Filed to story: The Lycan's Savage Luna (Wren Tristan & Killian) Book PDF Free
The simple motion, casual as breathing, sent an unexplainable calm through my chest.
By the time we finished reading, the night had gone still again. The moon hung above the window, silver light spilling across Killian’s jawline.
He turned his head slightly, the faintest smile tugging at his mouth. “Next time you want to chase noise, little Vale,” he said, “at least wait until dinner’s done.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t fight the grin spreading across my face. “Yes, Alpha.”
Killian’s POV
The morning sun poured over the city like molten gold, carrying the faint tang of smoke and concrete. The world smelled alive, but even in its bustle, my senses picked out the familiar scent of Wren, curled beneath her covers like a small fox, her breath soft and steady. I’d barely returned from my early patrol when the Moonvale Pack’s group chat erupted again, vibrating her phone against the counter in a frenzy of human excitement.
I poured myself a cup of black coffee, wolf instincts twitching at the echoes of the neighbors’ joy. Humans never failed to baffle me-they shouted across invisible lines of text with the fervor of a pack celebrating a kill.
“Did you get yours?!”
“Got it! My husband’s already washing his hands to open the package-so careful, ha!”
“Mine’s posting ten pictures on social media now!”
“Pics or it didn’t happen!”
I let out a soft snort of amusement. Even without shifting, my hearing caught every nuance of their voices, every playful jab and gleeful shriek. To them, this was a feast worth celebrating; to me, it smelled like opportunity.
I had sent Jackson out early. It was my idea to thank the building for their unwitting role in helping Wren-their breakfast delivery a subtle, human-friendly way of showing gratitude while keeping her pack safe. I hadn’t needed her to see it, but now the effect was undeniable.
By the time Wren stirred, the apartment was bathed in warm light. She emerged, eyes still heavy with sleep, hair tousled, the natural scent of berries and sun-warmed skin drifting off her like a private trail.
“What’s going on?” she mumbled, blinking at the flurry of notifications.
I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, letting a small smirk tug at the corners of my mouth. “Your neighbors are losing their minds. Breakfast delivery-courtesy of our little pack’s gratitude.”
She frowned. “Breakfast?”
I handed her phone. She scrolled, her sleepy confusion giving way to delight and incredulity as the messages poured in.
‘It’s from 1601!’
‘Her mate ordered everyone a full feast from Grand Fortune Hall!’
‘Impossible to book! Even the Eastern Alpha Council dines there!’
‘Clearly wealthy… or madly in love.’
Wren’s brows drew together. “Mate?”
“Apparently, yes,” I said lightly. “The building has decided I’m your mate for the purposes of etiquette. I had Jackson distribute the breakfast to thank them for their… enthusiastic participation last night.”
Her eyes widened, a mixture of shock and bemusement. “You-sent breakfast to all the neighbors?”
I leaned back, letting my wolf stretch beneath the surface of my skin, muscles coiling like liquid steel. “I did. Consider it a defensive gesture. Keeps your pack safe and makes life easier for you. You’re welcome.”
Within the hour, the neighbors’ gifts arrived. Small boxes of pastries, regional snacks, and tiny treats appeared at our doorstep, ribbons and notes tucked neatly inside. Wren looked at them like they were a treasure hoard, hands hovering as though the slightest touch might ignite them.
“I… do we need to return the favor?” she asked, turning to me with that guilty, hesitant look of hers.
I chuckled, letting my wolf rumble softly. “No need. This is just neighborly exchange-call it a human version of pack diplomacy. Accept it.”
She muttered, “You sound more like one of the residents than I do.”
I reached for her, brushing a strand of hair from her face, and smirked. “Who keeps this den safe, cooks your meals, handles everything quietly while you sleep? Face it, Vale-you’d be lost without me.”
Her cheeks puffed in mock protest. “Stop that. Keep your distance!”
I let my wolf taste the tension, amused by her instinctive wariness. She was too used to me already, too relaxed around someone she barely knew-and yet, that was part of the thrill.
Then she asked the question I’d been waiting for, the one that always carried the scent of challenge.
“Killian… when are you leaving?”
The air tightened. I could feel her pulse, the subtle spike of adrenaline as her gaze fixed on me. My wolf stirred, alert, claws sheathing beneath my skin.
“Why?” I asked softly. “Do you want me gone, or are you making space for an old Alpha?”
She met my gaze steadily. “I’m not talking about Tristan Blackwood. I just… wanted to know your plans. You’re heir to the Shadowbane Pack. You can’t stay forever. And I have my own burdens.”
I watched her, senses tuned to every shift in her scent, every quiver of muscle. She didn’t realize how deep my instincts were rooting me to her presence.
“You think I’m here because I forgot who owns this place?” I murmured. “No. I’m here because this-right here-feels worth guarding. Worth fighting for.”
Her lips parted, a flicker of surprise, but she said nothing more.
Outside, the neighbors continued their clatter of human excitement. “Their love is goals!” “I’d die for that man!” “We’re the love guardians now!” Ridiculous, yet Wren couldn’t hide her smile.
I leaned back, letting my wolf relax just slightly, feeling the heat of her proximity and the subtle thrill of shared dominion. The apartment, the small gifts, the laughter-they all smelled like home now, a territory I would defend with tooth and claw.
