LOGINLena has spent her life hidden away from the noisy life of the black moon pack. Mocked for her chubby body in a world where beauty means survival. Living under her aunt’s cruelty, she only wants peace, not attention. But when Alpha Damon,feared, ruthless, and rumored to be cursed fails to find a mate, his Beta arrives demanding Lena becomes the Luna and bears the Alpha’s pup since she’s also mateless . Lena’s aunt offers her up without hesitation. Terrified of being bound to a monster, Lena runs into the woods, desperate for freedom. Instead, she collides with a towering black wolf with silver eyes. Filled with fear and dread, she falls unconscious out of fear. When she wakes, the truth becomes clear. Escaping Damon may be impossible because the beast might be hers.
View MoreIt came to me suddenly like a whisper carried on the wind.My aunt. I had not seen her in a long while.Between war, peace treaties, pregnancies, losses, and celebrations, time had slipped past me. Yet she had once been one of the few remnants of my mother’s world , the only blood relative who still lived within reach.“I want to visit my aunt,” I told Eloise one quiet afternoon.Eloise looked up from where she had been sorting herbs for tea.“Today?”“Yes. I don’t know why, but I feel like I should.”She smiled softly. “Then let’s go. I’ll come with you.”I didn’t hesitate to agree.The walk through the pack grounds was slow but pleasant. The air was warm, and my steps were careful but steady. My belly had grown beautifully round now, impossible to ignore ,and impossible for others not to notice.We had barely crossed the courtyard when two older pack women approached us.“Luna!” one of them called warmly.I smiled. They bowed lightly before straightening.“You are glowing,” the seco
What really does the future holds?Pregnancy changes a woman, but loss changes her even more.Though my belly had grown beautifully round and my cravings had become almost comical, there were nights when I lay awake staring at the ceiling, my palm resting protectively over my stomach, fear whispering quietly in the dark.I had once carried life before, and I had once lost it.No amount of joy from the pack, no reassurances from Damon, no steady peace across Red Moon could fully silence that memory. It lived somewhere deep inside me though not sharp anymore, but present.This child felt stronger, heavier, and more insistent.But uncertainty does not disappear simply because hope grows.It walks beside it.That was why, the evening after supper, I finally turned to Damon.“I want to see the seer,” I told him gently.He did not respond immediately. His jaw tightened slightly, the way it always did when something unsettled him.“You are healthy,” he said. “The doctor sees no issue.”“I k
There is a different kind of strength in women who carry life.I saw it clearly that afternoon as I stood in the garden watching them arrive one by one with hands resting on rounded bellies, babies balanced on hips, laughter already floating through the warm air.This tea gathering had become a tradition.The first time I organized it, I had been pregnant with my first child , scared, nervous, unsure, overwhelmed by everything my body was becoming. I had needed guidance. Needed community. Needed to know I was not alone.So I created one.Now, carrying life again, I decided it would no longer be occasional.It would be a norm.Low tables had been arranged beneath the flowering trees. Cushions were placed carefully on the grass. Porcelain teacups gleamed beside plates of fruit, warm bread, and honey cakes. The air smelled of chamomile and mint.Pregnant women, nursing mothers, and young wives who hoped to conceive soon. All gathered together.And this time, Eloise sat among them.I watc
The months passed not with thunder, but with ripening.Summer deepened over Red Moon, turning the fields golden and the nights warm and slow. Life no longer felt fragile. It felt steady, predictable, and almost gentle.True to her word, Aria never forgot.Messengers from Iron Crest arrived at least twice a month , sometimes more, bearing woven baskets heavy with fruit, jars of honey sealed in wax, and clay bottles of fresh milk wrapped carefully in cloth.The first time it happened, I had cried.The second time, I laughed. By the fifth, it had become tradition.“She’s spoiling you,” Damon had muttered once as he inspected a particularly extravagant basket overflowing with figs and pomegranates.“She’s nourishing your heir,”I corrected, already reaching for a peach.Now, my pregnancy was impossible to ignore.My belly had grown round and proud, stretching beneath flowing dresses. My steps were slower, and my appetite was relentless.I ate at dawn, i ate at noon, and ate before bed.And












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