Page 21 of Lycan Prince's Secret Baby

“Done,” I said, hurrying to the door, my feet pounding down the hall as if I couldn’t get away fast enough. My heart punched at my chest, my wolf howling as we both realized that this time, the hurt Kyle had caused us was deep and devastating.

Chapter 12

Kyle

I dragged in a great lungful of Alaskan air. With the sun peeking through the scattered clouds, Mark and I had taken to the training ring outside the Council Chamber today. The ground was compacted, smoothed by countless feet and paws over the years, like the scars crisscrossing a seasoned warrior. Wooden poles marked the perimeter, etched with runes—inscriptions for strength, bravery, and speed, silent calls for the moon goddess’s blessings.

Mark stood opposite me, his dark hair gleaming like polished mahogany under the sun. Droplets of sweat trickled down his forehead, glistening against his tanned skin. He lowered his stance, muscles taut under his training gear. “You ready to go again?” he shouted, a challenge dancing in his alert eyes.

“Bring it on,” I responded, adrenaline surging through me. The fabric of my T-shirt clung uncomfortably to my skin, drenched with sweat, yet I wasn’t ready to stop. The ring had become my sanctuary, and the only place where I could lose myself.

A small crowd of Moonlight Pack members gathered on the edge of the ring, their murmurs fading as I focused.

Mark lunged first, his footwork a blur as he weaved toward me. I adjusted my stance, grounding myself against the onslaught of his energy. His fist flew toward my face. I ducked low, feeling the rush of air as his fist narrowly missed my cheek.

With a feral grin, I retaliated with a quick uppercut aimed at his torso. A satisfying ‘thud’ reverberated through my knuckles as I connected, eliciting a grunt from him that sent him teetering back.

“Nice shot!” Mark acknowledged, his breath rasping as he circled, eyeing me.

Despite the burst of triumph, guilt gnawed at my insides, growing heavier with every heartbeat. Each thump brought forth memories of Leah’s beautiful body laid out before me. My mind spun. I’d never experienced such ecstasy, and it seemed to have become threaded into my very being. Recollections of Leah’s sweat-slicked skin and the taste of her sweetness surged vividly, stealing my focus.

Mark landed a hit to my side, and I grumbled, pain flaring through me. I pivoted away, breath coming in steady puffs as I squared up to him. He advanced again, jabbing toward my face. I swiped my forearm out, deflecting his strike and feeling the sting of his skin brushing mine—a reminder that I was alive, even as memories of Leah threatened to drown me.

I opened up the distance between us with measured steps before weaving in, channeling the adrenaline surging through me. I leaped toward him with a punch aimed at his jaw.

His reflexes were solid—he darted away just in time. I ducked to evade another, then countered with a swift sidekick that caughthim off guard, the impact jolting through my leg and knocking him back a step.

The crowd erupted in a chorus of cheers, but the hollowness inside me couldn’t be filled with their praise. And, deep down, I knew that no matter how many blows I landed, nothing would fill this chasm—the one that was only growing ever since that reckless evening with Leah.

My muscles strained, aching to burn in the rhythm of the fight because it was the only thing I’d found that dulled this guilt that threatened to eat me alive.

Scowling, I tried to suffocate the torturous memory. Again, as Mark and I clashed, throwing a flurry of punches, it wasn’t my assistant’s fists causing the ache in my chest but the memory of Leah’s resentful voice,“The Blood Moon tricked you. Otherwise, why else would a noble Moonlight like you say what you did to a lowly slave like me?”

Each punch was a release, a manifestation of the frustrations I’d bottled up and smothering me because this was all I had. The devastating truth was we couldn’t be together. Enemy packs. Nothing could change that.

With the fog threatening to descend, I gritted my teeth, launching myself at Mark, turning my desperation into power as I swung at him. He ducked again, and I seized the moment, pivoting on my heel to execute a spinning backfist.

Thwack!My strike connected with his jaw, and he staggered, hitting the dirt.

The small crowd erupted in a chorus of applause.

I stretched out a hand to help him up, and he took it, shaking his head. “Even when you’re distracted, you give a mean right hook,” he said, grinning and stretching out his jaw.

“Distracted.”The word echoed through me. I felt like it was eating me alive—like my wolf had decided to devour me from the inside out. I wouldn’t be surprised. He’d been sullen and furious since I’d blown it with Leah. We’d gotten our mate, and then we’d shredded everything apart. I hadn’t told Mark about Leah, of course. I hadn’t told anyone. No one could know. That was the point.

“Distracted,” I shot at him a smile. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

He laughed, shaking his head and puffing out great heaving breaths.

I told myself that this was all I needed. More of this, and I’d be right as rain. I let my racing heart, my sweat-slicked skin, and the great cleansing breaths that I shared with my assistant be enough.

But just as I began to feel my heart’s rhythm settle, a cacophony of voices cut through my semblance of hard-won calm. The crowd was growing around us. This was a far bigger crowd than a training session drew. Mark and I generally had a few spectators, but Moonlight Pack members were emerging from the doorways of their houses and work buildings.

My gaze darted toward the treeline, snapping onto gray wolves: Moonlights. All Moonlights had gray coats, while Blood Moons were red-furred. My heart thudded with anticipation as I discerned the largest one. His fur shimmered like polished steel in the sunshine. Each ripple of muscle beneath his coatcommanded attention as he led the returning Moonlight wolves behind him: my father.

He and six other wolves padded over to the Council Chamber. A crowd of Moonlights had surrounded the training ring, drawn to their Alpha. In a moment, my father’s beast had been replaced by his human form.

Reginald was almost as tall as me, just shy of my six foot three. He commanded respect with his height and wide bearing. At fifty, his body was still toned and lean, and the many battle-earned scars glimmered on his skin with pride. He looked everything like a warrior from the ancient myths and legends, crafted by the moon goddess herself.

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