After My Sister Became Luna, I Was His Blood Slave

The cold bite of metal pressed against my wrist as Alpha Knox secured the leather restraint. I didn't fight it. Three years had taught me that resistance only made it worse.

"Hold still," he growled, his Alpha tone vibrating through my bones, forcing my body to comply even as my mind screamed in protest.

I stared at the ceiling of the Blood River Pack dungeon, counting the cracks in the stone as the needle slid into my vein. The pain was familiar—a dull ache that would soon blossom into a burning sensation as my blood flowed through the tube.

"Your sister sent another postcard," Knox said casually, watching the dark red liquid fill the collection bag. "Paris this time. She says the Eiffel Tower is magnificent."

My heart stuttered painfully in my chest. Madeleine. Always Madeleine.

"I wonder what she'll send next week," he continued, his voice deceptively soft. "Another photo of her with that Rogue lover of hers? Another reminder of how she's living while you're here... serving."

The bag was half-full now. My vision swam slightly—I'd already lost too much blood this week.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you," Knox snapped, his Alpha command forcing my chin up.

I met his gaze, knowing what would come next. His eyes, dark and cruel, swept over my face with undisguised disgust.

"Those eyes," he spat. "So dull. So lifeless. Nothing like Madeleine's. She has fire in her eyes. Spirit."

The comparison was deliberate, designed to cut deep. It always did.

"Madeleine would never let herself look so... pathetic," he continued, removing the needle with a rough jerk that made me wince. "But then, she's not a replacement. Not a substitute."

He held up the bag of my blood, examining it with clinical detachment. "At least this has value. The warriors need it after patrol."

The room spun slightly as he released my wrist, the leather strap falling away. I didn't move, couldn't move. The Alpha command still held me in place.

"Clean the warrior barracks tonight," he ordered, tucking the blood into his jacket. "Every inch. By dawn."

"But I have to—"

"Did I ask for your opinion?" His voice dropped dangerously low. "Did I?"

The weight of his Alpha aura pressed down on me, crushing any further protest. "No, Alpha."

---

A week later, chaos erupted through the pack house. The scent of expensive perfume wafted through the corridors—a scent I knew too well.

"She's back," whispered the kitchen staff as I scrubbed pots. "The real Luna has returned."

My hands stilled in the soapy water. Madeleine. Back from her adventures with humans and Rogues. Back to claim what was never truly hers.

That evening, I stood against the wall of the dining hall, watching as my family gathered for dinner. I wasn't invited to sit. I was there to serve.

"Kyra," my father said stiffly when he saw me. "Bring wine for our guests."

I moved silently to the table, my eyes downcast as I poured