"Thank you, thank you so much, my princess!" Isabel dropped to her knees before Seraphina, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks, the gratitude in her eyes too vast for words.For forty years, her beloved mate Levi had lived feral—not by birth, but by cruel twist of fate. Once a hopeful Omega with a heart full of dreams, life had dealt him nothing but sorrow. He and Isabel had married young, their love pure and unwavering, yet cursed with empty cradles. Each time Isabel conceived, the pregnancy ended in miscarriage. And on the rare occasions she carried to full term, she was met only with the silence of stillbirth.“You have no idea,” Isabel whispered, her voice quivering, “the kind of peace you've just given me.”Seraphina knelt and gently extended her hand. Isabel took it, lips trembling into a grateful smile.“It’s alright,” Seraphina said softly. “All will be well.”Then, without hesitation, she placed her palm upon Isabel’s wom
The celebration roared to life beneath the moonlit sky—vibrant, boisterous, and humming with joy. Laughter mingled with music, and torches burned bright as the Crescent Moon Pack reveled in the long-awaited return of their princess. Seraphina, adorned in a gown that shimmered like starlight, was swept into the festivities. For the first time in a long while, her heart felt light. The warmth of the people—their genuine smiles, their songs, their dancing—wrapped around her like a comforting cloak.King Henry stood proudly beside her, his voice echoing across the hall as he addressed the gathered crowd. “My people,” he declared, “the moon smiles upon us tonight, for the blood of our lineage returns to us. Behold, Princess Seraphina!”A wave of applause broke out, cheers rising like thunder. One by one, villagers stepped forward, bearing gifts—ornate jewelry, finely woven garments, golden trinkets, and heirlooms passed down through generations. Each gift came with a bow and a whispered bl
Days slipped by, and Seraphina began to feel herself again. Her strength returned slowly, steadily, like the rising tide. Her body adapted to the rhythms of her new environment, and with her wolf, Lena, stirring within her, the healing process quickened. Lena’s presence was not just comforting—it was empowering. They had begun to communicate more clearly, seamlessly even. Lena had sharp senses—razor-sharp. She could hear whispers from the farthest corner of the palace and scent the faintest trace of an intruder—or an herb she didn’t like. And gods, there were so many herbs she didn’t like. Their scents had grown nauseating, and unfortunately, Seraphina shared the same aversion. She chalked it up to the pregnancy—everything made her stomach churn lately. With a soft groan, she peeled off her robe and stepped into the warm, aromatic bath the palace maids had prepared under Queen Rosa’s instructions. The tub was filled with warm water steeped in spices, delicate flower petals, and c
“You said… pups?” Seraphina’s voice trembled slightly as she tried to confirm what she thought she’d just heard.“Yes, my princess,” Bolton, the royal healer, replied with a gentle nod. “When I summoned the midwife to examine you, we noted clear signs of a multiple pregnancy.”Seraphina’s eyes widened, a flicker of emotion lighting up her face. Her hands instinctively cradled her lower belly, rubbing softly in quiet awe and fierce protectiveness. Pups… mine?But joy quickly gave way to cold resolution. Nicolas must never find out. He didn’t care when I stood trial. He turned his back on me. To him, I no longer exist—and he no longer exists to me. These children will never know that man.“But there might be a complication, Your Highness,” Bolton continued, his tone taking on a cautious gravity.“What is it?” King Harry, Queen Rosa, and Seraphina asked simultaneously, their concern palpable.Bolton hesitated, clearly choosing his words with care. “Due to the unique nature of your pregna
Seraphina's eyes fluttered open, lashes trembling as her gaze adjusted to the soft white ceiling above. A shaft of sunlight streamed through the tall arched window, stabbing into her vision with a harsh brilliance. She winced, shutting her eyes again.But then they opened once more, wide and wary.Blue orbs scanned the unfamiliar room. Her head throbbed faintly, clouded in a haze. The last memory she could grasp was the cold steel of a sword plunging into her chest. The woods. Blood. Darkness swallowing her whole."Am I dreaming?" she whispered hoarsely. "Am I... dead? Is this the afterlife?"But the place she found herself in didn’t resemble anything like the eerie quiet of death. This room was opulent—walls painted a soft cream, trimmed with golden vines, the drapes thick and luxurious. The bed beneath her cradled her like a cloud.This doesn’t look like the woods. And it sure as hell doesn’t feel like death.She reached down, fingers trailing over the spot where the blade had pierc
The forest held its breath.Somewhere beyond the pines, the antelope grazed, slow and unaware. Sunlight filtered through the canopy above, throwing scattered gold across the clearing. King Harry crouched low behind a fallen log, his bow raised, arrow nocked. His muscles coiled, steady and still.Not a twig snapped. Not a leaf rustled.Behind him, his hunting brothers—Hemingway, Rowan, and Aldric—watched in silence, their forms half-shadowed in the underbrush. They knew better than to speak. When the king hunted, he did not miss.But just as Harry inhaled to draw the bowstring tighter, a strange scent pierced the wind.His nose twitched.He blinked once, then again, his nostrils flaring wide. It wasn’t the musk of deer or the earthy breath of the forest. This was colder. Metallic. A sharp tang that slid down his throat like old blood and steel.His hand froze. The bowstring held.He didn’t move.Another breath, deeper this time.Yes. There it was again.Steel. Blood. Human.The arrow l