The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 8

The pantry was full again.

Shelves that had been bare days ago now groaned under the weight of sacks of flour, bins of beans, jars of dried fruit, and crates of vegetables freshly hauled in from town. Alpha Lucas had sent one of the warriors to replenish everything, and now it was my task to redo the inventory, count it all, and organize it.

My stomach cramped painfully as I wrote down numbers, the smell of food thick in the air. My lips were cracked, my throat dry. My parents and Lyra hadn’t given me food or water in two days—my punishment for “shaming” them in front of the Alpha.

The irony burned bitter in my chest. Surrounded by abundance, I couldn’t touch a single bite.

My stomach growled loud enough to echo, a humiliating reminder of my weakness. I pressed a hand against it, willing it silent as I turned back to the crates stacked on the floor.

Ten sacks of flour, each five pounds. I bent to lift the crate, bracing my knees, but my arms trembled. My body shook with the effort, my vision swam, and the wood nearly slipped from my grip.

I gasped, trying to hold on—

Then the weight vanished.

The crate lifted clean out of my hands and settled neatly onto the shelf with a thud.

I blinked up, breath caught in my throat.

Darin.

My whole body went cold.

He stood over me, his lips curved in that familiar smirk, eyes glinting like a wolf catching a rabbit in the open. “What’s this?” he drawled. “The little mouse suddenly too weak to carry a few sacks of flour?”

I said nothing, turning quickly back to my ledger, hoping he would leave it at that.

But he didn’t.

His hand shot out, fingers clamping around my jaw, forcing my face up. His grip was bruising, his thumb digging against the hinge of my jaw as his eyes locked onto mine.

“I asked you a question,” he growled, his voice low and sharp. “Why are you so weak?”

I tried to look away, but he held me firm. My chest rose and fell too fast, my lips trembling against his grip. He leaned closer, his breath brushing my cheek.

“Answer me, Kira.”

I had no choice.

“Because…” My voice cracked, thin and shaky. “Because I’m being punished.”

His eyes narrowed. “Punished how?”

Silence strangled me. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. But then my stomach betrayed me, growling so loud it echoed between us.

His smirk widened. “Ah. Starved.” He released me slowly, fingers dragging along my skin before falling away. “That explains it.”

Relief flickered through me for a second—until he leaned closer, lowering his voice.

“I could feed you,” he said smoothly. “But it’ll cost you.”

I stiffened, my brows drawing together. “Cost me… what?”

His grin spread wolfishly. “A kiss. Just a little taste for myself. To see if maybe there’s a spark between us.”

My heart thudded against my ribs. A kiss? No one had ever offered me such a thing before. No one had ever taken a liking to me. Not like this. Not at all.

Still… there was something wrong about it. Something dangerous in the way he smiled at me like I was prey.

Swallowing hard, I forced myself to ask, “And what would you feed me?”

Darin chuckled. “Half a sandwich. A kiss equals half. Give me more, maybe I’ll give you more.”

My stomach clenched painfully. Hunger made my hands shake. Against every instinct, against the unease tightening in my gut, I whispered, “Fine.”

His smirk deepened. “Good girl.”

Before I could move, he stepped in, crowding me back until my shoulders hit the cold stone wall. His body loomed over mine, heat radiating off him. He braced one hand beside my head, the other curling under my chin to tip it up again. His eyes bored into mine, dark and gleaming with hunger that wasn’t just for food.

Then his mouth was on mine.

The kiss was rough, demanding. His lips pressed hard, claiming, tasting. My first kiss—stolen here, in the shadows, with the wrong man. My breath hitched, my body stiff at first, then trembling as something sharp and unfamiliar rushed through me. The sensation was new, strange… a spark of heat blooming in my chest, curiosity tugging at me, making me wonder what it might feel like again.

But beneath it, wrongness twisted deep in my gut. His kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t tender. It was hunger, lust, possession. A kiss that felt more like a claim than a gift.

When he pulled back, his eyes were still fixed on mine, his lips curved in satisfaction.

I pressed my back harder against the wall, heart pounding, my stomach roiling with both hunger and unease.

It was my first kiss. And though part of me wanted to explore the strange heat of it again… everything in my soul whispered it was wrong.