Pregnant and Rejected: The Luna's Lethal Return

Blood and Shadows

The cold rain poured down relentlessly, plastering my dark hair to my face as the massive rogue took another heavy step toward me.

In the darkness of the alleyway, his eyes glimmered with an animalistic hunger. The long, sinister blade in his hand picked up the feeble neon light of a streetlamp above us.

He believed that I was a broken Luna. A spoiled, soft woman who was thrown out of her luxury penthouse and left in the gutter. He believed that my shaking was due to fear.

It wasn't. The trembling was caused by the ancient, violent Lycan magic that had been suppressed for six years, coming back to me. The broken mate bond had broken the cage that I had created in my heart. The wife at home had passed away. The assassin was wide awake.

Little bird, don't try to scream," said the rogue in a gravelly voice. When it comes to ex-royals, nobody out here cares if they bleed.

He lunged.

He was quick for a big brute and was pressing the knife straight down at my chest. But to my fully awakened Lycan eyes, his movement looked clumsy and slow.

I didn't climb backwards. I didn't scream. I scrambled off the damp road and twisted my body violently to the side. A second ago, my heart was in the same place as my rogue's blade was now, and it just lit up on the concrete.

As I pulled my arm back, my hand flew out. My hands were gripping his thick wrist as if it were a steel vice. I was gripping his arm with a firm grasp, and he tried to pull, but his eyes went yellow, and his mouth opened in shock. My Lycan strength was no longer controlled to make Kaelen feel better; it was on full display.

I pulled out the silver hunting knife that was strapped to my thigh with my free hand. I wore all black tactical gear, and I was in deadly intent. Under his heavy combat boots, I kicked my leg and swept him under.

The giant rogue came crashing onto my back in the muddy water, and I dropped my weight on his chest, pinning him down. Without hesitation, I thrust the sharp, cold edge of my silver blade right into the beating vein on his thick neck.

There was silence in the alley except for the rain and our laboured breathing.

One drop of blood welled up where my knife had cut into his skin; it turned black in the dim light. Even if I pushed just a millimetre deeper, the silver would reach his throat.

I whispered, "I am not a bird. He had yellow eyes, and my dark eyes looked at him. “If you ever call me a pet again, I will cut off your tongue, and you will choke.

It was a long, drawn-out moment when he simply looked at me, his eyes wide. He just looked at me for a long, tense moment, his eyes wide. The blow to his eyes gradually faded. Then the strangest of events occurred.

He began to giggle.

It was a low, resonant chuckle that resonated through his huge chest. He dropped his gun, raising his hands as if surrendering.

"Easy, killer," he rasped, a wild grin splitting his scarred face. I yield, dammit, the Bloodmoon Alpha married a soft little rich girl, they said, they don't know s**t.

I didn't move my knife. "Who are you?"

His hands were still visible, and he said, "Name's Ryker. I'm the owner of this block of the Rogue District, Killer, and your instincts are good, but your scent is... It's a mess. You smell like fresh blood, expensive rain, and a newly broken mate bond. Ryker's eyes lowered to my stomach, nostrils flared. "And something else."

I felt a great fear rise in my chest. The baby. The noses of werewolves were too keen. Once Kaelen's trackers get the scent, they can smell me out from miles away, and if Ryker could smell the slight shift in my hormones, he would too.

Then my adrenaline was gone, and all I felt was a sickness in my bones. The emotional impact of the shattered bond came crashing down on me like a freight train. There were dark spots in my vision. My hands trembled, and the knife fell from his throat. I rolled off him, holding my stomach, and felt a sharp cramp rip through my abdomen.

"Hey!" Ryker jumped up immediately, the smile gone from his face. He touched my shoulder to support me. You're burning up. A wolf is not supposed to survive without the ritual without tearing its body apart.

I cried out, "I... I can't die," but my tears were hidden by the rain. I must protect it, must hide my scent.

Ryker took his time; he really looked at me. He noticed the desperation in my eyes, the protection I felt, and the fierce love that was eradicating the pain of my broken heart. The violent respect I had just gained from him turned to something else. Loyalty.

You need a witch," Ryker said grimly. Then he rose and gave me his huge, scarred hand. But you're lucky, fallen Luna, I know the best one in the underground. Can you walk?"

I clenched my teeth and suppressed the pain in my chest. "I can walk."

I took his hand. Ryker lifted me up and guided me deeper into the neon-lit labyrinthine structure of the Rogue District. After a few narrow alleys filled with garbage, we arrived at a heavy iron door in the side of an abandoned industrial building.

Ryker knocked on the door in a certain pattern. It then opened, and in its shadowy, smoky concrete enclosure, they saw a small room.

A hard, rough voice shouted out, "Ryker. A hard, raspy voice shouted out, "Ryker. Bring me another dying street mutt, and I'll charge double.

Behind a cluttered metal desk stood a woman with wild, dark curly hair and arms adorned with elaborate and shimmering magical tattoos. She was smoking a cigarette, and the ash was about to fall on the old spell books spread out in front of her. This was Nyx.

Nyx's eyes snapped up to me. She froze, the cigarette dangling from her lips. She inhaled deeply, her eyes glowing with a faint purple light.

Well, well," Nyx said, rising to her feet and strolling around the desk. An Alpha bond that's been cut, and a Lycan bloodline I haven't felt in a hundred years. Are you surprised, aren't you?

Will you keep my scent from being smelled? I shouted against the concrete wall, my voice echoing loudly. The bloodline, the broken bond, and... the pregnancy. I need to get away from all of it.

Nyx took a puff on her cigarette, calculating her eyes on me. A binding spell of this magnitude will cost you, and it will hurt like a mother's armpit. It will have to do with dark magic and binding your aura.

I said it without hesitation, "Do it. I don't give a s**t about the pain.

Nyx smirked. I like you already, sit in the chair.

I squeezed myself into the thick wooden chair in the middle of the room. Nyx took a piece of charcoal and drew a circle around me, and quickly. She began to chant in a language I didn't understand, the tattoos on her arms glowing brighter.

The room was suddenly very cold. Shadows fell off the wall and crawled all over the floor, around my legs, and up my body. It was as if ice water was pouring down my veins. I clenched my lips so tight I could taste my own blood, but I would not cry out as the dark magic sealed my scent away and buried the scent of my unborn child beneath layers of supernatural camouflage.

The spell finally came into effect, and the shadows disappeared. I was exhausted and gasping for air, sitting in a slump.

"It's done," Nyx said, putting out her cigarette. She looked at me, her expression turning dead serious. Now you're invisible to werewolf senses, but you should know this, little Lycan.

"What?" I exhaled in a breath, wiping my forehead.

Nyx went over to a small enchanted radio lying on her desk. She turned the dial, and the room was filled with the frenzied and angry voices of the Bloodmoon pack's guard channel, rather than music.

“Search every sector. The Alpha has ordered a full lockdown of the city limits. Bring her back alive.”

My blood turned to ice.

“Not only are they looking for a runaway wife,” Nyx warned, her eyes flashing. "Kaelen felt the bond snap, but he didn't feel you die. His pride is wounded. The hunt is on, Sienna. And he is tearing the city apart to find you."