The Moon Goddess’ Beast

By Alice M. Crosco

The Moon Goddess Pack is a secret that no one knows about, or so they think. The king of the Lycans, Wayan Feign, knows and sends his men to kill them. It is unsuccessful, which sends Gelia, head gamma and sister to the alpha, to the Lycan Kingdom.
Little does either of them know that Gelia and Wayan are fated mates. She is hell-bent on starting a war between the two kingdoms while he is hell-bent on mating her. But her brother, the alpha, demands for the king to come to his realm and see the devastation caused by his men.
They travel to this realm, with her leading the way and him blindly following her. Will the travel bring them close together, or is it the start of some long game to dethrone the king?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9781669850137

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The roiling gray clouds chase after a silver-cloaked rider gripping the red reins to her black horse. It is like a demon grunting its need to move at her urgings to go faster. Its eyes are wide and anger mars its coal black depths. Its nostrils are huffing out small bits of foggy breaths, adding to its look, with its mouth parted for bridle and bit that helps it gain more air in this race. Its hair does not move from its body, though, as it lies down it, like it is glued by the sweat shining on its coat.

This horse carries its burden well, as it mindlessly awaits for the black-gloved hands of its rider to direct it toward the quarry.

She seems to be trying to make it outrun the darkness that is spread from the green fields to the woods. It has turned the air chilled, making her spine stiffen against the shivers threatening to take over her. And the moisture is clawing and gripping to her brown leather boots and gloves. It makes her feel sticky on tanned body . She can feel the wind picking up more than her horse creates from its fast pace that makes the wetness feel like caked on mud. The leaves are ripping off the towering trees and the blacked-out bushes from it and disappears into the darkness like a monster has eaten them. Her tension grows more and more seeing this and adds to the ickiness on her. It is just a storm, she thinks, feeling its threat to ruin her peach-colored skirt that is fluttering over her horse’s rear with her cape.

She cannot help a quick flit of her orange eyes with her fangs starting to sprout over her dark pink lips. She is sure that she sees something in the woods. It speeds up her heart thumping it harder in her chest, which heaves her breasts almost out of her peach-colored bodice. A taste of blood slips into her mouth from a cut by her sharp wolf’s teeth that makes it hard to contain the beast inside who wants a fight.

Her quarry is not in the woods but at the end of this hardened dirt path. The sight of it makes her slender face tighten. Her freckles darken on her cheekbones, and the dark circles under her eyes seem to get darker with a fresh blossom of anger. It coils around her, pressing her to shift and taste the blood of her enemy coating her mouth. She wants more than just a taste, though. She wants to drink it, seeing the reason for her desire pounding in her mind like a lover wanting release from their pleasure. But for her, it is an agonizingly, slow death she will give them.

It is the memories replaying in her head that she wishes she could forget that fuel her need for vengeance against these people. She flares her pointed nose, trying to suck in deep breaths between her anguish and the need to seem calm. The beast wants vengeance on all those in the gray stone castle poking above the tree line. It looks intimidating and fierce in this sparse light.

She wants to be admitted so she can enact her darkest desires on each man, woman, and child, letting them know of their trespass.

She can see the towers’ red roof growing taller the closer she gets to the gray stone wall that stands impervious to her will. Supposedly, the wolves’ blood was used as mortar, she tells herself, remembering her history lessons. A scoff slips out of her finding her throat as dry as her eyes, which have shed too many tears these last two weeks. There are no more for her to give to these people, she thinks, clenching her teeth and made her fangs retract some. The wolves have no more to give that the Lycans haven’t already taken.

Her slender body stiffens as she can see parts of the castle through the branches and the green leaves. The battlement, the watchtowers, and the four towers that face the back are all dark and dreary with the threat of the impending rain. All are made of gray stone that looks impenetrable from its structure that has no chips or anything loose to help knock it down. There is not even anything jutting out that will give them footholds to climb to get into the castle, making it all look smooth and glossy.

She wants to believe the darkness is from her nearing to the brown wooden gates. It makes her yank on the reins to slow down before she careens into it. She turns her head up, looking at the bland side of the castle that is made for the secret traveler seeking to enter without notice.

Something long and slender sails through the air to the other side of the wall when she is stopped at the gate. An evil smile twists her lips upon seeing it, wishing that she could commit to the war that drums her heart. It will repair the pain eating her alive to become the beast that wants to murder everything in sight. She must erase it, though, putting on her angered face to show that she means business while dealing with the men guarding the wall.

