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

Chapter 8

Kyle

After Leah fainted, a surge of clarity jolted through my senses like a bolt of lightning. The heady obliteration of our passion evaporated, leaving only one reality: Leah was limp in my arms like a ragdoll. Panic clawed its way up my throat as I cradled her, my mind racing to process the whirlwind of events that had spiraled so quickly out of control.

We had kissed. The memory was seared into my mind. My lips were bruised, and our heat and yearning were so potent I swore my body was still vibrating with aftershocks. Just moments ago, the world had receded into a delicious haze of desire; now, ice seeped through my veins as the horror of Leah’s unconscious form took hold.

“Leah? Leah?” My voice sliced the eerie stillness, urgency knotting my stomach. With my heart rattling in my ribcage, I pressed my fingers against her wrist, praying for a steady beat. What I felt beneath my fingertips was weak—a faltering pulse that sent fresh waves of dread crashing over me.

With reflexes honed from years of pack training, I sprang into action, lifting her slight form and rushing toward the infirmary. My heart pounded, not from exertion but from a creeping, icy fear that wrapped itself around me, squeezing tighter with each desperate stride.

The familiar yet stale air of the infirmary greeted me, but I barely registered it. My world narrowed to Leah’s shallow breaths, my only focus.

Healer Maria was there, and her stalwart and familiar figure sent a jolt of relief through me. Clad in tailored slacks and a floral blouse, she radiated the same neat efficiency I had come to rely on since childhood. I was reminded of the many times she had been present for those moonlit nights when I had first shifted and learned to master my wolf.

“Maria!” I gasped. “Leah passed out. Her pulse is weak.”

“Lay her here on the bed,” Maria instructed. Her hazel eyes were sharp with focus.

I followed her instructions, gently placing Leah on the crisp white sheets. My gaze lingered on her pale face, her delicate features now drained of color. Panic churned through me. Why was she so pale? My mind raced back to earlier. I’d checked that she’d eaten earlier. I always lingered in the doorway of my study whenever she took her meals. I knew she was eating her full rations now instead of giving them away. My heart squeezed at the thought of her brave, reckless courage that had driven her to give away so much of her rations.

Terror shredded my insides. What if giving away so much for so long had done lasting damage to her body? My stomach clenched as a dozen scenarios of Leah remaining in this bed, wasting away, plagued me. My imaginings were only kept in check because the methodical movements of the healer’s hands, deft and practiced, told me that Maria would soon have the answers I needed. I hovered on one side of Leah’s bed as Healer Maria inserted a needle, attaching an IV drip to Leah’s arm.

I’d seen other shifters treated with such means, but seeing the needle injected into Leah’s arm and her lying so still and looking so fragile sent a surge of protectiveness through me. “What’s that for?” I demanded, the edge of worry creeping into my tone.

“She’s dehydrated,” Maria replied, her voice steady as she focused on her task. “I need to get fluids into her to bring her temperature down.”

Nodding, I tried to suppress the whirlwind of emotion tearing through me. Restlessness forced me to move, and I began to pace, the rhythm of my footsteps echoing through the infirmary.

“Kyle, would you get a blanket out of the cupboard?” Maria asked. Her tone was firm, breaking the anxiety-laden silence. “We need to keep her warm despite the high temperature.”

Grateful for something to do, I moved to retrieve a blanket. Carefully, I swept the soft fabric over Leah’s still form, my throat tightening as I tucked it around her. With each pass of my fingers against her skin, the weight of protectiveness settled deeper into my chest.

It felt like an eternity before Maria finished jotting down her notes and turned her sharp yet warm gaze on me. Her hazel eyes were clear and calm, but there was something else in them. My heart was in my throat as I asked, “Just tell me, please. What’s wrong with her?”

“Leah’s long suffered from malnutrition, Kyle,” Maria said, her voice steady.

My pulse drummed. This had something to do with how we Moonlights had deprived her. Was her body irrevocably damaged because of our neglect? Guilt churned through me. A neglect I had been part of.

“So, it’s the stress put on her body from being undernourished that caused her to faint?” I asked.

“No,” Maria said, her brow knitting. “Her estrus is what caused her to faint. Even in my human form, I can scent her high levels of estrogen and progesterone. When she passed out, she was in a highly receptive state.”

I blinked, realization crashing over me.

Estrus, as in, Leah is in heat.

How could I have been so oblivious? I’d had Leah under my roof for a month. A part of a shifter female’s monthly cycle was that she came into heat—something that would have been magnified by the mating bond connecting us calling to be sated.

Heat flooded my face. Awkwardness hung in the air between the healer and me.

“Kyle, if there’s anything you’d like to talk to me about in confidence, I hope you know you can,” Maria said, her ordinarily neutral tone shifting into something more empathetic.

By Igaluk, this is like talking to my mom about sex.

Maria had been a close friend of my mother’s and was a highly respected elder of the pack. She hadn’t just been there for my first shifts, but she had been a frequent visitor in our household. She and my mother had been as thick as thieves and hardly ever apart. I could picture them so vividly, sitting at the old wooden table in our kitchen, sharing pots of tea and laughter. Earlier, when Leah surprised me by mentioning the treasure trove of tea, it was a memory of my mother laughing with Maria over a steeping pot of tea and mugs that had struck me.

