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

Chapter 23

Kyle

Lina grasped my hand with her tiny fingers, and a shockwave of recognition shuddered through me. A profound and mysterious connection linked us—a thread woven deep into the essence of my being, one that had danced alongside her in the dreamscape we had shared during the infusion of our wolves’ spirits.

As I studied her closely, my heart tightened with the realization that her resemblance to Leah was striking. Lina’s wide blue eyes matched her mother’s to a T. Other than in the dream, I’d never looked into her eyes. The most Lina had moved during her treatments was to fidget or let out an anguished cry amidst feverish dreams.

But now, her big blues were drinking me in, mirroring my own searching gaze. I traced the line of her little nose. It was there I found the slight curve, the angle—something I had missed before that looked faintly like mine. I greedily mapped her face, brushing her high forehead and the delicate shape of her chin. Dark strands of hair that peeked out from her swaddle caught my eye for the first time, so different from Leah’s fiery red or Roman’s dark brown. It was like the night had wrapped around her—jet-black, just like mine.

Recognition flared through me, an awakening. Lina looked a lot like me. The dawning realization mingled with the warm aftermath of the connection we had forged in Lina’s dreamscape. Instinct roared through me; the soft touch of Lina’s tiny fingers burrowed into my palm, her grasp the very essence of preciousness. An astonishing hope struck me: Was Lina truly my child? Was she mine and Leah’s?

Just then, the door opened. For a moment, I thought it was Lyvia coming to add her incantation to our treatment. But the interruption was even less welcome. Roman strode in, oblivious to the charged atmosphere, wrapping his arm around Leah and Lina.

“ Ata’s here.” The Alpha’s voice was smooth, casual, and absent of any reverence for the goddess’s word, Ataata —father. Daddy is here.

With that simple utterance, he shattered the fragile moment. Anger surged through me; my instincts screamed to protect my daughter. I had teetered on the edge of enlightenment, and Roman was threatening to shove me back into the abyss, usurping my rightful place. After the conversation with Leah the other day, I might have allowed it, but now, after the infusion and the kiss we’d shared, I couldn’t let it happen.

Roman’s movements disrupted the delicate connection I had just forged with Lina; her grip slipped from my hand, and suddenly, the spell was broken. The desire to confront Roman’s audacity surged through me.

But as a storm of emotions raged in my heart, I redirected my focus to Leah. She was on the verge of slipping away, and I positioned myself in her line of escape. “Leah, is Lina mine?” The question burst forth, desperate and raw.

Confusion flickered across her face before she masked it with defensive resolve, pulling Lina protectively against her chest. “No, Kyle. You know she’s mine and Roman’s,” she asserted.

Hurt flooded me. How could she say that, especially after the vision we had shared? We’d sat together on the banks of the river in the Blood Moon Pack lands. I leaned back on my hands, taking in the serene beauty of the moment. Leah looked radiant, her fiery red hair catching the sunlight and cascading over her fair skin. I reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, my heart swelling as she smiled at me. Nestled in her arms was little Lina, bundled up snugly in a blanket. I couldn’t contain my grin as I met the baby’s bright blue gaze, so like Leah’s.

I made silly faces that made Lina erupt in soft giggles. Her laughter sent a wave of joy washing over me, and I felt the rush of pride swelling within my chest. Then, I enveloped my girls in a hug, laughter spilling from them both.

“My beautiful girls,” I murmured, pulling them closer, our joy echoing in the air, mingling with the gentle ripples of the river beside us.

This was my family, my heart, and here, in this perfect moment, I’d found bliss. I had witnessed something transcendent, something that hinted at the truth of our bond, solidifying our connection in ways I would never forget.

Roman mirrored Leah’s assertion, bringing me hurtling back into the present and adding unwelcome weight to her words. “Kyle, we’ve already been through this.” The conviction in his tone felt like he was crushing me in the ring. Yet, he hadn’t been present a moment ago; he hadn’t witnessed what we had.

Suddenly, Lina’s cries pierced the air, her small fists flailing and reaching for me. My heart clenched painfully as her wails clawed at me, calling to that primal part of me that knew her now.

“I know you’re lying.” My growl was directed at Roman, the urgency in my voice echoing the turmoil inside me.

Roman’s unwavering expression faltered momentarily, fatigue creeping into his azure gaze. “I can’t pretend any longer,” he finally admitted. He looked at Leah, his voice softening, “I can’t stand to be a fake father anymore.”

With those words, the air shifted. He stepped away from us, positioning himself near the door. “I think you need to have a chat by yourselves. I’ll be in the hall, Leah.” With a final warning glare directed at me, he departed.

In Roman’s absence, the atmosphere lightened minutely, though Lina continued to cry. My instincts took charge, and my hand shot out, desperate to soothe her and restore the bond we’d barely begun to form.

But Leah recoiled, her body tensing as if struck. My stomach churned with disappointment. She clutched Lina closer, her gentle shushing mingling with the tension in the air. I longed to bridge the distance, to become the father I felt I was deep in my bones. But I had to respect Leah’s desire for space.

Patience warred against my mounting frustration. I chose to sit at Leah’s writing desk, seeking to honor her personal boundaries while chaos swirled within me. The way she had flinched earlier stunned me, a visceral reaction that tightened my throat. Confusion gripped me; how could she go from kissing me, from sharing such an intense connection to flinching away?

I watched her rock Lina in her arms, longing for the moment our hands and auras had intertwined. I wondered why she fought her wolf’s instincts so fiercely. But I realized that now was not the time for discussions about our kiss or that primal attraction. Right now, I needed the answer to the most important question: the truth about Lina’s paternity. My stomach somersaulted at Roman’s earlier words, “I can’t stand to be a fake father anymore.” He’d admitted his role was a mask, and deep down, I knew the truth echoed in my heart. I just needed Leah’s confirmation.

