Dagger of The Blood Moon

Chapter2

Kai POV

The cloying stench of Elvira’s perfume hits me like a rogue’s claw before I even turn the corner. My stomach churns, breakfast threatening a revolt. Atlas, my wolf, bristles in my mind, pacing like he’s caught a bad scent on the wind. I quicken my steps toward the dining hall, hoping to dodge her, but her voice shrieks through the packhouse like a banshee.

“Alpha! Darling! Yoohoo!” Elvira’s call is followed by a cloud of that overpriced French perfume she insists on wearing, despite my pack’s budget groaning under her shopping sprees. Dax, the traitor, smirks and slips into the dining hall, leaving me to face the storm alone.

I’ve never been drunk a day in my life—save for that cursed full moon run six months ago. Even after passing my Alpha exams, when the other new alphas and I drained Dark Moon Pub dry, I stayed sharp. So how I ended up with Elvira claiming I fathered her pup is a mystery that keeps Atlas snarling. Werewolf pups carry their parents’ scents at birth, a mix of both, but until her pup arrives, I’m stuck in this limbo. I can’t risk casting her out—not if there’s a chance, she’s telling the truth. My pack deserves a leader who owns his mistakes, even ones I don’t remember making.

“Elvira,” I say, keeping my tone even, though Atlas claws at my restraint.

She latches onto my arm, her perfume stinging my eyes. “Kai, darling, I have a bone to pick with you.” Her blue eyes, framed by lashes Dax swears look like nesting caterpillars, narrow in that practiced pout. “My hospital bag isn’t packed, and you’re not even excited about our heir!”

I bite back a retort. The pack hospital is steps away, staffed by Dr. Nolan, who’s delivered every pup in this pack for decades. But Elvira insists on the Council Territory Hospital, claiming only they’re fit for “alpha blood.” I’ve learned arguing with her is like wrestling a porcupine—painful and pointless. “Dr. Nolan will take care of you,” I say, forcing a smile. “The hospital’s close, no bag needed.”

She sneers. “If you think I’ll let that quack touch me or your pup, you’re out of your mind.”

I clench my jaw, Atlas growling low. Her demands test my patience, but I nod, letting her ramble.

My thoughts drift to Leila, the foundling I pulled into the pack five years ago after my warriors found her half-dead on our border, silver bullets lodged in her gut. A rogue, maybe, or something worse—her past is a blank slate, and her wolf, Aria, hasn’t surfaced since. Yet Atlas stirs every time she’s near, his instincts sharper, like he’s scenting something I can’t place. The smell of wildflowers, faint but unmistakable, cling to her, cutting through the packhouse’s chaos. She’s a small little thing, her body soft and feminine with gentle curves. Her auburn hair always braided with a few strands escaping, framing her heart-shaped face. Her eyes can look at a man’s soul, large, expressive hazel ringed in silver, shifting from light to forest green in shadow. Her mouth, full lips that curve into a smile that’s equal parts soft and mischievous.

“Have you asked Leila to help you?” I ask, cutting Elvira off mid-rant.

Her face sours. “I don’t like that mutt!”

Atlas surges, hackles raised, and I grip my control before he snaps. “Elvira,” I growl, sharper than intended, “in this pack, everyone is shown respect. Don’t use that word again.” My voice carries an alpha’s edge, and her eyes widen, brimming with tears. I hate her tantrums. “I’m sorry,” I add, running a hand over my jaw, choking on her perfume. “Just… don’t.”

She huffs, storming toward the packhouse suites. I make a mental note to avoid that hallway and head to my office, where a mountain of paperwork waits. Dax is already there, sprawled in a chair, flipping through files like they’ve personally offended him. We spend the afternoon shovelling through the chaos—trade agreements, pack finances, and Council reports, all a mess since our last administrator left after finding her mate in a neighbouring pack.

“I give up!” I groan, shoving a stack of papers aside. “It feels like we’re just moving piles around. Why aren’t these files sorted? I can’t tell which belongs to which company.”

“It was sorted before we started, sort of,” Dax says with a shrug, tipping his chair back with a lazy stretch. “So… is the big scary Alpha going to pack a hospital bag?” He grins, dodging the crumpled paper I hurl at him without blinking.

“f**k off,” I mutter, but his laugh pulls a reluctant smirk from me. He leans back, sobering. “You’ll have to start thinking about what you’re going to do if that pup’s yours,” Dax says, his tone shifting to serious, though his eyes still glint with mischief.

“You think it’s mine?” I ask, leaning back, the question heavier than I want to admit. I’ve avoided this talk with my Beta, my best friend, hoping if I ignore Elvira’s claim long enough, it’ll vanish like a bad dream.

Dax shrugs, catching the paper ball mid-air. “I think it’s highly unlikely the Moon Goddess stopped favouring her favourite Alpha.” His voice is light, but his words land like a punch. “But you know how this works. If the pup’s yours, the Council will force a bonding ceremony.”

“I know, I know,” I say, rubbing my temples. “I’ll do what’s expected. I just don’t understand how it’s possible.” The thought of making Elvira—that cloying perfume cloud—my Luna makes Atlas snarl, and my chest tightens. I’ve always hoped my true mate would find her way to me, but with Elvira’s claim, that hope feels like a fading scent on the wind.

“You need me to explain the birds and the bees, Alpha?” Dax grins, leaning forward. “You see, the bees spot a flower—”

“Shut up!” I laugh, throwing another paper ball, which he catches with infuriating ease. But my thoughts drift back to Leila. She starts in the office tomorrow, and if anyone can bring order to this mess, it’s her. Maybe working closer will help me unravel why her scent lingers in my mind long after she’s gone…and what her past is hiding.

Dax’s phone buzzes. He glances at it and groans. “Duty calls – border patrol check-in. Don’t have too much fun without me.” He saunters out, and I call after him, “Send Leila up when you see her, would you?”

I try to focus on the paperwork, but minutes drag. Then a soft knock sounds at the office door, and that faint wildflower scent drifts in stronger than usual in the confined space. Atlas stirs, alert.

“Come in,” I say.

Leila slips inside shyly, closing the door behind her. “You called for me, Alpha?”

“Come in. Grab a chair.” She pulls one closer and perches on the edge, hands folded in her lap. I lean back, studying her. “You don’t have to call me Alpha Kai in every sentence. Kai is fine. Dax doesn’t stand on ceremony, and neither do I – not with people I trust in this office.”

Her large hazel eyes widen slightly, a faint flush rising on her cheeks. “Yes, Alpha…I mean, Kai.”

The sound of my name in her soft voice hits harder than it should. I smile to cover it. “That’s better. As you can see, we desperately need your help.” I gesture at the chaos of papers covering the desk.

She scans the room, and I catch a spark of genuine excitement in her eyes – almost a challenge accepted. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

She stands, smoothing her apron. “Yes, Alpha. Thank you.” Then, quieter, testing it: “Kai.”

She smiles, small and shy, and slips out. The door clicks shut, but her scent lingers, and Atlas settles with a low, contented rumble I pretend not to notice.