Lycan Prince’s Secret Baby (Moonlit Forbidden Love #1)

Chapter 5

Leah

I carefully wove around the fallen pine cones, conscious of each step and trying to avoid crunching them underfoot. The scent of yellow cedar and mountain hemlock mingled in the cool night air, a fragrant reminder of the approaching fall.

Behind me, the Moonlight area, lit up like a Christmas tree, felt like a searchlight on my back. A chill crept down my spine. I crept closer to the Blood Moon quarters, my pulse quickening.

Surely my luck is wearing thin.

The thought clutched at me, but my promise to my people kept me moving onward. For two weeks, I had slipped out of Kyle’s home each night; each excursion a small rebellion against the servitude binding me and my people. With each step closer to the wooden cluster of buildings that was our home, my tension eased, yet I remained cautious, painfully aware of the Moonlight patrol roaming the lands. I flitted from one dim corner to the next, minimizing my exposure to the pale glow of the lights.

Our structures had always been built from wood out of respect for the land and the forest’s gifts. Each log had been prepared with gratitude—a connection to Igaluk, who we believed lived on in the walls of our homes. But now, the huts stood in disrepair, the neglect reflecting a community that mirrored its crumbled shell. Since we had been enslaved, the Moonlight Pack had relegated us to these remote structures—close enough to be watched but far enough away that we weren’t an eyesore. Many of these buildings hadn’t even been designed as houses but rather as workshops and storage sheds.

Finally, I approached the cabin I sought. With a glance over my shoulder, I pushed open the weather-beaten door, careful not to linger. The damp, musty scent hit me first, an unwelcome reminder of how little care these quarters received. The confined space held five rickety beds and flimsy mattresses, old bedding, and a few tatty rugs—nowhere near enough to disguise that this place was nothing more than a hovel. Coming from Kyle’s clean, well-kept house, the contrast was jarring.

Yet, as the dim lantern light revealed the familiar faces of the Watson grandparents, my heart lightened. Amanda and Tom were nestled in separate beds, their expressions weary until they recognized me. In the beds opposite, their three grandchildren lay asleep.

“Leah, dear,” Amanda whispered, her blue eyes sparkling. Tom smiled gently, his voice hushed. “I’ll wake ’em.”

A smile crept across my face, knowing that news had reached them that I was coming. My gaze shifted to the sleeping children, and a sharp pang of sorrow shot through me. This was a typical Blood Moon family these days—fractured. Amanda and Tom’s daughter and son-in-law had been lost to the war, leaving the elderly couple to raise their grandchildren. At this moment, my parents’ absence felt like a raw wound that not even the rarest Silver Moon herbs would ever heal me of. But it was this pain that drove me to fight for our people.

The little girl was the first to stir, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Tom cautioned her. “Remember to keep quiet. There’s someone here with a surprise for you and your brothers.”

I hurried over, anxious for the children to stay warm beneath the blankets. In a heartbeat, the three of them were sitting up—two boys, aged nine and seven, and the little girl, who was four. I felt a twinge of guilt as I distributed the meager rations, a handful of chunks of meat each.

The girl took a bite. “Tastes like chicken.”

The younger boy chuckled. “Don’t be a doofus, Mia. That ain’t chicken.”

The older boy’s solemn expression contrasted sharply with his siblings. His face, already thin and worn, reflected a seriousness well beyond his years. I sensed that he was all too attuned to why we adults didn’t know whether to smile or cringe at the girl’s comment. Chicken was the only meat she’d ever tasted because the Moonlights only gave us the cheapest off-cuts. She’d never experienced life any other way—she had only known the life of a slave.

“And does a chicken go oink oink?” Her grandfather joked, coming to the rescue. Tom’s lined face seemed to carry the weight of despair while his eyes tried to impart hope to the children.

Mia’s eyes lit up. “Like the three little pigs?” she enthused, her eyes brightening at discovering something new.

“That’s right, dear. Just like the three little pigs,” Amanda said.

All the children tucked in with gusto. The youngest boy whispered around a mouthful. “This is like a midnight snack.”

My heart bled for everything these kids were missing out on. His comment sparked a dozen memories of my own childhood. My best friend, Roman, and I used to favor a midnight snack, and later when we got older, some beers. I remembered how we used to pilfer home-cured jerky and beers from his parents’ fridge—an act that had felt daring as Roman’s father was the Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack.

Another wave of loss swept through me. I hadn’t seen my best friend in three years. Roman had been fortunate, escaping just before the Blood Moon Pack was enslaved. He and a number of Blood Moons had escaped after the chaos of the peace negotiations following Kyle’s mother’s death. How I longed for my friend and for answers about that fateful day when the war had erupted.

