Swapped Luna part 8

VICTORIA

I roll around in my bed–no, in Maeve’s bed.

I shouldn’t be smiling. I shouldn’t be kicking Maeve’s feet with joy when the feet that really belong to me are decomposing in a grave back in Europe.

But I’m so thrilled that I’m finally getting somewhere with Thorne. He’s still as prickly as his name suggests, but his gaze is softening and laughter rumbles through his chest more frequently.

I think we’re becoming friends. I used to be terrified of the man, and he used to be repulsed by me, but we’re getting somewhere.

Soon, I’ll have enough trust established to ask for an opportunity. I’ll get the money and resources to return home.

Looking around Maeve’s bedroom, I see that she wasn’t lacking for much. The furniture in this room is made of the finest wood, and her vanity sparkles with trinkets and jewels. I could get something out of selling her things, but I wouldn’t dare. I’ve stolen this woman’s identity. I couldn’t possibly desecrate what remains of her by selling her things.

Eventually, I will have to break the news of her death to Thorne and her loved ones, but preferably when I’m back home in Europe and far away from the asylum Thorne would want to toss me into.

I’m not sure of Maeve’s family. She seems like a lonely woman. There are no portraits hanging anywhere, no letters stashed carefully in a drawer. I didn’t see any electronics I could snoop through, either. Werewolves aren't very dependent on technology.

Maeve didn’t seem to have any close friends. The handmaiden that followed me everywhere walked on eggshells, terrified of me. She finally got a break when I softly asked her for space. I haven’t seen her in a while. But the other maids that roam the halls act as skittishly as my handmaiden.

They looked horrified when I went to the kitchen to bake. When I offered them cookies, they handled them with hesitation. As if expecting them to be poisoned.

As awful as it is, I’m starting to think Maeve wasn’t a friendly woman. She had her demons, and Thorne could see right through her. That’s why he can’t stand her. The coldness, the infidelity.

I feel guilty for judging her. She’s gone. Dead in my corpse. She didn’t get a chance to grow as a person; her life cut short when I invaded her body and mind. She could have grown to become a beloved Luna. And now she’s tragically gone, with no one to mourn her but a stranger.

I sigh, remembering the gravity of the situation I’m in. I need to stop acting like a school girl crushing on the Alpha. We don’t have a future.

Rising off the bed, I step into the bathroom to freshen up. I glance at the toothbrush that I set aside. Maeve’s toothbrush. I grabbed a new toothbrush to use because it felt too intimate to use hers.

I look through her closet, struggling to find anything I would feel comfortable in. The woman dressed like a princess. All fine linens and tailored dresses. She hardly has any pants, and only like one pair of jeans. Sneakers are non-existent.

I should blend in by using her clothes. My loud, uncouth mouth raises enough suspicion. Maeve probably spoke five languages. Meanwhile, I curse and stutter around Thorne like an imbecile.

But I don’t feel comfortable in the silky, soft materials. I once dressed in potato sacks when I couldn’t afford winter clothes. I’m used to wearing itchy, flimsy materials. It’s the only way I can still feel like myself.

The old Victoria didn’t vanish along with her body. I’m still here. And I miss the comfort and familiarity of my old life, no matter how poor I was.

I dress in black slacks and a white blouse. The most subtle clothes I could find, but I still feel out of place in them. I’m going to have to ask a maid to let me borrow their wardrobe.

I wander outside, intending on learning more about the pack life. Maybe I’ll find a clue on how to shift.

“Luna,” calls my handmaiden, Shari.

“Good morning,” I smile at her, but of course she doesn’t see it because she doesn’t meet my eyes.

“Good morning. I have brought your correspondence.” She lifts an envelope. I thank her and accept it.

As I walk down the hall, I open the envelope and find a letter. It’s brief, written with neat handwriting. The letter asks me to meet with a Ms. Cathrine for “tea.” I have no idea who this person is, but if the tea is any indication, it’s a woman that’s as much as a lady as Maeve was.

She would see right through me. See my sloppiness and gracelessness. I will have to tread carefully.

I fold the letter anxiously, wondering how I’m going to gather information about this Catherine woman.

I come to a stop when I turn a corner and spot Thorne. He’s dressed in jeans and a gray t-shirt that’s much too tight around his biceps. A stack of paperwork is tucked underneath his arm.

“Good morning,” I say, a bit too chirpy.

“Good morning,” he replies, his face guarded. He untucks the paperwork and holds it in his hands.

I glance down, and the smile is wiped off my face. There’s a photograph on top of the stack. A photo of a female that I recognize.

It’s Millie. A nurse that treated me in the hospital. We weren’t best friends, but I took a liking to her.

Why does Thorne have a picture of her?

“Who is…who is that?” I ask, pointing at the image.

Thorne frowns. “This? You know. It’s Luna Millie. Alpha Leander’s missing mate.”

Luna Millie? But Millie is obviously human, right? She lived in Europe. She could have never even come across a werewolf. Much less a fucking Alpha.

It seems like the only way to meet one is through death and reincarnation. A high price to pay.

“But…”

Thorne chuckles. “Please, Maeve. You spend all day keeping track of the gossip among socialites. You know every Alpha and Luna in the country. Now you don’t recognize the Luna that has gone on the run for the second time since she met poor Leander?”

This has to be a twin, or a doppelgänger. This can’t be the Millie I knew from the hospital.

I force a smile onto my face. “You’re right. I guess the fall has made my memory a little faulty. I’ll see you later?”

He scans me from head to toe, and my spine straightens.

“Likely. I won’t go looking for you, but you always have a way of dragging me with your shenanigans.”

I chuckle. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me. See you later, big guy.”

As I walk past him, I rise to my tippy toes and pat his cheek.

“You’re getting a little comfortable, aren’t you?” He asks as I walk off.

“One more word out of you, and you won’t get any crepes.”

I laugh when he doesn’t reply, feeling all giddily.

I spend some time outside, walking and getting some fresh air. I don’t see Fang anywhere, so I spend the morning alone.

I return to the kitchen to eat some fruits for breakfast and then rummage through the available ingredients. I have just enough.

I grab an apron and try to convince the maids to call down. They look at me like I’m a ticking time bomb, but eventually stop insisting to help and give me some space.

With my ingredients carefully calculated, I start baking crepes like my second life depends on it. I pour my heart into baking, thinking of Thorne the entire time. Obsessing over the thought of him licking his lips or groaning as he bites into them.

I make a large batch to share with everyone. And a few hours later, I’m covered in flour but deeply satisfied.

“Fuck!” I shout when I accidentally grab a searing hot plan.

“Luna!”

A male appears with an tray of ice cubes and presses it under my burned fingertips.

“Th-thank you,” I tell the stranger, rattled by my mistake.

I’ve never seen him before. He’s tall, and his large hand wraps around my wrist as he carefully holds it.

“Is there a problem here?” Comes another, deeper, male voice. One that I recognize. It’s Thorne.

Fuck. Why did he have to find me in this situation?

I suddenly become aware of how close this unknown man and I are standing. How carefully he cradles hand.

I look at Thorne guiltily, although I’ve done nothing wrong.

He’s furious. He’s seething as he asks, “Back at it again, Maeve?”

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