I pushed past the awkwardness and shook my head. “No, I’m fine, honestly,” I rushed to assure her. I tried to find a way to justify the desperation I knew I’d inadvertently betrayed when I’d brought Leah into the infirmary, thinking the worst. “It’s just… I want to make sure the mistreatment Leah and the others have received doesn’t do long-term damage. I thought maybe Leah, with her malnourishment, was experiencing organ failure or something. I panicked.”

Maria regarded me earnestly, her piercing gaze seeming to ask for the truth.

The question that had been ringing through me since I’d set foot in the infirmary tumbled out. “Will she recover?”

“Yes, she’ll be fine once her body is rehydrated and rests,” she stated—a promise that stilled the rising tide of fear within me. The icy grip of dread loosened its hold, freeing my heart from its clutches.

“You know, you’re so like Tamara, Kyle,” Maria observed, her voice softening.

My heart squeezed at the sound of my mother’s name. I was so unused to it being said these days.

Maria continued, “The way you’ve thrown yourself behind these reforms for the Blood Moons is inspiring. She would be so proud if she could see how much change you’ve brought about in only a couple of months of being back with us.”

A warm glow filled my chest at her words, but it only served to remind me of the emotional whiplash I had just experienced. I turned my gaze away from Maria. The threat of my throat tightening was telling me that everything had been too much lately.

Goddess, I miss you, Mom.

Feeling like I had my emotions under wraps again, I said, “I miss her, Tlaak’w ,” I said, using the old pack word for Auntie. The ancient words for family were one of the few remembered in the goddess’s language, passed down in ancient texts, the oldest of which were held by the Silver Moon University. My mother had encouraged me to use the term of endearment with Maria when I was growing up.

“Me too, Irniq .” My heart squeezed. She used the word for son, not nephew, perhaps knowing how much I missed being called it. For a moment, it felt as if we were back before, before the war, before we’d lost my mother, and Maria had lost her best friend.

Maria’s voice drifted wistfully. “Tamara really was one of the most talented leaders, you know—one of those rare individuals that only come around once in a blue moon,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips. “She led with a drive that was more Alpha than Luna. Your father doesn’t have that kind of initiative. Our pack is worse off today without her, both in prosperity and power.”

Memories came back to me. Mark had been catching me up on pack politics last month, detailing how Maria had been a fervent advocate for increasing female representation on the council. Out of ten elders, there were only two women, herself included, in a world that had grown increasingly rigid. Mark told me that my father had butted heads with Maria about this on more than a few occasions in the last year.

Her hazel eyes focused on me with determination. “The reforms you’ve already instigated in the Blood Moon Pack—those are just the beginning. I believe you can be as great a leader as your mother, Kyle, and elevate our pack to true greatness.”

Astonishment wound through me. To have Elder Maria, my strong, determined motherly figure, say that she saw a reflection of my mother in me sent a rush of exhilaration through my veins. I had been yearning to live up to my mother’s legacy for so long. Receiving this praise filled something of the hole I’d felt ever since my mother passed.

“But Kyle,” she continued, the gravity of her expression deepening, “I don’t want you to forget that the Blood Moon Pack took Tamara’s life. I don’t want to see you bind your future with one of them.” The weight of her warning filled the space between us, heavy and unavoidable. The knowing look she cast over Leah’s frail form made me acutely aware of the undertow of my conflicting emotions.

Shame cascaded through me. The last thing I wanted was to confirm my burgeoning feelings for a Blood Moon—a direct contradiction of everything I had been taught. Admitting such a truth felt akin to tearing apart my mother’s memory. I also knew the elders disapproved of my attempts to change tradition. How much more vehemently would they oppose me if they learned I was involved with a member of the Blood Moon Pack? And what of Leah? If our connection was unveiled, how much hatred would be directed her way from my pack? As I looked at my Tlaak’w , I refused to admit such a thing.

“Absolutely not,” I swore vehemently, my voice sharp in my own ears. “I promise that when Leah wakes up, I’ll send her back to her original duties. I don’t need her any longer. She’s no threat. I don’t need to monitor her, and her presence is more of a hindrance than a help.” I swallowed hard, forcing down the betrayal of my wolf, who howled in protest, angry and defiant against the words pouring out of my mouth.

The weight of my own lies pressed heavily on my chest, suffocating and oppressive. I could feel Maria’s keen gaze challenging the authenticity of my words.

“I’m pleased to hear it, Kyle,” she said simply, but her tone only deepened the pit forming in my stomach.

But I had brought Leah into my house because it was my duty to ensure the moon goddess’s justice was served by us council members. The circumstances of Leah’s thievery had been suspect. I’d kept her close in case she posed a threat to my pack. I tried to ignore the rumble in the back of my mind that told me Leah had never truly been a threat, and I’d always known that.

“Then, I think you can get going, Kyle. I’ll let you know when she’s discharged so she can retrieve her belongings from yours,” Maria said, sounding like her usual brusque self.

I nodded, forcing an air of nonchalance that felt painfully hollow. “Of course. It’s no skin off my nose.” Yet my heart knew better, beating erratically with each pulse of longing. I forced my feet to move, leaving Leah in Maria’s care.

She wasn’t my responsibility anymore, I told myself. She should never have been. But my wolf knew I was lying. Leah was more than a responsibility. She was everything I had been molded to despise and everything I found myself desperately wanting to embrace.