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

3. The Seed Of Vengeance

Lyra’s POV

The soft click of the latch sealing the room didn’t startle him. Fenrir turned with the deliberate fluidity of a mountain shifting its weight. The firelight caught the sharp angles of his face, the square jaw, the heavy brow, and eyes that burned with a glowing, amber-red intensity. He was terrifying, yet beautiful in the way a storm is beautiful: destructive and awe-inspiring all at once.

Narrowing his eyes, he scanned the silhouette before him: a woman in sheer black silk, her curves highlighted by the dying embers, her face obscured by a strip of dark cloth.

“Who goes there?” His voice was a low rumble, vibrating through the floorboards and straight up into the soles of my feet. “If you’re an assassin, you have chosen a poor night to die.”

I didn’t flinch. Forcing my breathing to remain steady, I let the Moonshade and Silver-leaf paste on my pulse points do its work. “I’m not an assassin, My King.”

He inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring as he sought a scent that wasn’t there, and the confusion on his face was instantaneous. He couldn’t smell the intruder’s fear, nor could he place the pack affiliation. The herbs had masked Lyra the Warrior completely, replacing her with something wild, spicy, and foreign.

“You’re not the woman the Beta summoned,” he stated, though he didn’t call for the guards. His gaze raked over me, lingering on the sheer fabric clinging to my hips and the confident set of my shoulders. “She was…softer. More obedient.”

“I sent her away,” I lied smoothly, stepping further into the firelight. “She would have bored you. She would have agreed with everything you said and trembled at your touch.”

Fenrir let out a scoff, half-amused, half-irritated, and set his glass down on the mantle with a heavy clink, the amber liquid sloshing against the crystal. “And you? You won’t tremble?”

“I’m not here to tremble,” I said, my voice dropping an octave, husky with a confidence I barely felt. “I’m here to give you what you actually need.”

He took a step toward me, the predator in him piqued, and the air in the room seemed to condense, growing heavy with his dominance. “And what is it that I need, little shadow? A warm body? A distraction?”

“An equal,” I replied.

The word hung in the air, bold and dangerous. Fenrir froze, a low growl starting deep in his chest. “An equal,” he repeated, testing the word as if it were a foreign coin. “You are arrogant for a trespasser.”

“You’re surrounded by sycophants, yes-men, and children playing at war,” I said, my mind flashing to Anton’s desperate need for validation. “You want something real. You want a challenge. You want a son who will not break under the weight of your legacy.”

His eyes darkened at the mention of a son. I’d struck the nerve.

He closed the distance between us in two long strides, towering over me. Up close, the sheer size of him was overwhelming, smelling of pine, rain, and raw, leashed violence. When he reached out, his large, rough hand hovering near my face with the intent of ripping the mask away, I didn’t back down. I caught his wrist.

It was a move of insanity—no one touched the Alpha King without permission—yet he paused. His skin was scorching hot, his wrist thick with muscle, and for a second, I thought he would snap my arm like a twig. Instead, he looked down at my hand gripping his, at my calloused fingers from sword training, not soft like a lady’s.

“You have warrior’s hands,” he murmured, his thumb grazing the rough skin of my palm.

A jolt of electricity shot up my arm, settling low in my belly. It wasn’t fear, no. It felt like a primal recognition.

“I’m whatever you need me to be,” I whispered, guiding his hand away from my mask to place it on my waist, pressing myself flush against his hard chest. “But tonight, I’m just a shadow. No names. No titles. Just this.”

The contact was explosive. My wolf, Hera, howled inside me, confused by the proximity to the Alpha Prime but eager to submit to his strength. It was a stark contrast to Anton. With him, I’d always felt like I had to hold back, to make myself smaller so he could feel big. With Fenrir, I could burn as bright and hot as I wanted, and he would only burn hotter.

“You smell…dangerous,” Fenrir growled, leaning down so his lips brushed the sensitive skin below my ear. He inhaled the Moonshade scent greedily, his restraint snapping like a dry twig. “Who are you?”

