Page 13 of Lycan Prince's Secret Baby

The weight of my words hung over the chamber.

Healer Maria spoke up, “Tamara would have backed these reforms. I would see them put in place, too.”

Ellen, the only other female on the council, echoed her sentiment. “For Tamara, I endorse these changes.”

But Sam’s disdain festered in the air, along with a couple of other staunch traditionalists. I realized that the path of true change wouldn’t be easy. There was a fissure formed by grief and anger that I had to cross and that we all did, but I swore I wouldn’t retreat. Sam’s barb about being seduced by the Blood Moon girl rang through me, muddying my thoughts. Yet, this was about all of us protecting our shared lands and breaking free from the cycles that had shackled our kind for too long.

Sam bringing up my mother’s death, hadn’t gained him more support. Instead, the two female elders, along with the majority of males, had been persuaded by the numbers and supported my reform. But, as the meeting adjourned, I strode out of the hall, ready to turn my words into action. We would usher in these necessary changes. A fire burned in my belly, and I swore I would fight this vicious cycle of hatred that had defined our kind for far too long. My mother’s name had acted as a catalyst for me, and I felt her spirit burning brightly within my chest. She would guide our pack into a long-awaited better future.

The time for change is now.

Chapter 7

Leah

Warmth prickled through me every time I noticed the improvements that Kyle’s reforms brought to my people. I didn’t have much cause to leave his house. My days were filled with duties that kept me close to him. Ever since he’d caught me at the Blood Moon cabin, he rarely assigned me tasks that took me outside.

My wolf rumbled that he was being protective.

He wants to keep us close.

I recalled the way he had gripped my wrist that night, his hold initially relentless, dragging me forward with a force that sent my heart racing. But then he slowed, his hand firm yet gentle, allowing me to catch my breath. Beneath the star-studded sky, with Kyle’s steady but tender grip on me, something had shifted between us. I hadn’t felt like a prisoner anymore; I’d felt guided and protected. A flutter of heat coursed through me at the memory, staining my cheeks despite the crisp air.

Yet doubts assailed me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that he kept me housebound because he trusted me even less since that night.

Whatever the reason, “Dig over the vegetable patch” hadn’t appeared on the list of chores in a while. Thankfully, with fall now well underway, the leaves needed collecting and bagging. For the past week, I’d caught glimpses of my pack bustling about their duties in the Moonlight compound.

It was a sight for sore eyes. Whenever I saw the Blood Moon children running about with a bounce in their step or the adults putting on weight, their pallor lifting, gratitude swelled within me that was as invigorating as the clear, fall air in my lungs. Kyle’s selflessness was evident everywhere I looked, and my heart squeezed with excitement as the certainty grew that he was unlike other Moonlights. He was a good man whose actions were beginning to change the fate of my people.

Kyle’s willingness to rise above the weight of his lineage filled me with deep admiration. I knew it wasn’t easy for him; I understood the weight of the tragedy of the Luna’s untimely death in Blood Moon territory and the pain it carried. My father, the Beta of our pack, had perished that day alongside our Alpha, Roman’s father. Yet, Kyle persisted, working tirelessly to mend wounds that others had long deemed too deep to heal.

Raking up the leaves, I savored the refreshing time outside, cocooned in the warmth of my fleece-lined jacket—a tangible reminder of Kyle’s goodness. He’d left it on my bed one evening, shortly after that walk back from the Blood Moon quarters.

I was consumed by a desire to lighten his burdens. I threw myself into my work at Kyle’s house, yearning to show my support and gratitude for the kindness he so freely shared with my people. Each morning, I baked, transforming his kitchen into a haven of warmth and sweetness. I had discovered his favorite snacks were pecans. So, I’d set to caramelizing pecans withmaple syrup and creating danishes with them. Their aroma filled the air with perfect fall flavors.

As I prepared his breakfasts, I grew increasingly aware of his habits, particularly his tendency to linger in the hall whenever I ate my full rations, checking that I was eating enough. It touched me deeply.

However, it became clear that Kyle rushed his own morning meals, restless energy driving him to seize the day with little more than a few mouthfuls to fuel him. No, Kyle was a “grab-and-go” kind of guy. I began adapting breakfast to suit him, whipping up smoothies loaded with vibrant greens and fresh flavors. He habitually demolished the green concoctions—spinach, apple, and mint became his favorite—leaving the sweeter berry blends. From then on, I stocked his cupboards with leafy greens. Each blend was a small token of my care.

Yet, my feelings burgeoned beyond simple admiration. An undeniable attachment to this man had developed, intertwining with the deep yearning that pulsed fiercely in my wolf. It felt as if my body came alive in response to his presence. It was something my body affirmed with changes. Heat radiated through me whenever he was near. My senses were heightened whenever he drew close.

Even a mundane task like ironing his shirts turned into a fevered undertaking. His musky pine scent beneath the fabric softener was enough to set frenzied fantasies swirling through me. Every time I ironed his shirts and pressed his trousers, I imagined my hands sweeping over these fabrics while hugging his solid, sculpted form. I felt my heart quicken and a flush creep over my cheeks as I battled with the primal call of the mate bond thrumming insistently through me, desperate to be satisfied.

One night, the urge to break free of our stifling routine became overpowering. The kitchen was steeped in the fragrant aroma of aniseed, fennel, and kiva, their scents mingling in the air like a spell. I felt daring as I walked the familiar path to his office door. Instead of simply knocking and leaving his tea outside as had been our routine, I decided that tonight, I was going to enter his office. Excitement coursed through my veins, my heart pounding with every step I took toward the door.

The steam from the teacup drifted over my face, and I felt like a witch trying to see through the hazy streams of time. Not a dark witch, no—my mother had once told me of an ancient prophetic ritual she’d witnessed in Silver Moon lands. It had required some of the rarest herbs from the deepest glaciers. Her words from the story filled my thoughts:“The witch was masked by her steaming cauldron, her eyes distant and unseeing, filled instead with visions of far-off horizons.”

Standing at Kyle’s door, my heart in my throat, I felt as if I’d been transported to those distant horizons and suddenly brought back to the moment. I wished that I could know the future and how Kyle would react. But I was just a shifter. Doubt crept in like a whisper in the shadows of my mind.

He’s going to order you away.

I pushed the thought aside. I longed for the chance to stand before him, face-to-face, and convey how much his actions meant to the Blood Moon Pack.

Jitters coursed along my arms, igniting goosebumps on my skin beneath the fabric of my linen shirt. With resolve, I knocked briskly before stepping through the door.

“Kyle,” I began, my voice steady yet laced with anticipation. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” The warm glow of the lamp on his desk illuminated his vibrant green eyes, now pooling with a mix of curiosity and tension.

For a moment, a flicker of hesitation crossed his face, and I feared he might dismiss me. Yet, with a deep breath, he said. “Sure. Come in.”

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