Pregnant After One Night With The Lycan

Chapter 60

Pregnant After One Night With The Lycan By Kellie Brown

Chapter 60 Masquerade

Marco’s POV:

I generally detested banquets of this nature. It obviously didn’t help that I was a part of the royal family that used every God damn excuse to host events like this. My experience with royal banquets made me a*s*sume they were just all so fake.

None of the noblemen liked each other anyways, whether due to politics, or rivalry for power. Their greasy hair slicked back against their balding scalps. Whilst their royal wives rotted with jealousy over this girl and the next, as they were caked to the heavens with an unnecessary amount of powder that was somehow overshadowed by their ma*s*sive air balloon shaped dresses.

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However, I soon realize that my negative a*s*sumption of the Blue Moon Pack’s banquet is oddly wrong.

As Tanya, Claire and I step into the main ballroom, the atmosphere feels light, and weightless. Despite the evening darkness that shimmers through the grand windows, the room emanates brightness. With sheer sky -blue curtains tied back stylishly, while walls are decorated with pearly design patterns.

Due to the Blue Moon Pack’s economic issues, they understandably didn’t have the same luxuries as other wealthier packs, and the ballroom here is dwarfed by even the palace’s smallest rooms. But, they seemed to know how to well manage what money they did have, and the residents seemed eager to volunteer to help for special events like this one.

The days leading up the banquet, I agreed to watch Claire on multiple occasions, since Tanya often went over to Mrs. Monroe’s bakery shop to help the older woman bake treats for the evening. I eye the table where rows of gorgeous deserts lay at the ready to be engorged. And Claire had told me that her school cla*s*s was among those chosen to help hang up the decorations the day before. And now I see the sparkly silver ornaments that slung from lamp to lamp.

I wonder how Eric could be so arrogant. Despite their economic drawbacks, the pack lives in harmony, and has a beloved fondness for the tree that is central to the pack’s faith and beliefs.

And as I’m reminded by the monument, I recall how Tanya had been working night and day to reproduce a modified version of her Blue Moon Tree perfume. One that could last for hours. With that in mind, my head tilts back to inhale the deep aromatic scent that tickles my wolfish senses in all the right places, forming a small smile on my lips.

“You think it turned out alright?” my irises flicker open to the sound of Tanya’s soft-spoken voice. She peers up at me innocently with her delicate viridescent hues that are encased by a bright blue masquerade mask. Clearly aware I like what I smelled, I nod silently with the relaxed smile yet to fade from my lips as my eyes trail down to her dress.

She’s worn a gorgeous pastel blue dress. While the top is covered in intricate lace, it is cinched at the waist to maximize the puffiness of the bottom. The skirt is layered in white tools that lie on top of one another to make the skirt appear fluffier than it is.

I catch myself staring and shoot my gaze back up to watch her mirror my initial smile. She then must turn to Claire who adorably protests about her hunger. I chuckle softly. “Go ahead, I’ll wait nearby.”

Tanya rushes off after her daughter, whilst I trickle over to the corner of the ballroom. Even though the atmosphere is quite nice, it is still a lot of people, and I find much comfort in sitting on a chair in the corner, able to people watch from a comfortable distance.

Course, that’s when my attention is pulled by two familiar male voices.

“Is it done?” Caspian utters in a low tone.

“Yes, I’ve arranged for someone to pass the number to Tanya during the card drawing session. You’ll both have the number nine,” I hear Caspian’s Beta, Dylan reply.

It takes me a moment to realize what they are talking about. It was Claire who excitedly told me the conversations she had with one of her cla*s*smates whose parent was helping organize the event. Apparently, the adults are to draw number cards, and the men and women with matching numbers are to dance together for the first song of the evening.

Upon realizing what this means, my gaze narrows steely as the men confirm my suspicions, with Dylan speaking first. “The plan will work sir.”

“I really do hope so Dylan,” Caspian mumbles hesitantly. “Trust your gut Caspian, you’ve loved Tanya since the perfume contest five years ago. But you could not peruse her because of him,” says the Beta with conviction, but I don’t hear Caspian respond and a*s*sume he’s still unsure of himself. And so, Dylan continues. “You’ve responsibly suppressed your feelings all this time. But now that Tanya’s here, and in your pack for so long.

Now’s your chance sir. There’s never been a better time!” “You’re right Dylan,” the Alpha’s newly found certainty sparks a dangerous chill in my bones. “This is my chance. I will dance with Tanya tonight. And then, I’ll confess my love to her. It shall be done. Thank you, Dylan, for all your help. Cheers.”

