The Playboy’s True Queen Luna

Wendy’s POV

This time, I’m definitely escaping back to my pack.

I stand by the window and estimate the drop—about ten feet. No problem. I can land that easily. According to my planning, this is the perfect opportunity to make my escape. Uncle Killian is probably fast asleep by now,  and the border guards will be changing shifts in eight minutes. 

Which means this  is my one and only chance.

Eight minutes. Just enough time to sneak out and make a run for the border.

I grab the window frame with one hand and place a foot on the sill, ready to make my glorious escape, when—

BANG!

The bedroom door bursts open behind me, and a blast of cold air whooshes in. I nearly topple backward from the shock, but thankfully manage to keep my balance and avoid an excruciatingly embarrassing faceplant.

“Wendy,” comes a familiar, exasperated voice, “is your plan really to jump out the window and save the world?”

Ugh. Busted again.

The man standing before me is my Uncle Killian—esteemed Alpha of Ashfall Pack and my parents’ most trusted friend. Ten days ago, my mom and dad had him take me away from my pack, the Silver Moon Pack, without so much as an explanation. Since then, I’ve been stranded here like some clueless football while he “gently” confined me in his pack house. Now,  I have only one goal:

Get. Back. Home.

Sure, the first five attempts were a bust. But this time, I’d been sure it would work.

“I’m just going to rescue my parents. Bye now, Uncle Killian!” I flash him a bright grin and leap for the window again—

Except that I don’t get very far.

Uncle Killian leans halfway out the window, grabs me by the back of my shirt like I’m a stray kitten, and effortlessly hoists me back inside. I crumple back into my bedroom with a shriek, squirming underneath Uncle Killian’s grasp.

Seriously? I’m a she-wolf. This is so humiliating.

A few minutes later, I stand awkwardly in front of him while he sits in my desk chair, all broad shoulders and quiet authority. I clear my throat and do my best to salvage what’s left of my dignity.

“My shirt… kinda choked me back there,” I say with a sheepish smile, trying to look as innocent as possible.

“That was your sixth escape attempt, Wendy.” His voice isn’t harsh—if anything, it was a little too gentle, almost fond.

He’s not even mad.

Which only makes me feel worse.

“I’m just really worried about my parents.” I drop my gaze, unable to stop all the fear I’ve been feeling from spilling out. “I don’t know what’s going on, but something feels wrong.”

“They’re dealing with some difficult stuff, but I promise you—they’re safe.” Uncle Killian’s eyes are kind as he motions for me to sit. His voice softens just like always did when he used to tuck me in at night.

I sit on the bed, sulking. “I’m eighteen. I deserve to know what’s going on. I can help them!”

“The problem is… you haven’t shifted yet.”

…Ouch.

The words hit me right where it hurts most.

As the daughter of an Alpha, I should’ve had my first shift at sixteen. But now I’m eighteen—and still nothing. It’s like the Moon Goddess has forgotten I existed.

But I’m not the type to just roll over and give up.

“So what? Just because I haven’t shifted doesn’t mean I’m some pathetic little girl hiding in a corner.” I lift my chin stubbornly. “I know how to fight. I’m smart. I can protect my parents—and myself! Why won’t anyone believe in me? Why am I being kept here like a prisoner?”

“Hey, sweetheart. Look at me.” Uncle Killian rolls the chair closer, his voice warm and familiar. “Who do you think taught you to fight? That was me. And I know you’re smart. Smarter than most. But this time… it’s different. This time, it involves the Royal Family.”

I freeze.

The Lycan Royal Family?

They’re the absolute top of the supernatural food chain—power, bloodlines, mystery. If my parents are tangled up with them…

I feel my eyes start to sting, but I do my best to suppress the feeling. I am not going to cry.

Uncle Killian catches it immediately and gently pats my shoulder. “That’s why I didn’t tell you, Wendy. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“But my parents—”

“They’ll be fine,” he says firmly, flashing a sly grin. “Come on, don’t underestimate me. Your dad’s my best friend. I swore I’d keep him safe—no matter what.”

