Lycan Princess won't Be Your Luna (eBook)

A secret baby rejected mate billionaire werewolf romance

Isaac Freddie (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
213 Seiten
Publishdrive (Verlag)
978-0-00-109582-3 (ISBN)

Infos

She was born to rule the wolves-he was built to break them.

When Lycan Princess Alaiya Andersen is rejected before the entire court by her fated mate-the ruthless billionaire Alpha King Sean Silva-her world shatters under the full moon. Humiliated, hunted, and hiding a forbidden secret that could unite or destroy every pack, she vanishes into exile with a single vow: never to kneel again.

But destiny has claws.
When rival packs rise and corporate empires burn, Sean discovers that the woman he cast aside carries more than his scent-she carries his heir, the child of two worlds. Now, hunted by prophecy and haunted by guilt, he must choose between saving his empire or reclaiming the mate who could ruin it all.

From moonlit forests to glass-walled boardrooms, their paths collide in a storm of power, betrayal, and desire. Love becomes a weapon. Loyalty becomes a curse. And every heartbeat draws them closer to the truth: the bond they denied is the only thing strong enough to rewrite fate itself.

A secret baby. A rejected mate. A love too dangerous to survive-and too fierce to die.

'LYCAN PRINCESS WON'T BE YOUR LUNA' will rip your heart open from the first page and leave it beating beneath the moonlight until the very last.

Textauszug

Chapter 1 – “The Princess Who Wouldn’t Kneel”

Rain had not fallen on Moonvale in weeks, yet the stones of the Citadel courtyard still glistened with memory—the scorch marks of broken vows, the faint scent of burnt magic that no cleansing spell could remove. Alaiya Andersen stood at the edge of that scar, the hem of her uniform brushing against the uneven marble, every step reminding her of what she had lost.

The council had insisted the ceremony grounds remain untouched—a warning, they said, to future generations about pride and defiance. She knew the truth: it was a monument to her humiliation.

She drew a breath sharp enough to taste iron. Today she returned not as the would-be Luna, but as the acting Alpha Regent of Moonvale. Her father’s throne sat empty, and her mother’s diplomatic post remained vacant after the riots that followed the failed union. The weight of two legacies pressed on her shoulders, but she wore it like armor.

“Your Highness,” murmured Lucia Liu, trailing half a step behind. The handmaiden’s dark braid was pinned in perfect formality, but her eyes flicked nervously toward the council doors ahead. “The elders await you. Some say they plan to test your claim.”

“They can test whatever they wish,” Alaiya replied. “They will still kneel.”

The words felt foreign—half courage, half exhaustion—but she carried them into the great hall anyway. The chamber smelled of candle wax and wolf musk, the air thick with expectation. Twelve elders lined the semicircle dais, their ceremonial cloaks brushing the carved sigils of the moon. At the center stood Edith Hale, senior matron and keeper of the Prophecy. Her pale gaze cut through the gloom like frostlight.

“Princess Alaiya,” Edith began. “You return to us under troubling omens. The alliance with Northgate lies in ruin, the prophecy seal shattered, and the Ironclad borders stir. Why should this council trust you to rule?”

Because there is no one else, Alaiya wanted to say. Because I am all that remains of Moonvale’s line. Instead she bowed her head the precise degree demanded by protocol—not a fraction more.

“I do not ask for trust,” she said. “Only the right to defend what my blood has already bled for.”

A murmur rippled through the chamber. The old warriors shifted in their seats; some nodded, others scowled. Edith’s mouth curved faintly, as though she had expected defiance and found comfort in its predictability.

“Very well,” the elder said. “Show us you are more than a cursed name.”

The trial began at once.

Swords clashed in the training ring beneath the hall’s open roof. Rain finally broke through the clouds, slicking the marble as Alaiya faced Captain Bailey Tyler—the council’s chosen challenger. He was older, broader, his wolf scarred by a dozen campaigns. Yet she moved with precision born of fury and discipline, each strike a controlled echo of the chaos that had burned the night Sean rejected her.

Bailey pressed forward. “You fight like a woman possessed,” he grunted.

“I fight like a ruler,” she answered, twisting past his blade and disarming him with a sweep that cracked against the stone. His sword spun out of reach. Silence followed—shocked, heavy.

Edith’s voice carried across the ring. “Moonvale acknowledges your strength. But strength alone does not unite packs. Will you accept the council’s guidance?”

Alaiya looked up through the rain, hair clinging to her face. “I will accept counsel,” she said evenly, “but not control.”

A flash of heat swept through the watching wolves. Some bowed their heads in approval; others whispered curse under their breath. The title had already begun to stain her. The rejection mark that had once glowed beneath her collarbone was gone, but rumor said its absence had cursed Moonvale’s prosperity. Crops failed, rivers shrank. People wanted someone to blame.

When the trial concluded, she retreated to the inner courtyard, where the storm had thinned to mist. Lucia followed silently, carrying a stack of petitions from the lower packs.