I hear their glasses clink, and it only exacerbates my icy demeanor. And for once, both Manuel-my wolf-and I, agree on what needs to be done this evening.

Tanya’s POV:

Claire has satisfied herself with a bunch of desserts, leaving me chuckling despite the fact she shouldn’t be having sweets so late at night. But I’m unable to say much as the host announces the start of the main event for the ball.

It’s been the part of the banquet that I have been dreading the most. The host basically confirms my disdain. It is a dance, where the guests are required to pick numbers out of the glass bowl he holds, which determines partners for the first dance.

I must drag my feet to reach the podium, I withdraw a card and step away. But before I can look, I’m suddenly tripped from behind. I stumble before collapsing on my puffy dress that softens my fall. In my confused haze, I have lost sight of the card. I finally can stand, and find it gently resting on the ground, and pick it up to reveal the number seven.

Thing is. I’m not planning on participating in the dance anyways. My head has already come up with a couple of possible excuses I could use to whichever guy I get partnered with. Course I do feel a little bad for being a spoil sport. But I really don’t have the energy nor the mental capacity to facilitate anyone this evening. I just wait to go home later.

Either way, I fall inline beside many of the excited young women as the genders split on either side of the ballroom, with a veil drawn between us. Us girls organize ourselves in sequential order, and I expect that the men are doing the same.

The giddy murmurings eventually grow louder and louder, and when the time comes, the curtain ascends to the ceiling to reveal our designated partners. I inhale a deep breath, bracing myself to explain my circumstances to the partner I am randomly given. That is until…

I see the pants of his black suit first, my gaze trailing upward hesitantly to the remarkable chest hidden beneath a matching ebony suit and undershirt. The collar left undone it creates a V-shape, revealing his broad collarbone and neck. Subconsciously I already knew, but my eyes didn’t want to believe it.

Till a mask of a sharp inky black, trailed with intricate swirls of gold pigment frame the frosty irises of the man that once loved me. Marco…

I barely move as he takes the initiative to walk up to me. A hint of a smile registering on his lips. He out stretches a hand towards me. My gaze flickers between his hand and those benevolent eyes of his.

“May I have this dance?” I’m still too stunned to offer a response, but like the gracious gentleman I know he’s capable of being, Marco lowers his stance, lowering his stature and dominating figure to-

To bow to me. One arm crossed over his back, whilst the other resting across his chest in a chivalrous display. “Please… “

Marco isn’t the type to ‘request’ things, specifically from people he ‘believes’ he doesn’t know too well. This is sincere. He really does want to dance with me. I come to the conclusion that the universe has a strange way of inflicting both pain and pleasure onto its residents.

I suddenly feel honored. All my previous grievances towards this banquet wash away in that single moment. And so, my hands pluck the sides of my dress, and I curtsey down to meet him. NôvelDrama.Org holds this content.

Gaining my permission Marco resumes his poster that towers above me and takes my hand in his. Course I am nervous, because despite the beauty in this moment, I’m still not that good at dancing. And so, I’m conservative in my movements, tentatively trying to maintain pace alongside Marco’s graceful motions that have us gliding across the marble flooring.

Course, at some point I nearly trip over my feet, and I almost surrender to my embarra*s*sment, ready to take the fall. Till an arm swoops beneath my waist, righting me with swiftness. Marco twirls me to hide my miss step and spins me back elegantly into his arms.

The warmth that swirls inside me from this action alone makes me scarily giddy, and bliss overtakes me. This moment feels just like all those years ago. And I desperately cling on to it. And even though

there is music playing, I barely take notice. I’m entranced and contained in our own bubble of fortune, dancing to our own beloved tune that syncs our souls in ways I couldn’t describe and may never understand.

The banquet goes on for hours, and we dance away to our hearts’ content. Till of course I remember I have a child to care for. Course Claire hasn’t been too fussed that I have left her to play with the other children and eat all the candy her heart desires. But eventually, I can tell that my little girl is tired. And Marco agrees it’s time we head home.

Claire and I step outside just in time to see the fireworks. They explode into a gorgeous array of light that illuminates the night sky in dazzling colors. With a smile, we start heading home. And that’s when I see Caspian standing across the road. At first, I wonder why he’s standing outside on his own. Until I see the large bouquet of flowers cradled in his strong arms.