His Father’s Luna : The Betrayed Warrior’s Return

4. We're About To Become Family

Lyra’s POV

The morning sun did not ask for permission to enter the Alpha King’s chambers, piercing boldly through the heavy velvet curtains to cast a harsh, unforgiving golden light across the tangled silk sheets and the scattered ruins of my black slip.

I was already awake, for a Vanguard warrior never slept past dawn, even when her body felt thoroughly dismantled and rebuilt by the absolute, devastating power of an Alpha Prime.

Lying perfectly still on my side, I felt the heavy, muscular weight of Fenrir’s arm draped possessively over my bare waist, anchoring me to the mattress. The spicy, dark scent of the Moonshade herbs was already beginning to fade, giving way to my natural scent of ozone, rain, and the metallic tang of the battlefield, which now mixed inextricably with his overwhelming musk.

When the rhythmic rise and fall of his broad chest shifted, the arm around my waist tightened, pulling my back flush against him.

“The mask is gone,” a low, sleep-rough voice rumbled directly against my ear.

My breath hitched, but before I could turn around, his large, calloused hand slid up my stomach, his thumb grazing my ribs until his fingers gently yet firmly gripped my chin, guiding my face toward him.

Fenrir’s amber eyes were half-lidded, heavy with the lingering haze of sleep and the satisfaction of a completely sated wolf. However, the moment his gaze focused on my face in the stark daylight, that haze vanished entirely. His pupils dilated and the muscles in his jaw instantly feathered, yet he neither yelled nor summoned the guards.

Instead, he simply stared at me, his brilliant mind rapidly processing the tactical map of the situation.

“You,” he breathed, the realization dawning with a dangerous, razor-sharp edge as his gaze raked over my fiery red hair, the smattering of freckles across my nose, and the fierce, unapologetic set of my jaw. “The Vanguard returning from the Black River. You stood in the courtyard yesterday covered in mud.”

“I did, Sire,” I replied, forcing my voice to remain steady despite the frantic rhythm my heart was hammering against my ribs.

A dark, incredibly dangerous smirk curled the corner of his mouth as he shifted his weight to hover over me, trapping me beneath the heavy, intimidating cage of his arms. “You broke into my private solar, masked yourself like a common thief, and demanded I treat you as an equal,” he murmured. “You’re either the bravest soldier in my army, Lyra, or the most foolish.”

“I’m whatever you need me to be,” I echoed my words from the night before, stubbornly refusing to break eye contact.

“You used me,” Fenrir deduced, his voice dropping into a lethal, vibrating growl. As an Alpha Prime, he was no one’s fool, and I could feel his wolf, Raze, pushing against the surface to analyze the sudden shift in my scent, my utter lack of fear, and the sheer audacity of my presence. “You didn’t come here just to share my bed. You came here to stake a claim. Why?”

Before I could formulate an answer, the sound of heavy, hurried footsteps echoed in the stone corridor outside the heavy oak door.

“Father? Are you awake?”

The sweet, melodic, and entirely entitled voice of Princess Selena pierced the heavy silence of the bedroom. Accustomed to having absolute free rein of the castle, she waited neither for a response nor for the guards to announce her. The heavy iron latch simply clicked, and the massive door swung open.

“Father, Anton and I need to discuss the new patrol assignments before the Council meeting—”

Selena’s words died a sudden, violent death in her throat.

Standing frozen in the doorway, dressed in a pristine, perfectly tailored white morning gown and clutching a stack of parchment, her ice-blue eyes widened to the size of saucers as they landed on the massive four-poster bed.

She took in the sight of her father, the terrifying and untouchable Alpha King, sitting up against the headboard with his broad, scarred chest entirely bare and the sheets pooling low around his waist. And then, her gaze slowly tracked to the woman sitting right beside him.

The color completely drained from Selena’s face, leaving her looking like a porcelain doll that had just been shattered, as the parchment slipped from her trembling hands to scatter across the stone floor with a loud, chaotic rustle.

“Lyra?” Selena choked out, her voice barely a whisper, entirely stripped of its usual sugary superiority.

Rather than scrambling to hide myself, blushing, or cowering, I simply sat up slowly. The luxurious silk sheet pooled around my waist, leaving my shoulders and the dark, undeniable bite mark Fenrir had left on my collarbone completely exposed.

“Good morning, Princess,” I said, my tone chillingly polite.

“What…what is this?” Selena stammered, taking a step back as if she had been physically struck while her gaze darted frantically between her father and me. Her chest began to heave, her initial shock rapidly boiling over into a shrill, unhinged fury. “Father! What is she doing here?! She is a muddy grunt, a common soldier! Do you have any idea who she is?!”

Fenrir leaned back against the headboard, entirely unbothered by his daughter’s hysterical outburst. Glancing sideways at me, his amber eyes gleamed with a sudden, dark amusement.

While he didn’t know the full history between Selena, Anton, and me, he was a predator who instantly recognized a territorial dispute. He realized in that very moment that he was the weapon I had chosen to wield, and to his own surprise, his Alpha ego wasn’t offended. It was intensely, fiercely intrigued.

“She’s exactly where she belongs, Selena,” Fenrir stated, his voice a low, commanding rumble that demanded absolute silence before adding, “Lower your voice.”

Selena looked as though she were going to be violently ill, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly as her hands balled into tight, shaking fists. “You can’t be serious! She’s playing you, Father! She’s manipulating you! She’s nothing but a—”

“I said, lower your voice,” Fenrir snarled, sending a flash of pure Alpha dominance rolling through the room that made Selena physically flinch.

Looking at the woman who had stolen my lover, stripped me of my dignity, and tried to force me into the shadows just twelve hours ago—the same girl who had smirked at me and claimed she and Anton were practically family—I let a slow, cold, and utterly ruthless smile spread across my face.

“Don’t get it twisted, Selena,” I said, my voice carrying clearly across the grand room, dripping with an icy, unshakeable confidence that caused her furious eyes to snap back to mine.

Leaning back against the pillows, I intentionally shifted so my shoulder brushed intimately against Fenrir’s bare arm. “We are exactly what we look like.” I paused, allowing the absolute devastation of my words to sink fully into her pristine, pampered reality. “Get ready,” I whispered, delivering the final, fatal blow. “Because we’re about to be family.”

Letting out a strangled, breathless sound of pure horror, Selena stumbled backward and tripped over the hem of her own perfect gown, utterly unable to look at the undeniable proof of her worst enemy sitting on the throne she had assumed was untouchable.

She turned and fled, the sound of her frantic sobs echoing down the corridor as she ran to find Anton, leaving her perfect little world entirely set ablaze. The heavy oak door remained open, the scattered parchment serving as the only proof that the Princess of the Crimson Moon had ever been there.

When I slowly turned my head to look at the Alpha King, Fenrir was already watching me. The fierce, terrifying beast that ruled the packs of the West wasn’t looking at me like a soldier or a one-night distraction. Rather, he was looking at me as though he had just found the most dangerous, fascinating creature in his entire kingdom.

Reaching out, his large hand wrapped around the back of my neck so his thumb could brush over the fresh bruise his teeth had left on my collarbone.

“You play a very dangerous game, Lyra,” he murmured, his amber eyes burning into mine, completely blind to the agonizing history that had driven me to his bed, yet entirely aware that I had just declared war on his children.

“I only play games I intend to win, My King,” I replied softly, refusing to yield an inch.

A dark, rumbling chuckle vibrated in his chest. “Then you had better be prepared,” Fenrir promised, pulling me down by the back of the neck until my lips were a breath away from his, “because the real war hasn’t even started yet.”