Rise Of The Rejected Luna

Kiara’s POV

"It is today," I said excitedly as I threw the windows of my bedroom open.

Outside, the clouds in the east were lightening a little with the faint tinge of dawn. It was more than an hour before I had to wake up, but I was too excited to stay in bed much longer. I threw on some clothes, tied up my sneakers, and headed out for my morning run. I felt a wave of sadness when I looked at the woods surrounding my home and remembered that I couldn't run wild and free the way my kind did.

"Focus, Kiara. Focus," I muttered to myself again.

I shook off the sad mood and focused on the significance of today as I ran down the deserted street.

Today, I turned eighteen.

Today, I would get to find out if Jason was my mate.

Of course, he would be. We had been dating for over a year now and we loved each other to distraction.

I couldn't think about Jason without thinking about all the good times we had together. My steps slowed to a walk, excitement, and anticipation making butterflies take wing in my belly. I kept imagining how happy Jason and I would be after we'd accepted each other as mates. We would get married, and then have kids eventually, maybe a few years from now. I would always be there to welcome him when he got home and...

"...crazy freak."

The words brought me back to the present. With a visible start of surprise, I realized from the position of the sun in the sky that it had to be about two hours since I had left the house. Two girls around my age were looking in my direction. The one that had spoken saw me looking and whispered to the other. I supposed I did look a little crazy with a goofy grin on my face and the fact that I wasn't paying attention to where my feet were taking me. I had just been about to step into a large puddle of muddy water. I turned to head back the way I came, realizing for the first time that I had gathered quite an audience. All along the street, people were staring, and whispering. A man was even pointing at me while talking to someone even though he knew I could see him.

I shrugged and kept on walking. I was used to the insults and stares by now, so they didn't affect me much. Irina, the freak; that was one of my kindest nicknames. Still, I schooled my expression as I headed home, not wanting to give anyone more reasons to think that I was off my rocker. My father and stepmother, Lora were in the dining room having breakfast when I got in.

"Hi, dad. Hi Lucinda Lora," I greeted, doing my best to infuse warmth into my tone.

My dad glanced at me, grunted, and resumed sipping his coffee. Lora didn't