Pregnant After One Night With The Lycan

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.

Title of the document

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.

night and day to reproduce a modified version of her Blue Moon Tree perfume. One that could last for hours. With

that are encased by a bright blue

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

to watch her mirror my initial smile. She then must turn

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

is pulled by two familiar male

utters in a

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

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

men confirm my suspicions, with Dylan speaking first. “The plan will work

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

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

And for once, both Manuel-my wolf-and I, agree on what needs to be

Tanya’s POV:

shouldn’t be having sweets so late at night. But I’m unable to say

disdain. It is a dance, where the guests are required to pick numbers out of the glass bowl he

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

with. Course I do feel a little bad for being a spoil sport. But I really don’t

split on either side of the ballroom, with a veil drawn between us. Us girls organize ourselves in sequential order, and I expect that

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