Her horse comes to a halt just before the gates, sounding haggard, with its hoarse neighs making her pat its neck firmly. She even whispers her apologies and praises for racing to the castle ahead of her party. She wanted this moment to throw them off. She also wants to use her werewolf hearing to see if she could glean any information, but it is the normal rushing around and crying taking their positions.

State your business, woman! a man yells, jerking her attention upward.

She releases her hood, letting her curled midnight black hair fall around her shoulders, disliking that it is not pulled back. This is all a show, she reminds herself, narrowing her eyes on this man above the gate in a stone-covered watchtower, making it harder to see him in the darkness. Thankfully, her wolf’s vision lets her see that he is wearing metal that shields him from an impending attack. It only makes her want to laugh, knowing that she can kill him with a snap of his neck so quickly that no one will know what has happened. His beady brown eyes are hardened and focused only on her, which is as much as she will get from this man. It makes her sad that she cannot see his face. She wants to imagine the shock on it when she gets to kill him, but for now, she is only a messenger.

I said to state your business! he yells again, sounding harsher than before.

I heard, she calls, playfully batting her eyes. "But I wonder, Lycan, why you are aiming all those arrows at me. I’m just a lone woman."

Aye. He scoffs and then spits on the ground, showing that he is not buying it. A spear was thrown over the wall with a head on it just before you arrived.

Then my party has arrived, and Lycan King Linnaeus has been given my alpha’s message, she states merrily.

King Linnaeus Feign The Great is dead, he snaps, sounding like she should know that. Long may he reign with the Moon Goddess.

May his Lycan be recycled, she responds solemnly, bowing her head in respect before raising it quickly. Pray tell, who rules the kingdom now?

His son, Lycan King Wayan Feign, he answers grudgingly.

Then if it is not another ruler of another family, she calls tartly, almost growling in frustration, I will give my alpha’s message a meaning that he understands. She wants war with the Lycan scum, hating each and every one on the wall waiting for her to make a misstep. If I have no response from him, then I am to presume that he wants war.

War . . . with a pack. The man laughs, causing the others to join too, which makes her smile tighten. She merely jerks her brows at him and gave a saucy look that she hopes will gain her favor while trying to store her anger down deep. "Now you pray tell, what is your name and pack?"

I am daughter of the former Alpha Ricckard Staff, she begins, listing her credence proudly and straightening her back with each one, twin sister of the current Alpha, Devan Staff, and Head Gamma, Gelia Fawn of the Moon Goddess Pack.

Moon Goddess Pack? he questions, sounding uncertain about her truth, but she knows he can smell it as well as she can. What town or pack lies near you?

We are not of this kingdom, Gelia replies sharply feeling her anger brew higher. She is struggling to maintain it. Her want of blood beats in her to have it, which makes it harder to keep herself in check. It showed when her voice keeps taking on an edge. Your king has done a great disservice to my pack after all these years of peace from Lycan King Linnaeus. I am the messenger who must bring answers to the questions my alpha and brother has. If the Lycan King does not admit me to answer those questions, then I have the authority to burn the castle down.

I wish you luck on that, Woman. He laughs until he hears the clanking of metal and wheels coming around the bend.

A brown horse appears first before it shows the wagon carrying Lycan men and women. The wooden bars are looking dirty, and they are shackled to one another, bearing frowns on their faces with worn-out looks from the long journey. None of them look happy to be here, and they even huddle together, showing their fear, especially as ten more horses ride up behind them. The neighs and commands for them to stop sound in this small clearing that has the men looking at them worriedly. One in particular catches the man’s eyes, narrowing them on a black-clad man draped over a horse before hidden by the horses.

I suggest that you hurry for these Lycans’ sake, Gelia states, waving to them with a smile on her face.

The message is being delivered, he confirms, flicking his eyes to each one.

Start the sand! Gelia commands loudly, turning her back on him.

She has a good feeling about her plan going exactly the way she wants while her wolf is dancing in her head. However, it seems to be a familiar restlessness that has her hackles rising and dread drumming her heart. Her grief is too strong for her to notice the difference, which makes her angrier that she is not left alone to mourn. Still, she must focus solely on delivering this message and causing a war between the Lycans and her pack. She knows that she will be victorious over these beasts.

CHAPTER 2

Inside the castle, chaos is erupting from every room where Lycans are starting to prepare for a battle. Men and women in armor walk through corridors, patrolling them, or run to a stairwell in search of their position. The servants are gathering what weapons are left over by the soldiers and the upper ranks who have readied for the fight. All this is happening upon hearing that a lone woman has come demanding answers from their King, who has supposedly committed a grave error to a pack not of this kingdom. There are too many unanswered questions that leave them wondering how many are going to storm through, killing them, and what their chances of survival are. None knows, even this broad-chested man standing in the war room, looking at a large-scale map, searching for the pack’s name.

