The Suppressed Luna: Awakening the Royal Blood

For three years, I swallowed bitter suppressant pills every morning. I dimmed my light and hid my identity as the Alpha King's daughter, all to be the perfect, submissive Luna for Santino.

I thought love was enough. I was wrong.

Santino brought a pregnant Rogue woman into our Pack House, claiming she carried his late Beta's child. But the way he touched her, the way he let her wear his shirt and sit at the head of my table, screamed the truth.

When I demanded respect, he didn't apologize.

He slapped me.

The strike echoed through the room, shattering the last of my restraint. He looked down at me with disdain, mocking me as a weak female with no family and no power. He even gave my dead mother's heirloom necklace to his mistress, watching as she broke it.

"You are nothing without my protection," he spat.

He truly believed I was a helpless Omega. He had no idea he was standing on land bought with my dowry, protected by Wards tied to my blood.

I wiped the blood from my lip. My eyes shifted from soft brown to a terrifying, glowing silver.

I reached out through the ancient mind-link he didn't know I possessed.

"Damien," I commanded the Royal Guard waiting in the shadows. "Destroy it all."

Santino wanted a war? I would give him an apocalypse.

Chapter 1

Alessia POV:

I stared at the small, white pill in the palm of my hand. It looked innocent enough, but it was the only thing keeping my world from burning down.

A suppressant.

Three years ago, I made a pact with my father. To prove I could lead with heart, not just heritage. To find a mate who loved Alessia, not the Princess. I had failed. For three years, I had swallowed this bitterness every morning. I did it to be the perfect, submissive Luna for the Silver Creek Pack. I did it to hide who—and what—I really was.

I swallowed it dry. The chalky taste lingered as I walked down the grand staircase of the Pack House.

The Pack House is the heart of any werewolf community. It is where the Alpha rules, where the high-ranking members live, and where the pack's business is conducted. It is supposed to be a sanctuary.

Today, it smelled like rot.

"She has nowhere else to go, Alessia. Have a heart."

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Santino, my husband and the Alpha of this pack, stood in the foyer. Beside him stood a woman I had never met, but my wolf bristled instantly.

She was petite, with teary eyes and trembling hands. But beneath the cheap perfume, I could smell it. The distinct, musky odor of a Rogue—a wolf without a pack, an outcast who had forsaken the laws of our kind.

"A Rogue, Santino?" I asked, my voice calm despite the turmoil in my gut. "You are bringing a Rogue into the Pack House? This violates the safety protocols."

Santino's jaw tightened. He was a handsome man, with the broad shoulders of an Alpha, but his eyes always held a glint of arrogance that I had foolishly mistaken for confidence years ago.

"She is not just a Rogue," Santino snapped. "This is Valentina. She was the mate of my late Beta, Marco. She is carrying his pup."

Valentina clutched her stomach, looking at me with wide, fearful eyes.

"Please, Luna," she whispered. "I just want my baby to be born in safety. Marco spoke so highly of you."

My inner wolf, usually sedated by the pills, stirred. She let out a low, warning growl in the back of my mind. Liar, she hissed.

In our culture, when a lower-ranking wolf meets an Alpha or a Luna, they bare their neck. It is a sign of submission, an instinctive acknowledgement of hierarchy. Valentina did not bare her neck. Instead, she looked at me, and for a split second, I saw a smirk curl the corner of her lips.

"If she carries a pack member's child, she can stay in the Omega quarters," I said, trying to maintain the order of the house. "We have guest rooms there."

"No," Santino interrupted, his voice booming. "She stays here. On the second floor. Beside our suite."

"That floor is for high-ranking officials only," I argued.

"I am the Alpha!" Santino stepped forward, his aura flaring. It was a pressure in the air, a wave of dominance meant to force submission. "And I say she stays where I can protect Marco's legacy. Do not challenge me, Alessia. You know you are too weak to withstand my command."

I lowered my eyes, not out of fear, but out of habit. The pills made me physically weaker than a normal Alpha female, and he used that against me.

"As you wish, Alpha," I murmured.

That night, the air in the house changed. Usually, the Pack House smells of pine and earth, the scent of our territory. But by dinner, Valentina's scent was everywhere. It was cloying, like over-ripe peaches rotting in the sun.

I tried to ignore it. I sat in the living room, reading a book, trying to be the dutiful wife.

"My ankle hurts so much," Valentina's voice drifted from the kitchen.

"Let me see," Santino's deep voice replied.

I stood up and walked silently to the kitchen doorway.

Santino was kneeling on the floor. Valentina was sitting on a chair, her leg extended. His large hands were rubbing her ankle, his thumbs digging into the muscle.

I froze.

To humans, this might look like first aid. But to wolves, scent is everything. Touch is everything. By rubbing her skin, he was mixing his scent with hers. This was grooming. It was an intimate act usually reserved for mates or parents and their pups.

He was marking her with his smell.

My fingernails dug into the wooden doorframe until the wood splintered.

Santino, I called out to him through the Mind-link.

The Mind-link is a telepathic channel that connects all members of a pack. It allows for instant communication, but between mates, it is supposed to be a private, sacred line.

What? His voice in my head was annoyed. He didn't even look up from her leg.

You are grooming her. Stop it.

I am helping a widow in pain, Alessia. Stop being so jealous and insecure. It is unbecoming of a Luna.

He didn't stop. His hand moved higher up her calf. Valentina threw her head back slightly, letting out a soft sigh that made my stomach turn.

I felt a crack in my chest. It wasn't a physical break, but something deeper. The bond, the respect I held for him, fractured.

I slammed the mental door shut. I blocked him from my mind.

He didn't even notice.

I went upstairs to our bedroom, but the bed felt cold. I didn't sleep. I listened to the sounds of the house. I heard his footsteps come up the stairs hours later. He didn't come to our room. He went to the guest room next door.

"She is scared of the thunder," he had told me once when I asked why he spent time with a female subordinate. There was no thunder tonight.

The next morning, I went down to breakfast early. The suppression pill sat on my nightstand, untouched. For the first time in three years, I left it there.

I walked into the dining room. Valentina was already there, sitting at the head of the table—my seat.

She was eating bacon, looking relaxed. But it wasn't her location that made my blood run cold.

It was what she was wearing.

She was wearing a white dress shirt. It was too big for her. The sleeves were rolled up.

It was Santino's shirt.

And it was soaked in his Alpha pheromones.