Surrogate Bride To The Alpha Stand-in

Today marked another Blood Moon Festival without Giselle being found. She knew the truth now. Either the witches had seen the power she carried in her womb, or the pack leaders had found out that she was the traitor king's daughter. Either way, she was doomed. No one was coming to save her.

She had refused to tell her husband about the figure who appeared last night or about the dark message it brought.

Giselle was the Luna of the Shadow Fang Pack, and she was a witch with power over ice. The Moon Goddess had said that her child would have the Threefold Gift. But such a gift was tied only to royal families. Her father came from an ancient line of werewolves, the wolf-men. Her mother was a witch. But the Lycan blood remained a mystery. She did not know where it had come from, and she did not know how one child could carry the three most powerful bloodlines and survive in a world this cruel.

Centuries ago, the pack leaders worked with an Ancient One to invade the Lycan kingdom and kill every Lycan. The Lycans were stronger, and for that reason they were hunted. During the betrayal, the royal family was killed, and her father the king was among them. The pack leaders called him a traitor for siding with the Lycans. No one knew that he had left behind a daughter who was born of a witch.

That secret had been hers alone, and she had shared it only with her mate, Alaric.

But if she gave birth, everything would be exposed. The witches would see the prophecy the moment her child took its first breath.

Alpha Alaric burst into their chambers, and the door slammed shut behind him. His mate stood by the arched window with one hand resting on the swell of her belly while the other traced slow circles to soothe the life inside her. Her gaze was fixed on the full moon, which would soon turn red.

"Gather your things," Alaric said, and his voice was low and urgent. "You leave now."

Giselle turned sharply, and her breath caught in her throat. "Leave," she said. "Why. What happened."

"They know your secret," he said, and his tone was grim.

"That is not possible," she said. "No one knew."

"There is no time for this," he said as he grabbed a woolen shawl from the bed. He swept her few possessions into it, and he moved quickly.

"No," she said as she rushed to him and grasped his arm. "We leave together. I will not go without you."

Alaric stopped, and his gaze locked with hers. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, his eyes softened. But then his expression became hard again, and he looked like an Alpha giving orders.

"You must go," he said, and his voice was firm and unyielding.

"Not without you," she said, and her voice cracked. "We can still escape if we leave now before they—"

"Giselle."

The single word stopped her. It was not a plea but a command, and his Alpha tone made her freeze in place and made it hard for her to breathe.

"Please," she whispered, and her voice broke as tears filled her eyes.

Alaric reached for her and held her face in his hands. His thumbs wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I will find you," he said. "By the moon, I swear it. But if they find you here, they will not spare you, and they will not spare the child."

Before she could answer, the door crashed open. Young Miriam, her maid, stood there breathless with her eyes wide with fear.

"The ritual has begun," Miriam said. "The pack leaders are gathering by the fire."

Alaric turned his head toward her. "Take this," he said as he pushed the bundled shawl into the maid's arms.

Then he turned back to Giselle. His hands trembled as they held her face, and his touch was gentle while his eyes showed the weight of everything he could not say.

"I will find you," he said again, and his voice was hoarse. "On my soul, I swear it."

He kissed her then, and it was a desperate kiss that she would remember. Giselle sobbed into the kiss and held him because she wanted to stop what was coming.

"Go," Alaric whispered against her lips, and his voice broke. "Please."

Miriam stepped forward and pulled gently at Giselle's arm.

They had barely reached the garden when Giselle doubled over. A sharp cry came from her as pain shot through her belly.

"Luna," Miriam said as she rushed to steady her.

"The child is coming," Giselle said as she clutched her belly and breathed in short, ragged bursts.

"Breathe, my lady," Miriam said, and her voice was tight with fear. "Hold on. We are near the cave." With a firm grip, she half-dragged and half-guided her mistress across the gravel path and into the darkness.

Giselle was in so much pain that she let herself be led down the narrow passage. The smell of damp earth filled her lungs, and the walls were close around her. At the end of the passage, Miriam stopped.

There stood Lydia Voss, her best friend.