“Does it matter?” I breathed, tilting my head back to bare my throat to him. “Make me yours, Fenrir.”

Using his name without the title was the final key. He didn’t ask for permission. He simply took it.

He crashed his mouth onto mine, hungry and demanding, tasting of whiskey and fire. It wasn’t the sweet, practiced kissing of a lover. This was a claiming, rough, desperate, and overwhelmingly masculine. I kissed him back with equal force, channeling all my rage, all my pain, and all my desperate need for vengeance into the embrace. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him down, parting my lips to let his tongue explore my mouth with the same ruthless authority he used to rule his pack.

Sweeping me up into his arms as if I weighed nothing, his large hands gripped my bare thighs, his callouses scraping deliciously against my skin. He carried me toward the massive four-poster bed and dropped me onto the silken sheets. He followed instantly, his heavy body pressing me deep into the mattress, trapping me.

“Keep the mask on,” he commanded, his voice a gravelly rasp of pure lust as he loomed over me. “If I see your face, I might have to kill you for breaking into my home. But if I don’t…”

“Then I’m just a dream,” I finished for him, arching my back into his touch.

He didn’t waste time with gentle caresses. He grabbed the neckline of my sheer slip and tore it completely open, the delicate fabric ripping down the middle with a sharp sound that only fueled his fire. The cool air of the chamber hit my flushed skin, but the heat radiating from his massive frame was a furnace. His amber eyes darkened as they raked over my exposed breasts, lingering on the hard, peaking n*****s.

“Beautiful,” he gritted out. “Fierce and beautiful.”

He stood up just long enough to strip his trousers off in one swift motion, kicking them to the floor. The sheer size of him, thick, heavy, and straining with feral arousal, made my breath hitch. He was every inch the Alpha King, built to completely overwhelm.

He settled between my legs, his heavy knees nudging my thighs wide open. The friction of his scorching skin against mine was electric.

“Spread for me,” Fenrir ordered, his voice a dark, rough vibration. “Show me what you came here to give your King.”

I arched up instinctively, my core aching, slick and pulsing with a desperate, melting heat. He dragged a thick thumb directly over my cli*, pressing down hard, and a loud, involuntary whimper tore from my lips.

“Look at this,” he growled, slicking two thick fingers deep inside my dripping core. I bucked against his hand, my nails digging violently into the scarred expanse of his shoulders. “You’re f**king soaked for me. Dripping wet before I’m even inside you. Tell me you want my c*ck, shadow. Beg for it.”

“I want it,” I gasped, my hips snapping up, desperately chasing the friction of his fingers. “Give it to me, Fenrir. Please.”

He positioned the blunt, wet head of his length at my entrance. He gripped my hips, his thumbs pressing deeply into the flesh above my hipbones. “I’m going to split you in half,” he warned, his jaw tight. “You’re going to take every f**king inch of your King, and you’re going to beg for more.”

He thrust forward, one hard, agonizingly deep plunge that stole all the oxygen from the room. He filled me completely, stretching my inner walls to their absolute limit, possessing me with a heavy, unyielding dominance that Anton could never even fathom.

I screamed, a sharp, breathless sound, my inner muscles automatically clamping down tight around his massive girth.

Fenrir let out a guttural, feral groan, his jaw clenching as he forced himself to stay perfectly still, letting me adjust to the sheer size of him. “F*ck. You are so damn tight. Don’t move…just take it.”

“I have it,” I panted, wrapping my legs tightly around his muscular waist to lock him inside me. “Don’t hold back. Ruin me.”

That was the trigger. His pace quickened, becoming beautifully, violently feral. He pulled back almost entirely before driving his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt with a sharp, wet slap of skin against skin. The heavy oak bedframe groaned in protest under the sheer force of our combined movements.

“That’s it, take my c*ck,” he snarled, a filthy, ragged rumble against my ear. His teeth grazed my neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark without breaking the skin. “Wrap that tight little c*nt around me. Whose c*ck is this? Tell me.”

