Filed to story: The Lycan's Savage Luna (Wren Tristan & Killian) Book PDF Free
Down by the greenbelt, Tristan Blackwood must’ve felt the weight of my gaze-or maybe just the ghost of it. His shoulders stiffened, his instincts whispering danger, but by the time he looked up, I was already past him.
The fool frowned, muttering something about reckless drivers. I could almost hear his thoughts-how he’d buy Wren a new place once they “made up.”
Pathetic.
He didn’t even recognize the predator watching him from the shadows.
By the time he looked up again, I was gone, and he was already fantasizing about their reunion, about touching what no longer belonged to him.
I parked in the underground lot, grabbed the plastic bags filled with groceries and a small cake, and took the elevator up. Wren had just threatened to order food delivery if I didn’t hurry.
The things she said-her tone-most Alphas would take offense. I found it… endearing.
Inside the elevator, I ran into an elderly couple. Sweet, harmless humans from the building.
Since my injuries had healed, I’d stopped masking my scent,of course not my full Alpha scent. The concealment spells had worn off. Wren sometimes dragged me out for night walks when she overate. The sight of us together had drawn plenty of attention.
The neighbors assumed we were newly mated-a young pair from a noble lineage, living quietly among humans. “The perfect couple,” they called us. The thought amused me.
The old woman smiled kindly. “Young man, did you see that black car downstairs? The driver’s been hanging around your building for weeks. We’ve seen him knock on your door-once your wife went to take out the trash, and he wouldn’t leave her alone. The guards had to step in! You better be careful, protect your mate!”
Your mate.
I didn’t correct her. In fact, I rather liked the sound of it.
I gave her a polite nod. “I know him,” I said smoothly. “That man’s a married scoundrel who’s been stalking my mate. He can’t take no for an answer-even after I told him we’re bonded. Claims he’ll ‘take her back’ no matter what. We’ve tried reporting him, but he always slips away. His poor wife’s still in the hospital.”
The couple gasped in horror. “That handsome young man? The nerve of him! Shameless!”
I sighed, playing the weary husband. “We just want peace. But thank you for warning us-it means a lot.”
By the time I reached our floor, I could already hear the grandmother typing furiously on her phone.
Within minutes, the residents’ chat group exploded.
“That guy downstairs is a homewrecker!”
“You mean the tall one with the car? He’s got a wife in the hospital and still chasing another woman?”
“Disgusting!”
“I heard he’s violent too-probably the reason his wife’s in the hospital!”
“Oh my goddess, there’s a stalker in our building?!”
The rumor spread like wildfire, mutating with every message.
By the time I reached my door, Tristan Blackwood-Alpha of the East-was being surrounded by a pack of furious humans. Someone had called the guards. Others were shouting to call the police. A few even kicked him.
Through the security feed on my phone, I watched him get pinned against his own car, face contorted with shock and rage.
The great Alpha reduced to prey.
Rafe purred again, pleased.
Poetic justice.
After all, while he was choking on humiliation, my little rose was upstairs waiting for me-impatient, hungry, alive.
Wren’s POV
The strawberry shortcake melted softly on my tongue while I waited for my so-called Snail Prince to finish cooking. The sweet cream was still cold, sticky against my fingertips, when a sudden commotion broke through the quiet air below our den.
My ears twitched instinctively, wolf-sharp. “What’s going on down there?” I murmured, half rising from the couch. The Moonvale apartments rarely saw chaos; the noise prickled my curiosity until my wolf itched to investigate.
I padded toward the balcony, bare feet silent on the wooden floor. I would have leaned over the railing to catch the scent of the fuss-if Killian hadn’t stepped out of the kitchen.
The Alpha of the Shadowbane Pack didn’t need to raise his voice to stop me. His presence alone was enough.
“Wren Vale,” he said, steady and low, “get me a glass of water.”
His tone left no room for argument, yet not a hint of aggression-just that lazy dominance that wrapped around me like smoke.
He was still wearing his black shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal sinewed forearms dusted with silver scars. Behind him, the scent of seared fish and wild herbs drifted from the kitchen-fresh kill and hearthfire, blending into something wholly Killian.
