled into twin braids tied in a bun, she shook the water from her hands just as the door opened. The intoxicating scent from earlier filled Serena's nose, and the weight of his presence pressed down on her. This man was no ordinary person.

"Who are you?" His voice was deep, steady, demanding. Serena opened her mouth to respond, but the overwhelming sensation she hadn't felt in years washed over her.

The urge to touch him, to trace the line of his jaw, to tangle her fingers in his hair—it was overwhelming. Her chest tightened as if her very soul was clawing its way toward him. Serena swallowed hard, her senses dulled to everything but him. Was the Moon Goddess playing a cruel trick on her?

"Mine," a distorted growl echoed, so different from the voice that had just asked her a question.

She felt a familiar stirring deep within her consciousness, where her silent companion had once resided. Feyra whimpered softly.

Her hands clutched her chest, and she shook her head. "No," she whispered, unaware of when the tears had started falling until she tasted their saltiness on her lips.

The man moved swiftly to her side, gently brushing away her tears, but he suddenly flinched, retreating as quickly as he had approached. His eyes widened in shock, and he stumbled back before scurrying out the door, the soft click of the lock echoing in the silence.

Once he was gone, Serena collapsed to her knees, clutching her pendant tightly for comfort. This couldn't be happening. It wasn't impossible, but she had felt this way before.

No, it couldn't be. Yet, deep down, a gnawing doubt whispered the truth: that man was her mate.