And she, little fox Wren, would be at the heart of it.
“So, you have a crush on me?”
Wren’s POV
“Killian… do you think I have crush on you?”
I rolled my eyes, tail flicking beneath the covers of my wolfish instincts, amused by how often our conversations flirted along the edge of provocation.
“I allow you to have small thoughts about me,” he replied, his voice teasing, low and smooth like predatory silk.
“I suggest you wash your mind clean,” I shot back, teeth bared in mock threat.
Even in private, our words never managed two minutes of straightforward seriousness. It was strange-two wolves, both known for their cold, controlled demeanor, somehow managing to be impossibly mischievous together.
“Miss. Vale, you speak with half-truths. You tell me to leave, yet here you are, seducing me.”
I followed his gaze, and my stomach sank. My loose sleepwear, bunched awkwardly as I had sat on the rug between the tea table and sofa, my breast revealed far more than I intended. My heart raced, fur prickling along my spine-an instinctive warning-and I shot my hands up to cover myself.
“You’re yelling at nothing!” I exclaimed, cheeks heating like a bonfire.
Killian, sprawled casually on the sofa, leaned back and shrugged with that infuriating calmness of his. “You haven’t realized yet? The whole neighbors knows. They think we’re the perfect pair-Wren Vale and Killian Sanchez, the unmatched power couple of the Moonvale precincts.”
A scream later, and my palm connected with his chest in a sharp slap. “What rumors have you spread outside?”
“I’ve merely done a small good deed,” he said, eyes glinting. The Alpha scent that always clung to him-strong, commanding, metallic-made it impossible to deny that he enjoyed the chaos he’d created.
I slumped, overwhelmed by the absurdity of it all. One day, I was a recovering single wolf of the Vale bloodline; the next, married overnight by rumor alone.
“What if you leave after this is all settled?” My voice trembled with frustration, my claws pressing lightly against the rug beneath me.
Killian didn’t dodge. Instead, he leaned in, wolf instincts coiled and teasing, the scent of him sharp in my nostrils. “The best way to silence the gossip is to confirm it,” he murmured, low and dangerous.
I lifted my head, fangs catching the light. “What do you mean?”
His jaw flexed, eyes pinning me like prey. “Marry me. Wren Vale. I need a mate worthy of Shadowbane. I think you are fit.”
“Why?” The word slipped out before I could restrain it, a defensive hiss in the air.
He only smiled, wolfish and unreadable. “Because you need me as much as I need you. The Moonvale Pack has cornered you-taken your parents, your siblings, your legacy, even your grandmother’s heirlooms. You don’t hate her?”
We sat at opposite ends of the sofa, the unspoken tension between us shifting like shifting shadows. The fleeting warmth and teasing flirtation evaporated; now it was strategy, predators circling each other.
“You should know my history with her,” I whispered, “I owe her too much.”
Killian’s gaze didn’t falter. “Only fools believe a six-year-old can ruin a grown wolf’s life. You’ve doubted her, haven’t you? Even a little. And if you are so bound by hesitation, then look at the victim in the hospital-it shouldn’t have been Celestine Ward lying there.”
I swallowed hard, sensing the weight in his words. His eyes drilled into me, sharp as obsidian claws. “You hesitate because you know: words and scratches are trivial. If you declared war, you wouldn’t just face Celestine. You’d face the Moonvale Pack in full force. Take away her leverage, crush her pride-they won’t walk away unscathed.”
I shivered under the precision of his gaze. “You’re too calculating,” I muttered, though my wolf understood his truths instinctively.
“You’re too soft,” he said quietly, like a blade pressed to bare skin. “The sentimental lose more than the cold-hearted ever will.”
Killian shed the playful Alpha I’d glimpsed before. Now he was the heir of Shadowbane, ruthless, deliberate, the predator who would stop at nothing.
“Family is just a word,” he whispered, voice a low, dangerous hum. “It doesn’t guarantee worth. Wren Vale, the chance is before you. All the things you cannot do, constrained by the Vale legacy, are yours for the taking if you nod once.”
His words were temptation, silky and dark as a moonless night. The Vale had loved me as a child, imperfectly but enough to bind me. But Killian… Killian had no such attachments, no sentimentality. His patience and ruthlessness were his weapons, and my hesitation was a weakness he could smell.
“You only speak of what you can give me,” I said evenly, forcing my claws to stay retracted. “What price do you expect?”
He smiled, admiration flickering across his features. “Being Mrs. Sanchez is not easy. Life may not be calm. Danger may be constant.”
“And when your goal is achieved? Divorce?” I asked, voice steady, wolfish intuition coiling beneath my skin. “I’m not willing to risk my life for revenge alone. Marriage should be the union of two who love each other.”
He chuckled, dark and amused. “Marriage takes many forms. Yours is the most fragile.”
He leaned closer, voice low and teasingly insidious. “And what gave you the idea this is a sham? Even with an agreement, it’s real. A shared bed, shared life-are you avoiding the duties of a mate?”
Killian’s POV
I stared at her, amber eyes catching the morning sun through the half-closed blinds, letting the wolf beneath my skin shift, claws flexing against the restraint of civility. “I do not agree,” I said flatly, no room for debate.
