“What did he say to you?” Grayson said.
“Who?”
“Calvin.” He opened one eye. Cold. “You’ve been walking into furniture since his visit. Dropped the curtain rod yesterday. Nearly knocked over the monitor this morning.” The eye stayed on me. “If he told you something that affects my operation, I need to hear it.”
“He brought flowers. I told him to leave.” I held his gaze. “That’s all.”
He studied me for another second. Then his eye closed, and the conversation died.
A knock saved us both.
“Luna Princess?” A servant bowed in the doorway. “The King and Queen request your presence in the main hall.”
The main hall was vast – stone pillars, vaulted ceiling, the royal crest carved into the far wall above the King’s elevated chair. I smoothed my tunic, tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and walked in.
The King filled his chair completely – scarred, iron-haired, motionless. The Queen stood beside him in dark emerald silk, her posture blade-straight, her expression unreadable. Ophelia was there too, arms crossed, blonde hair pinned up, her eyes tracking me across the floor like I was something she’d have to clean up later.
And my father. Standing to the side in his best coat – dark wool, polished brass buttons, the one he only wore for people who outranked him. He caught my eye and smiled warmly.
My stomach turned over.
“Come forward,” the King said.
The Queen didn’t waste time. “It has been weeks since your selection. The Elder Council has raised concerns.” Her voice was precise, each word deliberate. “Without an heir- or signs of progress – they will push to transfer the succession. We do not have the luxury of patience.”
“I understand, Your Majesty.” nderstanding and results are different things.” Her gaze sharpened. “We are arranging physical training for you. A stronger body improves the chances of conception. Additionally, you will undergo weekly medical examinations to track your progress.”
Ophelia stepped forward before anyone else could speak.
“I’d be happy to train her myself.” She smiled at the Queen = easy, familiar, the smile of a favorite daughter. I’m at the grounds every morning. It would be no trouble.”
The Queen’s face softened in a way I’d never seen directed at me. “That would be wonderful, dear.”
I opened my mouth. The Queen’s eyes swung to me, and the softness vanished. I closed my mouth.
My father cleared his throat. “If I may, Your Majesties.” He dipped his head – the picture of a humble Gamma. Lillian’s younger brother misses her terribly. By custom, the Luna Princess may return home for a few days each month. A brief visit might ease her nerves and improve her… cooperation.”
He said cooperation without blinking.
The King nodded. “Arrange it.”
My father bowed. His eyes found mine, and the warmth in them curdled into something specific and cold.
I thought of Ronan. Ten years old. Alone in that packhouse with these people.
“I’d like that,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “I miss home.”
He cornered me in a side corridor before I made it back to Grayson’s wing.
The moment we were alone, the mask dropped. His shoulders shifted. His chin lowered. The polished buttons looked absurd now – costume jewelry on a man who’d never loved anything he couldn’t use.
“Weeks.” His voice went low and flat. “You’ve been here for weeks, and nothing. Do you understand how that makes me look?”
“You sent me here to die.” I kept my voice level. “You traded me to Calvin so Maren could have her Luna ceremony. Don’t stand there and pretend this was about family.”
His hand shot out and gripped my arm. Not hard enough to bruise where it would show. Hard enough to remind me he could.
“Everything I’ve done has been for this family.”
“For your family, for Maren’s! Not mine.”
His fingers tightened. Then he let go and straightened his coat, smoothing the lapels like we were having a pleasant conversation.
“Your brother has been unwell.” His tone shifted – conversational now, almost casual. “Wolf toxin. Nasty business. It suppresses the shift, weakens the muscles and bones.” He examined his cuff. “A growing boy really shouldn’t go untreated for long.”
The corridor shrank around me. My heartbeat was the only sound left.
“He’s ten years old.”
“And he’ll stay alive,” my father said, “as long as you do what you’re told. Conceive. Produce an heir. Be the good, quiet girl you used to be.” He looked up and gave me the smile he used at pack dinners – warm, fatherly, perfect for an audience. “I’ll see you at home in a few days, sweetheart.”
He walked away. His footsteps echoed off the stone.
I stood with my fists shaking and my nails biting crescents into my palms. My wolf threw herself against the walls inside me, snarling
Ronan. Poisoned. Locked up. Getting weaker every day I did nothing.
I was done being quiet. I was going to take my brother away.
The royal escort drove me back to Shadow Creek on a gray morning. Two guards sat in the front of the black car, and neither spoke. I wore my palace tunic with the sleeves rolled, my mother’s locket flat against my collarbone, and a kitchen knife strapped to my calf beneath the trouser leg.
I’d taken it from the servants’ prep area three nights ago. The blade was dull and the handle was cracked wood but it was flat enough to hide and sharp enough to cut. That was all I needed.
Maren was waiting at the packhouse entrance.
She wore a white sundress and Calvin’s mark on her neck – fresh, pink, positioned exactly where my eyes would go. She looked me over slowly, head to toe, the way you’d inspect a stain on expensive fabric.
“Welcome home, sis.” She leaned against the doorframe. “Or I should say – welcome home, breeding machine. She examined her nails. “Calvin and I are planning our Luna ceremony. Next month. White lace, open back, imported shoes.” Her eyes lifted to mine. “You should see the guest list. Everyone who matters. Which, I guess, means you won’t be there.”
I walked past her without a word. My hands were steady. My jaw was tight. I would not give her the satisfaction of a single flinch.
Inside, the packhouse smelled the same – pine floor cleaner and old wood and something faintly sour underneath, like resentment soaked into the walls. Everything was exactly as I’d left it. The same crooked picture frames in the hallway. The same crack in the second stair.
I hated that it still felt familiar.
Calvin appeared within the hour.
He spoke to the royal guards at the front gate – pack hospitality, private family matters, the Luna Princess needs rest and they withdrew to the outer perimeter. By the time I understood what had happened, every person who answered to the Crown was on the wrong side of the packhouse walls.
His hand closed around my upper arm in the hallway.
“Smile,” he murmured. “Let me show you to your room.”
He dragged me up the stairs, through his bedroom door, and threw me onto the bed. The lock clicked. The pleasant expression dropped from his face like paint peeling off a wall.
“I tried the nice way.” He stood between me and the door, hands in his pockets. “Flowers. Apologies. Giving you space. None of it worked, because you don’t respond to nice.” His eyes went flat. “So here’s the version you’ll understand. You’re going to do what I tell you, and you’re going to give me a child. That’s it. That’s the whole plan.
I pushed myself upright on the mattress and reached for my ankle.
More Kickass Werewolf Reads
Dive into our collection of free werewolf romance novels—where fierce Alphas, daring heroines, and heart-stopping twists await. Every story burns with forbidden desire, loyalty, and destiny. Don’t wait—here’s a world where love bites hard and nothing is stronger than the call of the mate.
Leave a Reply