“They call you the Silver Curse,” Lucia said softly.

Alaiya tilted her face to the rain. “Let them call me what they fear. Fear still commands respect.”

Her reflection in the puddle looked nothing like the girl who had stood at that altar weeks ago. The ceremonial silks were gone, replaced by the black and silver armor of Moonvale’s Guardians. Beneath the steel, her wolf stirred—restless, half-healed.

“Your wounds will reopen if you keep training at this pace,” Lucia warned.

“They already have.”

A horn echoed across the valley before Lucia could answer. Not the alarm of war—something older, diplomatic. Alaiya turned toward the balcony. A messenger stood at the outer gate, banner dripping with Northgate’s emblem: a black wolf against silver glass.

Lucia paled. “They send envoys?”

“No.” Alaiya’s voice dropped. “They send him.”

Minutes later, the letter lay open on her desk. The seal bore Sean Silva’s crest—precise, immaculate, devoid of sentiment. She read the words once, then again.

To Princess Alaiya Andersen, acting Regent of Moonvale,
By decree of the Lycan Alliance Board, a joint conference will be held in the neutral territory of Varron Heights to discuss reparations, trade, and future cooperation. Attendance mandatory. Signed, Alpha King Sean Silva, Northgate.

Mandatory.

Her claws pricked against the paper before she caught herself. Of course he would use that word—formal, cold, dictating terms as if she were a subordinate, not the woman he had once nearly claimed.

Lucia hovered nearby. “Will you go?”

Alaiya folded the parchment. “I have no choice.”

“You could send a delegate.”

“I could,” she said, “but then he would think I’m afraid.”

Outside, thunder rumbled again. Somewhere beyond the horizon lay Northgate’s steel towers and the man who had shattered her under the blood moon. She wondered if he still carried the faint scars where her claws had marked him. She hoped they burned.

That night, the Citadel came alive with preparations. Couriers ran through the halls, armorers polished blades, scribes drafted new treaties in case of truce or war. Alaiya watched from her balcony as the lights flickered below. She had once loved this view—the endless forest stretching toward the silver peaks—but now every shadow felt like judgment.

Her thoughts drifted to the prophecy fragments the elders refused to destroy. The Moon-Marked Princess shall bear the heir of unity or the seed of ruin. The words haunted her dreams. If they ever learned the truth—that the heir already existed, hidden far beyond the city—they would turn from her completely.

A soft knock broke the silence. “Enter,” she said.

Captain Bailey stepped inside, freshly bandaged from their duel. “Forgive the intrusion, Highness. The council sends their regards—and their warnings. They fear Northgate intends to annex our southern borders under guise of diplomacy.”

“Let them try,” Alaiya said. “Moonvale still has teeth.”

Bailey hesitated. “If I may speak freely?”

“You always do.”

“The people need to see unity. Whether through alliance…or something stronger. They whisper that only a bonded Luna can lift the curse.”

Alaiya turned sharply. “Do you suggest I crawl back to the one who humiliated me?”

“No, Highness. Only that symbols still rule hearts. A Luna binds more than an Alpha; she binds belief.”

She dismissed him with a wave, though his words lodged deep. When he left, she stared at the rain beading across the windowpane, each drop catching the moonlight like shards of glass.

Sean had called her a symbol once. Maybe he was right. But symbols could become weapons.

Dawn arrived in a wash of silver clouds. The air smelled of wet stone and pine sap. Alaiya stood on the ramparts in full armor as the banners of Moonvale unfurled—black, silver, and violet. Her escort of Guardians assembled below, fifty strong. The journey to Varron Heights would take two days through contested lands.

Lucia adjusted the clasp of her cloak. “If this is a trap—”

“Then we fight our way out.”

The handmaiden sighed. “You sound like your father.”

“Good. He survived five assassination attempts.”

Alaiya descended the staircase, each step measured. Courtiers parted before her, bowing low but never meeting her gaze. To them she was both sovereign and curse, savior and warning. She accepted their silence as tribute.

At the courtyard gate, Edith Hale awaited her. The elder’s staff glimmered faintly with lunar sigils.

“Leaving so soon after reclaiming your seat?” Edith asked.

“I serve Moonvale where it matters.”

“Beware what matters most, child,” the elder said. “The moon remembers debts unpaid.”

Alaiya inclined her head but did not answer. She mounted her horse, black as obsidian, and led the column toward the forest road. The rain had stopped; only mist clung to the valley, curling around the ruins of the old altar.

As they passed, she glanced once at the broken seal. The stone still bore the faint scorch of her lost mark.

She whispered under her breath, too low for anyone to hear: “I will never kneel again. Not to him. Not to prophecy.”

The vow settled like iron in her chest.

Far above, hidden by the thinning clouds, the moon shifted from pale to crimson for an instant—just long enough...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 1.11.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Kinder- / Jugendbuch
• ISBN-10: 0-00-109582-X / 000109582X
• ISBN-13: 978-0-00-109582-3 / 9780001095823