Chapter 2 Moon marked
833 Words
The days after Araya returned to Silver Moon blurred together like smoke in the wind. The Gathering was over, but its weight hadn’t left her shoulders. No one could know what had happened. Not her father. Not her pack. Not Ezra.
She carried herself with grace, her posture straight and her voice steady. But inside, she was drowning.
Every night, her mind returned to the island—to the candlelit room, to the scent that made her body surrender. She didn’t know his name, didn’t know his face well enough to recall. She hadn’t even seen his eyes in full light. But his presence was carved into her memory. His voice, low and commanding. The warmth of his hand on her skin. The way he moved without a single wasted motion. Powerful. Silent. Alpha.
And he had mated with her.
She hadn’t meant to. She hadn’t known. The wine had clouded her head, her heat had overwhelmed her instincts. And he hadn’t stopped her.
Now, back home under the pale winter sun, everything was different.
---
Ezra waited for her just outside the training hall. As always, he leaned against the wall like a character from an old storybook, smiling as if he hadn’t cheated on her three months ago with a girl from Frost Hollow.
“You’ve been distant,” he said, slipping an arm around her waist.
Araya didn’t pull away. But she didn’t lean in either.
“The Gathering was intense,” she said.
“But we were supposed to talk after you got back.”
She nodded, barely listening. The scent of him was wrong. Weak. Too sweet. Nothing like the dark, musky pine scent of the Alpha from the island.
Ezra leaned closer. “You smell… different.”
Araya froze. “Do I?”
He sniffed again and frowned. “I don’t know. Something’s off.”
She pulled away. “Maybe it’s just you.”
He looked hurt. But she didn’t care. Not anymore.
---
That night, she nearly collapsed during patrol drills. Her breath caught, her legs trembled, and she sat down on the snow-dusted earth, dizzy and burning.
The next morning, she went to see Sira, the healer.
The old wolf said nothing for a long time as she examined Araya. Her touch was gentle, practiced. Her expression unreadable.
Finally, she pulled back and sat on her stool, sighing.
“You’re pregnant.”
Araya blinked. “What?”
“A few weeks along,” Sira said. “Wolf pregnancies move quickly. You’ll feel it soon.”
Araya stared at the stone floor. “That’s not possible.”
“Unless you’re still a virgin, child, I assure you… it is.”
Her heart pounded. “It wasn’t Ezra.”
Sira raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
“It happened at the Gathering,” Araya whispered. “I was in heat. I drank too much. I went into the wrong room.”
Sira's gaze softened. “Do you remember who he was?”
Araya shook her head. “He didn’t tell me his name. I didn’t ask.”
She felt shame burning her throat. But deeper still was confusion. And something else. Longing.
---
Araya walked through the snowy forest trails that afternoon, cloak drawn tightly around her. She stopped at a frozen stream and stared at her reflection in the ice.
“What have I done?” she whispered.
She pressed a hand gently over her abdomen. Nothing showed yet. But something was there. Growing. Alive.
Was it a boy? A girl? Would it have his eyes? His voice?
Was he a noble? A rogue? A king?
She didn’t know. But her body did.
She had mated with someone powerful. Someone ancient. And she could feel the bond still humming faintly under her skin.
The child inside her was not just a mistake.
It was a secret the Moon herself had chosen to bury—or reveal.
---
That night, Araya avoided Ezra. She locked her door and sat by the window, staring at the pale crescent hanging above the trees.
She thought of her father. What would he say? Would he send her away? Would he kill the pup if he knew it didn’t belong to Ezra?
Would the pack exile her?
Her hand trembled.
Then she remembered the Alpha’s hands. Strong. Steady. She remembered the way he looked at her when he touched her cheek. Like she wasn’t a mistake. Like she was his.
She hadn’t been afraid of him. Not then. Not now.
The thought made her breath catch.
What if he was searching for her?
What if he remembered?
What if he didn’t?
Araya closed her eyes and whispered into the silence,
“Who are you?”
And somewhere far away, in a frozen castle above the clouds, a man with silver hair and emerald eyes looked out across the mountains.
He didn’t know her name.
But he remembered her scent.
And he knew in his bones—
She was carrying his heir
- Writer