Eventually, Lina began to settle, her tiny form succumbing to slumber. With evident reluctance, Leah placed her back in the bassinet. As I watched, I recalled Leah’s protective posture the first night I’d arrived when she’d stood in my bedroom, clutching Lina as though shielding both of them from me.

The determined glint in Leah’s eyes re-emerged; the walls surrounding her heart seemed as formidable as ever. “Lina is my everything. I won’t let you take her away from me.”

My heart lurched. What kind of monster did she believe me to be? “I would never take a child away from her mother,” I defended, anguish threading through my voice.

Yet, she struck back, her tone brutal, “Damn right you won’t. I’ll fight for her with every breath and bone in my body. Your only duty as a father is to help cure her.”

Though her words were edged with ice, they ignited a warmth within me.

I am Lina’s father.

I felt it in my core. Happiness zipped through me as I relished hearing it from Leah’s lips, too.

“My heart soared when I saw her in the dream,” I said, my voice thick with emotion as I recalled the wondrous magic that had unfolded in this very room. The walls—the calming pale yellow, the earthy blankets of the bed and those swaddling Lina, and the papers strewn on the desk, filled with Leah’s artful sketches of flowers and herbs—were all imbued with a tender magic I longed to explore.

But Leah’s expression hardened, and she refused to acknowledge any softness. “Other than Lina’s treatments, I don’t want you involved in anything else. Do I make myself clear?” The finality of that statement carved a fissure into my heart. How could she separate me from my child?

A sudden realization crashed over me. Leah and Roman had managed to manipulate me into treating Lina. They’d claimed they needed the essence of one who had robbed them of their pack lands. Yet, the truth struck me: I was here because I was Lina’s father. Only my essence could heal her.

Rage flared within me. If it hadn’t been for Lina’s illness, I might never have known of her existence. I swallowed hard, fighting to tamp down my anger. Part of me longed to plant my feet and refuse to move.

But Leah moved to the door, avoiding my gaze as she opened it, her actions dismissing me from her life.

So, she’s back to not looking at me.

I stalked out, passing Roman in the hall—a towering figure, waiting for me to leave, too. His earlier words echoed in my mind, “Ata’s here.” The phrase grazed my skin. It stung knowing this man might become “father” to Lina while I was forced to remain on the outside.

Fury ignited afresh. It took every ounce of willpower to walk away from him, knowing I was in danger of doing something that could fracture the peace of this pack I’d so recently been invited into.

With an agitated breath, I reached my room. My heart raced, and my thoughts collided.

Lina’s mine. I’m a father.

Almost as soon as I stepped inside, a deluge of memories I’d locked away broke free. I remembered Leah’s beautiful bare body against mine and the intimacy we had shared in those moments. The heat of our union had felt divine, yet in its aftermath, I’d been the one to dishonor it. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. It was your estrus. Stay away from me.” The words I’d thrown at her after we’d made love tormented me, bringing fresh waves of shame crashing over me.

It had been me who had wrongly doubted her back then, turning her into an enemy in my mind. I recalled the coldness I had displayed the day I had suspected her and how I had abandoned her when she needed me most. I had merely stood by when my father interrogated her, letting her be imprisoned.

Bitter remorse clawed at my insides. I had failed her during her most vulnerable moments when she needed my protection and love. The stark reality sank in. I had walked away from my own mate and unborn child when they needed me most.

With sudden clarity, the memory of the nightmares I’d suffered from during Leah’s captivity returned. I’d dreamed of snow-covered trees through which a devastating scream had shrieked. I realized now that I had been seeing my mate’s nightmares. From connecting to Leah and Lina during these infusions of spirit, my soul-deep connection told me I’d glimpsed her fears back then. She must have feared that once my father and the Moonlights discovered her pregnancy, they’d take her baby from her and abandon it.

Amidst the sorrow, admiration for Leah’s resilience sparked through me. Her bravery and indomitable spirit in enduring captivity was inspiring. I could hardly fathom the strength it must have taken to escape and to protect our child from my father’s grasp. I couldn’t blame her for how she was reacting now. The past was littered with my failures, and I could only try to remedy it by showing how wrong I’d been.

But even amidst these somber reflections, a spark of hope ignited. I refused to give up on winning Leah back. Despite Roman being in the picture, that recent kiss lingered on my lips, reminding me that Leah still felt something for me. I could sense that wonderful light of possibility stretching out before us. I had a chance.

Determined, I threw myself into learning everything I could about caring for Lina. I sought out Lyvia, the witch, to absorb whatever knowledge she was willing to share. Every time she cradled Lina while Leah napped, I watched carefully, studying the way she nestled the baby in her arms and the soft songs she sang that lulled Lina to sleep. I never overstepped Leah’s directive about not being involved, reminding myself that I had to respect the boundaries she’d laid down. But I was determined to take notes.

The warmth of the communal kitchen, bustling with life and laughter, echoed with the chatter of the women preparing meals, their hands moving gracefully through piles of herbs and dicing vegetables, turning simple ingredients into comfort and nourishment. With each unassuming moment that unfolded, hope began to fill me like the aroma of stew wafting through the air. I soon started to help the women during my daily visits to the kitchen, learning to create dishes that I hoped one day I might make for my daughter. Soon, I was wielding spatulas more than my claws, spending more of my time in the kitchen than in the caverns.

Yet, beneath the busy surface of the kitchen’s buzz, tension continued to climb in me. Each day felt like I was on a knife’s edge—worried that it would prove the day that Lina was healed and Leah cast me out of their lives forever.