Luna Helena

7

Leofrik didn’t understand what was happening.

A whirlwind of emotions had stirred inside him the moment he saw that woman—the queen who ruled the scene from the top of the staircase. His pulse was racing, and he struggled to calm Asmodeo, who howled like he never had before.

Could it truly be happening?

Mate.

That’s what his wolf had called her.

And a wolf never got that wrong.

“Your Highness, allow me to introduce you to the Luna of the Moon’s Claw pack. My wife, Helena,” said Alpha Mason.

Leofrik could hardly believe that such beauty could belong to such a crude man.

Still stunned by the sight of the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on—and fighting to restrain his wolf’s urge to claim—Leofrik barely managed to stay upright as Helena descended the stairs, her steps light and graceful. When their gazes met, he feared she would react too quickly, that she’d recognize him in front of her husband and the entire pack.

But what he saw in her deep, dark gypsy eyes was... indifference?

Maybe even... anger?

What the—?

“Your Royal Highness,” Helena greeted with a slight and elegant curtsy, giving the prince a perfect view of her swan-like neck—so smooth, so firm. The woman his wolf had just recognized as his mate didn’t seem to notice anything.

Was Asmodeo wrong?

“Charmed, Luna,” Leofrik replied, formally, taking her delicate fingers in his hand. At her touch, a jolt of pleasure shot through him so intense, he had to stop himself from pulling her into his arms and crushing her mouth with his.

“I expected nothing less from a woman with such exquisite taste in decor.”

For a second, Helena’s eyes shimmered at the compliment. It felt sincere, not the kind of empty flattery she was used to.

“You’re very kind, Your Highness. Your arrival does justice to the effort—and the expense,” Helena said, casting a glance at her husband, who lowered his eyes. “I hope you enjoy a wonderful day and leave with an excellent impression of us—your loyal subjects.”

Leofrik offered a modest bow, but it was entirely genuine. He would have gladly dropped to his knees right then and there and begged her to come with him—to his territory, his palace, his room, his...

“I’m sure I will,” he said, “especially if I’m in the company of such a remarkable lady. Although...”

His brow furrowed.

He had just noticed something he didn’t like.

The makeup was flawless—applied with an expensive, high-quality cream—but to lycan senses, the truth was still visible.

Helena was hiding a bruise.

Asmodeo howled violently, and no matter how much he tried to conceal it, a faint growl slipped from Leofrik’s lips.

“Are you all right, Your Highness?” Helena asked politely, noticing the tension on his face.

“It’s nothing, thank you,” Leofrik replied quickly, realizing that if he asked about the bruise, he would only embarrass her. He offered his arm. “Please, would you accompany me for a tour of the house?”

It was an unusual invitation—one that instantly sparked Mason’s pride.

Had it been anyone else, the man would be dead. But this wasn’t just anyone—this was a lycan, second in the royal line, the most powerful man in the realm after his father.

Mason had no choice but to smile nervously, bite his tongue, and interpret the gesture for what it pretended to be: a courtesy, a meaningless display of civility.

“Your… Highness. Of course,” Helena replied, surprised by the prince’s kindness—especially considering that just hours earlier, he had dismissed her request without a second thought. He probably didn’t even remember her name.

Then why…?

Helena accepted Leofrik’s arm. It was wide, muscular, and his grip firm—maybe even possessive.

“Where would you like to start, Luna Helena?”

So he did remember her name, despite Mason’s flat, impersonal introduction.

Before answering, Helena looked around. Everyone was staring—eyes wide, jaws slack.

Everyone except her husband, who stood stiffly, lips tight, gaze averted.

“Let’s step out into the gardens, Your Highness. It promises to be a beautiful day.”

Helena’s touch burned through Leofrik’s blazer and into his skin. He had never felt so at ease—and so inflamed. Asmodeo was not wrong. He felt it in his bones: this Luna, this incredible woman, was his mate.

And he had found her just as he was about to give up and choose a suitable lycan bride from a border realm.

But there were two problems that already threatened to ruin his joy.

First, his mate was married—to one of his subjects.

And second… she didn’t seem to recognize him at all.

Not even a flicker.

Could it be related to the bruise on her face?

Or worse—was her wolf hidden? Was that why she hadn’t sensed him?

Something in that mansion was rotten, and he needed to dig it out.

“I wish I could spend more time in the gardens,” Helena said during their walk through the grounds surrounding the estate, “but my duties as Luna are… sometimes overwhelming.”

Every second at her side was sweet agony. Her grip seared his skin.

It wasn’t just attraction—it was something ancient, magnetic, binding.

Looking over his shoulder, Leofrik saw the entire pack elite trailing behind them—including Mason.

“Darius,” Leofrik linked mentally with his Beta. “Get rid of those annoying followers. I need a moment alone with the Luna.”

Darius, having kept track of his Alpha’s path, responded with a smirk.

“Don’t tell me that woman is convincing you to support her claim. Now that would be a twist.”

“Claim? What the hell are you talking about?”

Darius chuckled. Classic Leofrik.

“She’s the Luna who called you yesterday, sir. The one seeking to divorce her husband to reclaim her father’s pack. Ring any bells?”

Leofrik stopped mid-step on the path leading to the greenhouse Helena had pointed out.

“Is something wrong, Your Highness?”

His eyes locked with hers.

Of course. It was her.

How could he have missed it?

Leofrik smiled—but quickly suppressed it.

“It’s nothing. And please… drop the formalities. I’d like you to call me Leofrik.”

“As you wi—sorry, Leofrik. As you wish.”

“Now I remember,” Leofrik said to his Beta. “In that case, distract her i***t husband. And scatter the rest. Whatever it takes, I need to speak to her alone.”

“Understood, sir. It’ll be my pleasure to make sure you’re not disturbed. May I ask why?”

“We’ll talk later. Just follow my orders.”

Darius approached the trailing entourage at a safe distance and addressed Mason directly.

“Alpha, I need you to personally accompany me to check on some security issues.”

“My Beta can go with you,” Mason replied stiffly.

“I’m aware. But I must insist it be you. There are questions only an Alpha can answer.”

Mason instantly understood the lycan Beta’s true intention: to keep him away from Helena.

He knew it.

But why? What interest could the prince possibly have in speaking to his wife alone?

Since when could a conversation with a woman be more valuable than one with a powerful man?

Unless…

No. Impossible.

The prince wouldn’t be interested in seducing his wife… would he?

Either way, Mason had no choice. If the prince was after Helena, he would need evidence. That kind of scandal would destroy her case for divorce—and give him free rein to get rid of her brother.

“I understand. In that case, I’ll be happy to accompany you, Beta. Please, lead the way,” Mason said politely.

Meanwhile, through the mental link, he gave an order to his own Beta.

“Watch those two, Milo. Don’t take your eyes off them. Bring your phone. If you need to—record them.”

Milo understood immediately. Hiding a low growl, he took a detour that led to a more discreet vantage point.

Now free from their unwanted observers, Leofrik gently redirected Helena’s proposed tour and led her to a corner of the garden with tall fruit trees.

Finally, they were alone.

And it was time to uncover the truth hiding behind those elegant walls.

“There’s something I want to ask you, Helena,” Leofrik said, taking off his blazer and unbuttoning the collar of his shirt.

Helena swallowed hard.

Suddenly, the lycan prince seemed... dangerous. Why had he brought her here? What had happened to her husband and the others who had been following them?

But her nerves faded as soon as he spoke:

“Who hit you, Helena? Why are you hiding that bruise on your face with makeup?”