I forced myself not to dwell on things I couldn’t change. Instead, I focused on the children’s delight in their snacks, enjoying the warmth and gratitude connecting us all.

Shuffling back to Amanda’s bedside, I lowered my voice. “How’s Mary?”

“Doing well, dear. Tom said she did fine again in the kitchen today.”

Her words brought relief. I’d heard whispers of Mary’s recovery from other pack members while visiting them each night. Knowing she was back on her feet took a weight off my chest.

“I don’t know what we’d do without you and the other young ones,” Amanda whispered. “Your mom and dad would be so proud.”

I swallowed hard, feeling a lump in my throat. Not knowing how to respond, I squeezed her hand, and we smiled as the two boys started to do impressions of the Big Bad Wolf blowing down the little pigs’ houses, much to their sister’s delight.

When I’d lived with my pack, I often gave my rations to those in need. Since getting to Kyle’s, and with the substantial amounts he left for me, I felt compelled to share them. My wolf relished Kyle’s behavior, howling that he was leaving it behind for me. However, a part of me knew that eating it would taste like ash on my tongue when there were others far more in need.

Tom reminded the kids to keep their voices down. Then he returned to his bed, tugging his blankets higher up to ward off the chill. Even in my overalls and shirt, the cold night air nipped at me.

My gaze brushed Tom’s tired-looking face. As I looked more closely at him and Amanda, I realized they looked more worn and frail than the last time I’d seen them a couple of weeks ago.

“They’ve decreased the rations again, haven’t they?” I asked.

Tom’s expression tightened, but he nodded.

All Blood Moons had to work. Tom worked in the kitchens with me while Amanda was in the laundry. The food allocated to us by the Moonlights had always been insufficient for the amount of work we did daily, and it was always dwindling.

“By the goddess,” I swore, hastily lowering my voice as the kids’ eyes flew to me.

When the three children returned to their huffing and puffing, I said, “It’s Elder Sam; I know it. He’s embezzling our rations and selling herbs for profit on the side.”

Tom grimaced. “Hush now, Leah. Don’t say such things.”

Amanda’s eyes were fearful, too. “Tom’s right. You know what happened to Ronda and Jake. Please, be careful.”

A flash of memory struck me. Ronda, a Blood Moon who had worked in construction, and Jake, who’d been on forestry duty, had been locked up after they’d been caught “stealing.” For years, there had been rumors around the slave quarters about how Elder Sam was siphoning off tribal resources and money and then framing Blood Moons. We knew that Sam was in charge of finances and distributing our rations. We’d long suspected he was embezzling every time our rations were cut.

I wasn’t the first scapegoat, but as I remembered Sam’s accusations against me—of taking herbs from the infirmary and selling them—resentment simmered through me, making it hard to promise I would remain silent.

But my need to find a suitable answer for the Watsons was swept away as the cabin door swung open. My heart pounded. For a horrible moment, I thought it was the Moonlight patrol—or worse, Elder Sam. Had they overheard us? Would I be dragged before Sam? Was I about to disappear like Jake and Ronda?

The silhouette framed in the doorway was tall and solid—a flash of ebony hair and the sharp jawline told me in a heartbeat it was Kyle. My chest tightened at his fierce presence. Astonishment coursed through me. How much did he know about my night-time excursions?

His electric gaze swept over me, as penetrating as the lights of the Moonlight compound. I felt bare under his scrutiny. My instincts flared in response, but as always with him, they were conflicted. I didn’t know whether to scowl or step toward him.

Then, Mia’s little voice broke the silence. “Have you brought more pig with you like Leah?”

Amanda and Tom both winced. The two boys dove under the covers as if evading the Big Bad Wolf—which, I supposed, was precisely what Kyle was. The air crackled with tension between us, and I didn’t know whether it was my wolf responding to this charge or the anger still simmering within me at the thought of Sam’s wrongdoing, but my voice came out defiant. “I didn’t steal anything,” I asserted, meeting Kyle’s fierce gaze head-on. “I merely re-distributed your leftovers.” Each word felt heavy as the pressure mounted.

My chest tightened with uncertainty as the silence stretched out. Had my wolf misread Kyle’s protectiveness in leaving food for me? Perhaps, after all, he hadn’t deliberately left those morsels but had been displeased by the standard.

As the seconds ticked by, the silence grazed my skin. Kyle’s emerald stare seared into me, heating my body. I was reminded of the moment in the Council Chamber when our eyes had met for the first time. This charged feeling zipping between us was the same. Yet, as his stare branded me, I was certain I was about to receive far worse punishment.