Page 27 of His Fierce Lycan Luna

“Ah, I think I prefer the river walk to shoveling poop,” I tell him, and he chuckles.

“It’s a date then,” he says, looping his arm through mine. We head toward the river. Peter is right. The river is quite high and flowing fast. We sit down on the bank for a bit.

“So, how did you start working here?” I ask him.

“I live with my grandparents, and they used to be servants here and got me the job.”

“Where are your parents?”

“Dad, no idea. My mother dumped me with them when I was born. I see her every now then, but she doesn’t really have much to do with me. She prefers to pretend I don’t exist. I am her dirty little secret,” he tells me.

Well, that sounds a bit harsh.

“And your father?”

He shrugs. “Mum didn’t know his name, or so she claims.”

“What does your mother do?” I ask him.

“Works at the grocery store in town. I usually pretend I don’t have a mother. It’s easier that way.”

“I’m sorry Peter, that sucks,” I tell him.

“All good. My grandparents are good enough for me,” he says, getting to his feet. “I’ll race you back?” he says, offering me his hand. I take it, and he pulls me to my feet.

“Ah, I probably shouldn’t,” I tell him. The last thing I need is to fall over or injure myself. Kyson would never let me leave the room and wrap me in bubble wrap if I did.

“Oh right, that probably isn’t Queenly,” Peter chuckles.

“No, it’s not that,” I tell him, my hand going instinctively to my barely there bump. Peter’s eyes follow my hand and he gasps.

“Wait. Are you pregnant?” he asks, and my face heats and I nod.

“Well, come on. Had I known that, I wouldn’t have made you trek through the forest,” he chuckles.

Suddenly, a blur of movement catches my eye, and the crunching of underbrush signals someone nearby. Trey bursts onto the scene, his body propelled by urgency. He skids to a halt mere inches from us. He clutches his knees, panting heavily, as he raises his eyes to mine. There is a flicker of concern in his gaze that has me confused.

Trey straightens, his chest heaving from the exertion as he fixes his gaze on me, a blend of relief and mild irritation playing across his features. His eyes search mine for a second.

“There you are!” His voice carries a sharp edge, softened only by the undercurrent of worry that seems to thread through the words.

I shuffle my feet, acutely aware of the pulse of life within me, feeling the weight of his unspoken questions. I meet Trey’s intense stare with an attempt at casual indifference.

“Why are you out here?” The query hangs between us.

“We went for a walk,” says Peter, the corners of his eyes crinkling with excitement as he looks up at Trey.

Trey nods, though his expression remains unreadable, as he takes in Peter before looking back at me. “Go on, I will take her back,” Trey says, almost daring me to tell him no. He returns his gaze back to Peter for a second. “Shouldn’t you be in the stables?” His gaze holds Peter’s just long enough to convey the unvoiced command that lingers beneath the surface.

With a playful roll of his eyes, Peter concedes to the silent authority in Trey’s look and rushes off back toward the castle.

Falling into step beside me, Trey grips my elbow gently glancing around like he is worried someone or something will jump out at us and attack at any moment. Leaves crunch underfoot as we make our way along the path that will lead usback toward the looming structure that is both my sanctuary and my cage.

I can feel the weight of the castle’s proximity pressing against me like the air before a storm—oppressive, electric.

Trey’s voice cut through the silence. “You shouldn’t wander so far from the castle, my Queen. What if something happened?”

His gaze holds mine, the furrow of his brow and the slight tension in his shoulders suggest he is all too aware of the dangers that lurk beyond the safety of stone walls and iron gates.

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