“Yours,” I sobbed, completely unspooling beneath his absolute dominance. The calculating warrior who had broken into his room was gone, replaced by a writhing, starving creature entirely at his mercy. “Yes, Fenrir. Yours.”

“Damn right it is,” he gritted out, his chest heaving, sweat beading along his collarbone. “You’re taking it like you were made for it. Does it feel good? Tell me how deep I am.”

“So deep,” I cried out, my nails raking down his broad back. “Don’t stop. Harder, Alpha. Please.”

The air grew thick with the heavy scent of his pine and rain mixing with my spicy Moonshade. The pressure low in my belly coiled tighter and tighter with every forceful drag of his length. He reached down between our bodies, his thumb finding my swollen nub again, pressing and rubbing in time with his ruthless, punishing thrusts.

My body completely short-circuited.

Give me a son, I prayed silently as his movements became a frantic, stuttering demand. Give me the weapon I need to destroy them.

“Give it to me, shadow,” Fenrir ordered roughly, feeling the violent tremors of my climax begin to ripple through my core. “Shatter for me. Milk my c*ck. Squeeze it while I breed you.”

With a broken, high-pitched cry, I let go. Wave after wave of intense, blinding pleasure wrecked my body. My vaginal walls spasmed uncontrollably, clamping down hard around him, squeezing him with a devastating pressure.

My climax tipped him directly over the edge. With a deafening, feral roar, he drove his hips forward one final, punishing time. I felt the base of his length swell dramatically, the undeniable, thick pressure of an Alpha’s knot locking him deep inside me. He buried his face in my neck, his massive body shuddering as he released a scalding, endless flood of his seed straight into my womb.

“Take it all,” he groaned heavily against my skin. “Take my knot.”

As he collapsed on top of me, his heavy chest heaving against my breasts, the room fell silent, save for the wind outside and the crackle of the dying fire. We lay tangled together, locked intimately as his knot slowly subsided. Sweat cooled on our skin, the scent of s*x and Moonshade overwhelmingly heavy in the air.

He didn’t pull away. Instead, he buried his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling the spicy scent again.

“You…” he murmured, his voice thick and gravelly with sleep. “You’re…incredible.”

I lay there, staring up at the canopy of the bed, my heart slowly returning to a normal rhythm. I felt thoroughly hollowed out, deeply sore, yet filled with a terrifying, undeniable purpose.

I waited until his breathing evened out, deepening into the heavy rhythm of slumber, the Moonshade’s mild sedative ensuring he would not wake easily. My original plan had been to leave. To slide out from under his heavy arm, climb down the treacherous balcony, and disappear back into the Vanguard barracks.

I turned my head, looking at the balcony doors. I could leave a mystery. I could be a ghost.

But then Selena’s smug, triumphant face flashed in my mind. “We’re practically family,” she had said, draping herself over the man who had promised me forever.

A ghost couldn’t claim a throne. A mystery woman couldn’t look her enemies in the eye and watch their world burn. If I snuck away now, Anton and Selena would wake up tomorrow morning believing they had won. They would parade around the castle, secure in their little alliance, while I washed mud off my boots in the lower barracks.

No.

The Lyra who hid in the shadows died the moment I walked into Anton’s room. I didn’t just want a secret pregnancy; I wanted absolute, undeniable devastation.

I reached up and untied the black silk strip covering my eyes. The fabric fell away, leaving my face completely exposed in the dying light of the embers. I shifted closer to Fenrir, my bare skin pressing against the hard, scarred expanse of his chest. He grunted softly in his sleep, his massive arm instinctively wrapping tighter around my waist, pulling me flush against him as if his wolf recognized that I belonged there.

I closed my eyes, a cold, ruthless smile touching my lips. Let the sun rise. Let the castle wake. Let them find the “muddy grunt” wrapped in the sheets of the Alpha King.

The vengeance wasn’t just a seed anymore. Tomorrow morning, it was going to bloom.