His brown eyes are momentarily drawn to the brown wooden walls gleaming with the generals who are currently in position. He is not interested in memorializing them. He needs their expertise and knowledge to guide him through each situation. They are either from his father’s reign or handpicked by him to lead his army through any battle. Some he does trust, and some he does not, which makes him shake his head wishing that he had put new ones in place of a few.

He shakes his head and returned to his search. He wonders why there are so many maps and scrolls in the slots to his left. They all fit in a brown wooden stand that is built into the wall, holding whatever information they need for their battle strategies and land. He can understand why there is a long brown wooden table and odds and ends that hold down the large-scale map for them to look for this pack. Every name of every noble’s domain and alpha’s pack is on it but that one. It makes him curl his pale pink lips inward frustrated in his search. His eyes harden, glaring at it west side with his pointed finger, feeling his body tense with his need to protect his people.

Today was supposed to be a good day to wear a black shirt and pants on his free day. He did not know it would be in preparation for a massacre. He had decided to not waste time in changing his attire. They do not know these people, and that is what scares this tall man, making his body hunch over further to read one that he thinks he may have missed. His lean tanned face is taunt in his anger and irritation at no one discovering where this pack is on this damned map.

He stands upright raking his hands through his long chestnut brown hair that has streaks of blond layered through it. He looks at the others searching each direction including the center seeing their dismayed and angered looks. It makes him pound the table once with a hand over his mouth as he struggles to figure out who their unknown enemy is that will take women and men hostage. Who will blatantly show this kind of disrespect to him, the king of the Lycans? He wishes his father were here for guidance and knowledge on these people who show murderous intent.

Nothing? he shouts at them with a growl at the end, showing his anger plainly on his face.

Your Majesty, a gray-haired man said as he tightens his round ruddy face. It shows his shame for not appeasing his king with his blue eyes downcasted, and his pale lips are pinched together. His round body is upright trying to show some dignity about himself, though. I’m sorry. I cannot find the Moon Goddess Pack on this map.

Neither can I. A brown-haired man sighs who stays hunched over, as the candlelight shines on his balding head. His small round face turns down with saddened brown eyes that look close to a deer dying in the woods after an attack. It could be a new pack for all we know.

Then they would not have said anything about King Linnaeus! a gray-haired man insists, looking rather worried. His gray eyes look around at each of them while keeping his lean body upright so he can feel tall as these other men who tower over him. A gray beard hides his gaunt face that will show he is worried like the others. And the guard swears that they have one of our men from our garrison in their camp.

None of this is going to help us until we know who we are dealing with! Wayan shouts at them. His anger is pushing his Lycan to show these men how to obey his command and give him answers, but he knows it will help. "We have to know our enemy so we don’t waste men on a battle. We cannot win a battle if they have the upper hand like they do now, should it come to that.

Berrick! he calls to the gray-haired man dressed in armor. We need to be prepared for anything. They threatened to burn the castle, so let’s have men and women ready to put out fires. Tomas—he turns his head to the smaller-built man—let’s get the archers ready to shoot anyone willing to burn it down. Make sure that they do not just shoot anyone. And, Willard—he turns to the gray-haired man who has tried to start an argument—we will—

Brother! a young woman calls, rushing up to him with her sandy-blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her pale face shows the fear blatantly like her blue eyes that are as dark as the stormy sea, nearly ready to let her tears come down her face. She runs into his body, with her arms coming to his waist and her head, just meeting his chest, drawing out an oof from him as he wraps his arms around her head and waist. It hurts him to see her like this, making him wonder who has told her that there is an impending attack on the castle, making this slender girl scared of what may happen to him.

Lavinia, Wayan says, pulling her from him for a moment to get a good look at her, pursing his lips together, it is all right. We are going to be fine.

No, the guards want to take me to my room for safety, she cries, looking at him pleadingly. And no one will tell me what is going on!

There are people at the gate threatening war if I don’t let them in to answer questions, he explains gently. This all has to do with something that our father did long ago that I supposedly failed to keep intact.

Who? Vampires? Goblins? Lavinia asks, listing off the names of creatures she knows will be inclined to fight them. Don’t tell me the fairies!

No. No one known to us, Wayan states firmly, looking at her softly. I’m going to resolve it.

What’s their name? Maybe I can help? Lavinia says eagerly, putting on a smile to charm him.