I grumbled under my breath but did as told. You didn’t say no to an Alpha who was feeding you dinner.
When he drank, his throat moved in one long swallow. He set the glass down, eyes already cutting toward me again. “Hungry, aren’t you? Then come help.”
Help, right. The moment I turned toward the balcony again, his hand closed around my wrist-light, but absolute.
“Killian,” I protested, “I just want a look-“
“Inside.” His voice dropped, low enough that my wolf instantly flattened her ears.
I hesitated, then sighed in defeat. The
Shadowbane Alpha could glare better than any elder back home.
So I trudged after him, shoulders slumped, muttering like a scolded pup. At least he didn’t expect me to actually cook; mostly I passed him spices or stirred the sauce while he handled the knives like extensions of his claws.
By the time we ate, the noise outside had died completely.
I couldn’t help glancing toward the balcony again, restless curiosity gnawing at me. “Whatever that was,” I said, “it’s over now.”
Killian didn’t answer. He was cutting fruit, the blade gleaming. His scent-iron and cedar-kept brushing over my skin, grounding and dangerous all at once.
When the plates were clean, I pulled my phone from the table and opened the Moonvale residents’ chat. I never checked it-too many human neighbors talking about grocery prices-but tonight, I was nosy.
Killian brought over a platter of washed berries and sat beside me, close enough that our shoulders brushed. He didn’t even pretend not to read over my shoulder.
“Apparently,” I said, scrolling through the messages, “someone spotted a rogue on our territory tonight. A creep, they said. The humans tried to call security, but he drove off before they could catch him.”
Killian’s fingers brushed a strawberry from the plate and bit into it, unbothered. “A rogue?” His voice held a faint growl.
“Mm. They think he might’ve had a mate in the hospital-someone saw him take a call before leaving.”
The chat was a storm of gossip:
– We should remember his face, report him next time.
– Such a shame. He was handsome, though.
– Handsome doesn’t mean safe, people!
– Could be a killer on the run, changed his face. You know those stories!
– Stop, I’m already scared to sleep tonight!
– @Zane next door, you’re a black-belt, right? Protect us!
– Only 9 coins for 24-hour protection!
I snorted. “Moon above, they’ve turned this into a market fair.”
Killian leaned back against the couch, long legs stretched, amusement glinting in his dark eyes. “Humans have too much imagination.”
“Or too little sense.” I giggled, scrolling further. The sweet smell of strawberries and ozone thickened around us.
He didn’t seem to mind the closeness. In fact, when I shifted to show him a particularly ridiculous comment, I ended up half leaning against his chest. The heat of him soaked through my thin sweater, steady and impossible to ignore.
I froze for a heartbeat, every instinct alert. His pulse was a low thunder against my shoulder blade. The faint rasp of his breath stirred the hair near my temple.
If he noticed my tension, he didn’t show it.
His hand rose, slow and deliberate, and brushed a lock of hair from my collarbone. His fingers lingered just long enough to make my wolf’s tail flick in confusion.
He murmured, almost to himself, “You smell like rain on moss.”
The words curled around my spine.
“Don’t get poetic with me,” I muttered, trying to ignore the tremor that ran through my voice. “We’re just reading gossip.”
He hummed, deep in his chest, a sound more instinct than speech. “You’re laughing,” he said softly. “That’s good.”
I bit my lip, half-smiling. “You trying to keep me from sneaking downstairs again?”
His eyes-steel grey, faintly luminescent-met mine. “If there’s a rogue near my territory, you stay beside me.”
It wasn’t a suggestion. It was an Alpha’s decree wrapped in velvet.
For a moment, silence settled between us, broken only by the faint hum of the night outside.
Then the chat pinged again, another message popping up: *’Don’t worry everyone, I’ll guard the gates tonight!’*
I couldn’t help it-I burst into laughter, shaking so hard the phone almost slipped from my hands.
Killian’s low chuckle joined mine, rare and warm. His fingers tangled briefly in my hair, absently twirling a strand between them.
