Chapter 4 A Real Luna

I couldn't believe Aaron had just said that as I gazed into his deep eyes. My lack of response had clearly infuriated him. Emotions, especially with me, were something he rarely displayed. All the remaining gentleness he possessed, he reserved for Julie. Suddenly, a memory from the past resurfaced. It was a day when I had waited eagerly for him in our room. However, that night, he didn't come home. I had only heard the sound of the car engine in the courtyard as the day began to break. He was so busy during that time, and his business had him completely drained. I considered it a great blessing when he did manage to come home. I had to seize that opportunity. When he returned to the room and switched on the lights, we exchanged no words. I was only half-dressed, and I pretended to look shy as I asked him why he had come home so late. He fell silent for just a moment before throwing the jacket he was holding onto my body. The jacket, damp with morning mist, felt unusually cold against my skin. "What's this? Put on your clothes!" He hurried into the bathroom. Apparently, he thought he wasn't being intimidating enough because he emerged and declared, "You'll sleep in the guest room if you pull this stunt again." I lay beneath the blanket, feeling numb. Even though the heater was set to over 20 degrees Celsius, it couldn't warm my body. I hung the jacket on the ornate wooden rack and dressed as quietly as possible, then slipped out of the room before Aaron emerged from the bathroom. I remained wide awake in the guest room until morning. It had been a while since I had seen the sun through the window. It had only been a little over two hours since I had arrived there. The sun looked beautiful. However, just like the guest room with no heater, my heart felt as cold as ice. I had been waiting for Aaron to come and find me, but it seemed he had forgotten about me. On that day, I learned from the maids that he had gone to the Hearst family. I learned about my husband through the TV, the maids, the news, magazines, and articles. Yet, I never heard anything from him directly. "What are you thinking about?" His loud rebuke brought me back to reality abruptly. He had carelessly removed my bra, and I panicked, grabbing his hand instinctively. "Where were you just now?" I inquired, and I noticed an immediate change in his expression. Despite his inebriation, my question seemed to have partially sobered him up. His expression held a silent challenge, as if asking me what gave me the audacity to question his whereabouts. I did it intentionally. A few months ago, I had asked him the same question when I found out that he had met Julie at the office. He had been visibly annoyed, warning me to stop asking about his whereabouts, or he would stay away from home for a week. I knew that probing into his whereabouts was a form of punishment for him—he despised constant surveillance, especially when it came from me. This time, he didn't respond. Instead, he abruptly released me, almost tearing my clothing in the process. Alphas possessed powerful wolfishness, and their strong hands could easily damage my skin if they were careless. I felt sore on my back; perhaps he had exerted too much force just now. He still hadn't answered my question. He sat down on the leather sofa nearby, tugging at his tie forcefully. A drunk person was inherently clumsy. Even an alpha couldn't resist the effects of alcohol. After some hesitation, I finally got off the bed and reached out to help him remove his tie. "You've had too much to drink," I remarked as I began to assist him. He opened his eyes, gazing at me condescendingly from his seated position. I continued to undress him, kneeling halfway. I had imagined this scenario a thousand times, but he had never allowed me to do it. Yet today, my wish was finally granted. It was during the process of removing his clothes that I realized how emotional he had become. His breathing grew heavy, and his eyes seemed glazed over. This was not just the effect of alcohol. Confused, I glanced down, following his gaze, and then I understood. I had forgotten to button my own clothes. "I..." My cheeks flushed, and I quickly covered myself. "I didn't do that on purpose." Panic washed over me, and I wanted to leave the room immediately. However, Aaron didn't give me the chance; he grabbed my wrist. He held me tightly in his embrace, and I could feel the rapid rhythm of his heart through his thin shirt. He remained silent, but then he lightly licked my ear. I felt uncomfortable with his actions and began to protest while struggling. "I'll make you some soup to help you sober up." "No need," he replied, unleashing his more primal desires. I could see the burning desire in his eyes. In the past, I had wished for my husband to be passionate about me, but to him, my status was lower than that of the maids. Now it seemed like my dream was coming true, yet I couldn't muster any excitement. “You didn’t rest at the hospital tonight,” I pushed him away, “You were with Julie, and you had so much to drink.” He finally let me go. “Were you following me?” Oh please, I could find out about your whereabouts easily without any investigation. “I didn’t, I only saw you on TV.” “Get out.” I pushed him away many times, of course he knew that I was unwilling. He had lost interest in me now. His eyes were filled with disgust and resentment. “Aaron…” “I asked you to get out.” I could not say no to his request, or he would give me an even more cruel punishment. “Got it.” With a numb heart, I covered myself and returned to that cold guestroom that I was familiar with. He suddenly grabbed my hand when I was passing him by. “Why are you pretending?” I sensed his rage. He was upset with me; he had never shown that before. “Haven’t you always wanted to be a real Luna?” I wanted to be a real Luna, to become his woman. But I also wanted his heart. “Aaron, do you like Julie?” The atmosphere became even more tense when I said that. I saw an unknown emotion in his eyes. He seemed to be hesitating. To me, his hesitation was cruel. I thought I would not be sad. In reality, no matter how indifferent I may have seemed, I was lying to myself when I said I did not care about him. “I’m sleeping in the other room.” I did not want him to see me crying. That would disgust him even more. “Stay right there.” However, he would not let me leave just like that. “Who said you could question my love life?” “Why can’t I?” He was my husband. Why would I have no right to ask? “No reason. You should know that you lost that right the day we got married.”