The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 9

I watched Darin’s broad shoulders disappear up the stairs, his footsteps echoing until the door closed above. Even after he was gone, the air in the pantry still felt thick with him, his stare clinging to my skin like a brand. My chest felt tight, every breath shallow, and my lips tingled where his eyes had lingered too long.

The pantry was quiet again, only the faint creak of the shelves and the whisper of grain settling in its bins. I forced myself back to work, though my hands trembled as I wrote down numbers. My head swam, light and foggy, each line of the ledger blurring until I had to blink hard to refocus. My body ached from hunger. My lips were cracked, dry as old parchment. My stomach growled louder than the scratch of my pencil, so loud it made me wince at the sound.

I was almost finished when the door creaked open again.

Darin stepped inside.

But this time, he wasn’t empty-handed.

A plate balanced easily in one of his large hands, and on it sat a sandwich—not half, not a scrap—but a full, thick one. The smell hit me first, rich and warm: fresh bread, roasted meat, sharp cheese. It was heaven compared to the gnawing emptiness in my stomach.

He didn’t speak, just held it out.

I didn’t even hesitate.

I snatched the plate from his hand and tore into the sandwich, my hands shaking, crumbs scattering down the front of my shirt. I ate like a starving animal—and maybe I was. I didn’t care that it wasn’t ladylike, that my mouth was messy, that grease and crumbs stained my lips. I didn’t care if I disgusted him. Starvation had stripped me raw. Pride didn’t matter. Shame didn’t matter. Only feeding mattered.

I devoured every bite.

All the while, I felt his eyes on me. Watching. Measuring. Silent, but heavy. Each chew, each swallow seemed louder under the weight of his gaze. My cheeks burned, but I couldn’t stop.

When the last bite was gone, I licked the crumbs from my lips, my wolf stirring beneath my skin, restless and primal. That hunger—deeper than my stomach, sharper than my bones—didn’t fade. It coiled tighter, demanding more.

The sandwich would have to suffice. For now. But it wasn’t enough. My body still craved, still ached, my wolf whispering that I needed more, that I should demand it, claw for it if I had to.

I opened my mouth, ready to ask—ready to trade again—when the door slammed open.

Lyra’s voice cut sharp into the room. “There she is.”

Callie and Rina flanked her, their cruel laughter spilling into the air. Lyra’s green eyes gleamed as she stepped forward, her tone deliberately loud. “This time we’ll make sure she doesn’t heal. She won’t have any energy left after we’re through.”

Callie cracked her knuckles, grinning. “I learned a new move in training. Can’t wait to try it out on her.”

The sound of their voices turned my blood cold. My hands trembled at my sides, my pulse racing in my throat.

But then they froze.

Their eyes widened.

Because Darin was still there.

His body shifted subtly, his stance squaring as a low growl rolled from his chest, deep and dangerous. The sound vibrated through the shelves, rattling the jars.

Lyra faltered, confusion flashing across her face. “What are you doing here?” she snapped, though her voice carried less confidence than before.

“It’s my job now,” Darin said darkly. His tone was edged with steel, his stare cutting into her. “I ensure the inventory stays stocked. That means I decide who does what.” His eyes narrowed on Lyra. “And shouldn’t this be your job? Alpha Lucas assigned it to you.”

Lyra’s mouth opened, then closed. Her bravado cracked for a fleeting moment. She tossed her hair, her lips twisting into a pout. “I’m too weak for this kind of work. Everyone knows that. I can’t lift crates and sacks.”

Darin’s lip curled in disdain. “Then I’ll speak to Alpha Lucas. We’ll reassign you to laundry duty. Everyone pulls their weight here. No freeloaders.”

Lyra’s face went pale, the color draining from her cheeks. She cast me a glare so sharp it made my stomach knot, her fury burning with silent promise. Then she spun on her heel, snapping, “Come on.”

Callie and Rina exchanged uncertain looks before following her out. The three of them stormed away, their footsteps echoing down the hall.

The door shut, and silence returned, thick and heavy. Only my uneven breathing broke it.

I turned slowly, my voice barely a whisper. “Why did you… stand up for me?”

Darin’s smirk returned, sharp and knowing. His boots scraped softly against the stone as he stepped closer.

Before I could back away, his hand lifted. His thumb brushed across my lower lip. My breath caught, my body going rigid.

He lifted his thumb slowly, deliberately, until it hovered at his mouth. His tongue flicked out, dragging across the smear of mayo clinging to his skin. He licked it clean with agonizing slowness, his eyes locked on mine the entire time.

The air left my lungs in a sharp rush.

His eyes gleamed with something dark, a hunger that wasn’t about food at all. The space between us shrank until I could feel the heat rolling off him.

“Because I’m done being Maverick’s lap dog,” he said smoothly, voice low, curling around me like smoke. “And because I can’t stand the way they treat you.”

The words hit deep, a strange mixture of relief and dread. My heart pounded—not with gratitude, not with safety—but with something heavier, sharper. Something that twisted deep in my chest and made my wolf stir uneasily.

Something I didn’t know how to name.