He sighs, looking down at his feet for a moment thinking whether he should say it. It is not that he does not trust his sister or that she is daft. He does not want her afraid to hear the name in case things go bad between this new regime and them. It makes him worry about the dreams she may have later. She does not need any weightiness put on her shoulders when she has a bigger problem that neither knows how to handle well. Besides, she is too soft for politics, war, and other things that he has consoled her over.

Moon Goddess Pack, he answers, finally, feeling the regret tear his heart upon seeing her eyes look dull for a moment before a light shines in them.

That . . . that sounds familiar, Brother, she says softly, tapping her lip with a finger.

Well, Moon Goddess would sound familiar, Princess Lavinia. Willard chuckles dismissively. We all worship her.

That’s it! she says, snapping her fingers. Dad told me a fantastical story about people who worshipped the Moon Goddess. They loved her so much and obeyed her commands . . . ugh! I can’t remember the rest, but I know that the last part scared me. I hope it is not them.

Why? Tomas asks, shrugging at Wayan, who throws him a dirty look..

Because they are peaceful until war comes to their land, Lavinia answers softly, giving a shiver. Father said that if that happens, then their enemy will know true pain.

The men’s brows shoot up, while Wayan looks at her thoughtfully. He puts a hand over his mouth, again, feeling unsure if he could believe that his father was honest about it or indulging his sister with a tale. They all want to protect her from the others who will ridicule her, especially for being so soft. She is like the sun in any room who brightens it up making a smile come to anyone’s face. He hates to be the sensible one except this is their father who was always more cunning than he ever could hope to be.

I would love to agree with you, Wayan says, choosing his words carefully. But I cannot until I have evidence. However, if it is and you are correct, I will see what I can do to get an audience with one of them like the alpha.

All right! Lavinia squeals happily, beginning to walk away.

Excuse me, Princess Lavinia, Berrick calls gently, leaning over the table. I have a question about the story your father told you. She nods as Wayan groans in frustration, drawing very little of their attention. Did he say that it was the Moon Goddess Pack?

I believe so, Lavinia says, frowning hard as she tried to remember. It has been so long since I have heard that story. Brother does not even know it.

I see. Tomas chuckles, flicking a glance his way, noticing the irritation on his face. One more question before you go. Did your father ever promise to take you to meet these people?

Umm, yeah . . . well, sort of, Lavinia says, wincing at her answer. I was almost asleep, and I guess he thought I was. He said something along the lines of ‘when I am older, I will see them,’ although I am not sure if I was dreaming or not.

That’s enough! Wayan snaps, giving a death glare to the men who stands before him. They look unashamed about their questions. However, Willard seems to be tenser than usual which makes him wonder why, but he has his sister to deal with currently. He turns his back on his councilman and looks at his startled sister. A smile to his facesoftens his features, which he hopes eases her fear. It is all right. We have to get to the throne room. The hour they gave us is nearly up, so you need to be in your room for safety.

Of course, Lavinia squeals and runs away with images of the story their father told her in her head.

He watches her walk away feeling the tension crawling through him. It is from the way the men behaved about something special given to her by their father. They do not understand that her imagination runs away with her, and he has been trying to instill something more reasonable. They have only encouraged a fantasy that has no merit nor any evidence to garner a conclusive belief in a story. He knows that his family has done things to help ease her pain, especially their father, and that tale could be one.

Wayan growls, glaring at them, I would appreciate it if you would not indulge my sister’s fantasies that he—

Forgive me, My King, Berrick interrupts softly, drawing the king’s angered look on him. But I believe that your sister may have one of the many secrets your father kept.

I agree, Tomas says, giving a nod. You have spent hours going through things, finding treaties and pacts here and there. You have also found that there were side pacts made by him. To shorten it for time’s sake, he may have given you and your sister the knowledge without you knowing about it. It is too bad your sister cannot remember the story in its entirety.

So you’re saying a bedtime story is real? Willard scoffs, scowling at them. We are not children.

You! Wayan points to a guard at the door who has red hair and gray eyes who turns and kneels, waiting for instructions. I want you to get two men and search my father’s office from top to bottom. I do not care if you have to tear every board from the floor or the ceiling! Just get it done.

Yes, Your Majesty, he says and then rises to run to his task.

You can’t be serious about entertaining your father’s story. Willard scoffs, almost laughing at him, which pushes his temper more.

Unless you have anything to enlighten us with about these people . . . Wayan grits his teeth, glaring at him, before he starts shouting, then shut up! I am not going to let my people die because I turned no stone over to look for the truth. Now let’s get to court.