Giselle felt a surge of hope. "Lydia," she said, and hope rose inside her despite the pain.

She took a shaky step forward, and then she stopped.

Something was wrong.

Lydia did not move. Her eyes had once been warm with friendship, but now they were distant and cold. She stared at Giselle without warmth or recognition. From the shadows behind Lydia, wolves emerged, and they were silent and watchful while their eyes showed menace.

Giselle felt cold dread in her stomach. "Lydia," she whispered.

The woman she had once called sister tilted her head.

"Please," Giselle said, and her voice trembled. "You do not have to do this. Think of the child."

Lydia's lips parted into a smile, and that smile was bitter and empty.

"If you want to avoid harm or keep the child safe, you will come with us," she said, and her voice was cool as though she were giving an order.

Giselle stared at her, and she could not believe what she was seeing. This could not be the same woman who had stood beside her at her crowning and who had sworn loyalty under the moon.

Then Miriam stepped forward from Giselle's side, and her voice was sharp.

"How dare you block the Luna's path," Miriam said. "Stand aside, traitor."

Lydia laughed.

"After tonight," she said, and her voice was cold, "she will be no such thing."

Giselle's chest tightened. "Why," she said. "Why are you doing this. We were friends. You—"

"Stop, Giselle," Lydia said. "You are wrong. I was never your friend."

The words shocked Giselle, and she felt them deeply.

Giselle stepped back. "That cannot be," she whispered, and her eyes showed her disbelief. "Tell me this is a lie. Tell me there is still something true between us."

But Lydia's eyes were hard in the moonlight.

"In our world, my dear," Lydia said, "we do not wait for fate to favor us. We take what we want. I was promised to Alaric, and he was mine by every right until you came and made him want you."

Giselle's lips parted, but no sound came out.

"So," Lydia said as she stepped forward, "I found a faster way to get the future I was denied. By giving you to the pack leaders, I have secured my place in the new order. Through you, I will get what I want."

A terrible silence fell between them.

"Now," Lydia said, and her voice dropped to a whisper, "do not make this harder. Come with us, or bleed here where you stand."

Giselle felt unsteady on her feet, and her knees buckled as another contraction seized her. But she clenched her jaw and stood firm as she used the last of her strength.

She had known, and Lydia had known she was the werewolf princess. Now, nothing would hold her back.

Lydia stepped forward.

Giselle moved back, and her heel caught on the uneven stone. "Stay back," she whispered, and her voice trembled.

Lydia's eyes showed cruel delight. "Do not fight this," she said. "It will only hurt more."

Before Giselle could reply, Miriam moved between them, and her small body was stiff with defiance. "You will not touch her," she said, and her voice was cold. "Not while I still breathe."

Lydia's smile changed. "As you wish," she said.

With a flick of her wrist, her nails grew into curved claws that glinted in the low light.

There was no time to react. Lydia struck, and her claws went into Miriam's chest. The impact threw Miriam against the cavern wall with a loud thud, and she fell to the ground without a sound.

"No," Giselle screamed.

Lydia turned to her again, and with a silent signal, she sent the wolves forward.

But inside Giselle, something old and cold woke up. Her power rose up inside her, and with a cry, she threw her arms wide.

A blast of freezing air exploded from her, and that blast was filled with ice shards and frost. The wolves flew back, and they howled as they hit the stone. The ground shook, and frost spread across the cave floor and up the walls.

Dust fell from the ceiling, and the air became cold.

Yet Lydia stood in front of her, and her smile did not change.

From her skirt, she pulled a crystal that pulsed with cold, strange light.

"Do not waste what little strength you have left," Lydia said. "It will be over soon."

The crystal glowed with a white, bright light.

Giselle screamed as the light burned into her mind. The cold inside her was ripped away from her, and she felt as though her very being was being pulled apart. Her body gave out beneath her.

She fell to her knees, and her breath came in shallow gasps.

Her limbs went numb, and the frost that had answered her call now left her.

Darkness appeared at the edges of her vision.

The last thing she saw was Miriam's broken body on the ground, and she saw Lydia's smile, which was triumphant and cruel.

Then everything went silent.