Claimed By Two Alphas

"You're a Luna on the run, huh?" Rodger chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Wow.

The future Luna of Red Moon Pack, no less. No wonder Driana chose to hide you with me the way she did."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

I decided to tell Cindy and Rodger my story of how I ended up here. I didn't see any reason not to. Rodger was clearly close to the witches who sent me. If I didn't tell him, they would. Besides, there was something about him that made me feel at ease. He carried this calm, grounded energy that made me trust him despite meeting him only moments ago.

As I recounted every painful detail of my relationship with Cameron and what I woke up to, they listened without judgment.

Rodger's expression darkened when I described waking up after the accident. His hand tightened on the armrest of his chair, knuckles whitening as if he wanted to throttle Cameron himself.

"What I mean," Rodger said finally, his voice firm but even, "is that my sisters and I have a bitter history with the Red Moon Pack."

"What kind of bitter history?" I asked, frowning. "I was just an orphaned warrior before Cameron made me his mate. We weren't told much about pack disputes. I used to pass by the witches' apothecary on my guard route into town before I turned eighteen, but my commander only told us to keep an eye on them and make sure they weren't causing problems. She never explained why."

The memory stirred something in me. I used to love stopping by that little village whenever I could, partly because the witches had the best-smelling lotions and soaps, and partly because I found their potions fascinating. They were never hostile toward me, unlike how they treated most warriors. It was during one of those visits that Driana had mentioned their scent-blocking potion in passing. That was right before my eighteenth birthday. After that, I wasn't allowed past the training grounds or the packhouse. Cameron's orders.

"Your Alpha," Rodger said, his tone sharp, "or rather your former Alpha, Carlton, is a vile cretin. I won't go into it tonight, but just know that Driana and Paulina will go to great lengths to keep you hidden. You are safe here. Driana has likely already erased every trace of your scent. I can smell the sweet tinge of vervain in your hair. Was she smoking one of her cigars when you left?"

I nodded slowly.

"Thought so," he said with a small grin. "I can set you up with a room, but keep in mind this place was originally meant as a sanctuary for men. No one will harm you here, but I thought you should know what to expect."

"We don't bite," Cindy added with a wink, snapping his teeth together in mock playfulness. "Not too hard, anyway. Unless you ask nicely."

I laughed at that, genuinely amused. Cindy had an energy about him that felt both playful and protective. Neither he, Rodger, nor any of the men downstairs felt threatening at all.

"I have no reason to be intimidated by gay men," I said lightly.

"Oh, honey. We're not all gay," Cindy said with a mischievous smirk. "You just stumbled in like a gypsy in distress on twink night. We are mostly a gay bar, yes, but we also have women's nights once a week. That's when the more macho crowd shows up. It's actually our busiest night."

Rodger leaned back, his eyes softening. "I built this place for men who needed a sanctuary. I once needed that kind of safe haven myself.

Over the centuries, witches have created places of safety for women, but I saw a need for men who were outcast or hunted, often for no fault of their own. Many here happen to be gay, but definitely not all. Everyone has a story."

"I like him," Cortina murmured inside me. She had been quiet for most of the conversation, but I could feel her warmth toward Rodger.

"I like him too," I whispered back.

Cindy excused himself to get back to his duties as bouncer and gatekeeper for the club. He gave me a brief handshake, his smile warm. "Welcome to the family," he said before strutting off.

Rodger led me to the top floor by elevator. There were only two apartments up here, each taking up half the floor. The left one, he explained, was already occupied, though the tenant traveled often and wasn't home much.

The right one, however, was all mine.

The apartment was fully furnished, though plainly decorated with only the necessities.

Still, it was far nicer than anything I expected.

A pang of guilt hit me when Rodger mentioned that most of the others shared rooms while I was getting an entire apartment.

"I'll let you settle in for now," he said as he placed the keys on the counter. "If you come down to the third floor around nine, you can meet most of the family. We usually cook dinner together.

Tonight, it's sloppy joes."

He smiled like he was apologizing for the simplicity of the meal.

"I haven't had a sloppy joe in years," I said, grinning despite myself.

"Sounds perfect.

Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," Rodger chuckled. "Oh, and tomorrow we'll see about getting you the things you need."

"I, uh… I don't have any money," I admitted, embarrassed. "I left with nothing. Not even clothes.

Your sisters dressed me before I left."

"Don't worry about that," he said gently. "We'll find something for you. Maybe you can bartend here, or even find work outside the club. Did my sisters give you a good supply of the scent-blocking potion?"

I nodded and opened my bag for him to see.

Rodger let out a low whistle. "That will last you a while. Plenty of time for me to get another batch brewed. Keep taking it to mask your scent. For now, I think it's best that we keep your identity as a Luna between us. The city has its dangers, and we can't be sure how far Fire Moon's reach goes."

"You think they could track me here?" I asked.

"Track you? No. My sisters will see to that.

But packs talk.

There's another pack not far from here that sometimes visits the beach just a couple of hours away. I'd rather keep you safe than risk them catching your scent when you're simply trying to enjoy your new life."

That made sense. I'd rather stay rogue and hidden, at least until I decide if I truly want revenge—or if I just want to disappear.