CHAPTER 3

Gelia does not like waiting for a response from the Lycan King. She could feel her anger surging with each passing minute that turns it into seething that she has to abate. She wants to breathe in deeply to calm down, except it comes out in short shallow breaths that make her face flame up. Some of her people look at her worriedly, seeing her fangs elongate and then recede, with her beast’s needs trying to dominate her. She has to force a deep, cleansing breath in and then out attempting to expel her impatience.

When the time finally comes, they tell her that she is granted an audience with him. It does not make her happy, feeling like it will ruin her plans to start a war between her pack and the Lycans. Her frown only deepens, but she always prepares for things like this. Even as she walks through the darkened, gray stone corridors and halls, she snaps at her prisoner to move and calls him a dog. She lets the people see that she has one of their men that drew disgusted looks and whispers. Her frown tightened, so she will not smile at them all the while she knows that they are reporting it to their king.

She would have loved to take his heart and eat it to soothe her beast that demands retribution, but she is not allowed to kill him. Her alpha’s words are that she has to deliver him safely to the king, making it difficult to maneuver around them, even though they do not affect her. He will still punish her if she does not obey his command. However, there is nothing about his personage for after he has been delivered, which she hopes will make a bigger statement to that king.

Her growls and snaps echo through the halls, with men and women dodging out of her way. She knows there will be curious onlookers wanting to know who the new regime is and what they are like. It must shock them to see a female in charge, she thinks, smirking to herself, while her wolf is lapping up the fear exuded by them. She wonders if there are people below the few windows they have passed listening to her be the monster that she is and instilling fear.

Still, her wolf is prancing unnervingly in her head, making it difficult for her to keep her beast in its cage while doing her job. She mistakes its enthusiasm for blood from those who dare come near her, even the servant escorting her small entourage through the castle and to the throne room. She wants them scared of her so that the Lycans know they can never hurt them, again ignoring what it is telling her.

Finally, they reach a hall where there are a lot of windows showing the outside where armored men are readying for something. She merely glances at it, knowing that they will not survive what she can do to them no matter how much they try. A smirk lifts her lips. She turns back to see that no one is in this hall except for the guards whom they keep there for the king’s safety. Then she looks to the brown wooden doors that open for her people and the prisoners, taking in a deep breath, feeling her stomach tighten in glee. This is it, she thinks, feeling a giddiness starting to fill her body, blending in with the menacing anger. Her beast is growling in her head, feeling just as impatient as she is to meet this man.

She enters a well-lit room, making her wish for the dreariness of the hallways. A bit of curiosity hits her as she blinks to clear her vision while still walking forward, wondering how this silver-white room of all rooms is well lit. Her head turns up, and her eyes narrow, trying not to be blinded by the crystal chandeliers hanging from the tall ceiling. There are four of them that are refracting the light from the five windows up high on the right side of the wall. She notices that this ceiling is several feet high, making it about two stories tall. One fall from that height, and any werewolf will need days to repair, she thinks, feeling her brows twitch.

However, she focuses more on the mural of white unicorns playing in a meadow painted on the upper half. She is sure she knows, but for the life of her, she cannot remember. Or it may be that she does not care at this moment when she is in the lion’s den, waiting for its attack.

She turns her eyes onto him before slowly lowering her head to look at the man sitting on the white throne. He is leaning to the side, with two of his fingers hiding his lips while his elbow is propped on the armrest. There are two more thrones that remain empty—those of the queen and the prince—which piques her curiosity even more. She knows that there are certain requirements that are needed to make sure the line of succession is complete as well as the ruling bodies are intact. A queen and an heir are one of the most important for any ruler like her brother. This makes her question if their line is coming to an end or if he is waiting to marry someone, especially when he looks delicious.

She wants to scoff at him wondering if he thinks she is going to kill his family. Well, she might if she can get him to commit to the war that she desperately wants so those wounded by this massacre can have their vengeance. It does not make sense why he has no one beside of him. However, her people need war and not recompense like her brother thinks is necessary for all to heal. She knows that she must begin the plan, or nothing will happen in her favor.

Your Majesty! her prisoner cries, looking at him with hope.

Did I tell you to speak, Dog? Gelia shouts with a disgust in her voice that booms in the court and a snarl on her face.

She does not even see that people look disgusted at her, especially her wardrobe, which shows a lot of skin unlike theirs. The women are covered up to their necks, with only a few showing their chest, where their bosom rises and falls with each heavy breath. The men have their coats covering their bodies that hide their growing guts or just their toned physique.