I do trust him. He’s been a part of our lives for as far back as I can remember—training with Dad, fighting alongside him. If anyone could keep his word, it’s Uncle Killian.“Is there anything I can do?” I sniffle, doing my best to look strong.

“Stay here,” he says, dead serious. “That’s what your parents wanted. And right now, it’s the only way you can help them.”

I stayed quiet for a second before nodding.“When will I be able to go home?”

Uncle Killian smiles. “When the time’s right, I’ll take you there myself.”

Then his eyes sweep over the room, and he frowns like he’s just made a horrifying discovery. “Wendy. What, my pack house isn’t good enough for you? You don’t like the place? I gave you so much pink—”

“I like blue,” I shoot back, deadpan.

He coughs awkwardly and quickly changes the subject. “Anyway. My son’s two years older than you—he goes to the same werewolf academy you’ll be attending. He’s coming home tomorrow. I’ll have him show you around.”

“You have a son?” I blink like he’s just revealed he has a second identity.

“He’s been in closed training since he was little. You never met him—it’s normal.” He sounds proud. “He’s a great fighter. Plays a mean game of ice hockey. And most importantly—”

He pauses, then delivered the final blow, “He looks just like me. Tall, handsome, the girls at school go crazy over him.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh really? Are you sure that’s not just you hyping him up?”

“Oh, trust me, he doesn’t need it.”

“Right,” I scoff. 

We joke back and forth for a while until Uncle Killian finally leaves. I stare at the full moon outside my window, hug my pillow, and finally manage to drift off.

I have no idea how much time has passed by the time I wake up parched and groggy. I pad downstairs barefoot, yawning and muttering about how this place is a total maze.

As I near the kitchen, I hear something—soft laughter, whispered voices… and then a loud thump against the cabinets?

I stop in my tracks.

In the moonlight, I suddenly see two shadows tangled together—very closely.

I creep forward and peek around the corner.

A blonde girl in a Werewolf Academy uniform skirt is practically glued to a silver-haired guy. She’s unbuttoning his shirt, and he’s kissing her like he owns her—rough, hungry, and entirely in control.

His hand glides from her waist to her hips with practiced ease, and their mouths move together in a rhythm that’s all heat and urgency. She lets out a breathy whimper when he tugs her lower lip between his teeth, and she presses him harder against the counter. He responds by letting his hand drift along her inner thigh, teasing the edge of her skirt with slow, deliberate strokes.

I freeze, heat rushing to my face. What do I do? How do I disappear? I take a tiny step back—

CLANG!

My elbow knocks into a vase on the counter. Water splashes. Porcelain explodes. The kitchen rings with the crash, and I’m standing there like a deer in headlights, caught in a moment I was never meant to see.

Crap.

The girl whips around and locks eyes with me. Her expression is ice cold—deadly.

It’s her. Selena. The ice queen of the Werewolf Academy.

“Who are you?” she snaps. “What, are you some kind of stalker?”

I open my mouth to explain, but before I get the chance, she spins on the guy furiously. “You told me no one was home!” She shrieks. “And now there’s another girl? You played me!”

“Wait, I—”

SLAP!

The sound of her palm smacking his face echoes through the kitchen.

Oh, Moon Goddess. This is so, so dramatic.

Selena storms out like a betrayed princess, proud and furious.

And the guy?

Yeah. No doubt about it.

He must be Damien—Uncle Killian’s legendary son.

He scoffs and turned to look at me. His face in the moonlight is all sharp angles, and chiseled features, with strong jawline, intense eyes, and lips still flushed from that wild kiss.

Okay… he’s stupid hot.

I freeze beneath his piercing stare like a deer caught in the headlights, flushed and vulnerable and just waiting for devastation. 

Just as I’m about to make a break for it, a gust of air sweeps past me, and suddenly—

Damien is blocking my path.

He stands there like a damn wall, towering over me. I shrank back and can’t help but sneak a glance up towards him.

He’s way too tall.

But he doesn’t seem mad. In fact, as I watch, his lips slowly twist  into a devious smirk.

The kind of smirk that screams: You’re in trouble now.

“Who are you?” Damien asks, his voice low and dangerously sexy. There’s an edge to it that somehow makes my face even redder than before. 

I gulp. 

Time to think fast.