Pregnant After One Night with the Lycan
Chapter 59

Tanya’s POV

Caspian is quick in his greetings to Marco, with something clearly on his mind that he’s eager to spill.

“So, Tanya, have you ever been to a banquet?” he probes with a toothy smile.

“Um,” I have to stop myself from glancing in Marco’s direction upon recalling our night at the auction. With Marco’s memory loss, did the Autumn Equinox even count? “No,” my tone does not meet the energy of his anticipation, but Caspian doesn’t seem to notice it.

“Well, my dear, you’re invited to the banquet at the Blue Moon Pack!” I feel bad for not appearing more excited, I do try to usher on a pleased smile, but today’s events have really worn me out.

“The theme will be masquerade, and it will be taking place later this week! Almost everyone from the pack will be there,” he adds.

Upon hearing this however, a discomfort settles in my stomach. I never did good with such busy events. The environments of such balls are much too intense for me, I’m not much of a dancer, and I’m always too shy to strike up conversations with other people. Even in the Blue Moon Pack where I feel comfortable. I’d still prefer to stay within the comforts of my own home working on my perfumes.

I nervously scratch the back of my neck as I try to turn him down. “Um, I don’t know… it’s really not my scene,” and I look at him with an apologetic smile. “I do really appreciate the invitation Caspian, but maybe next time… “

Despite my attempts however, the Alpha is undeterred. “No way,” says Caspian with an eccentric flare to his tone. “You’ll love it! I know you’ll love it! It’ll be everyone you know from the pack, and there’ll be loads of delicious food.”

That’s when I hear Claire who stands beside me squeal with excitement. I have to internally sigh as she tugs at my shirt. “Mommy please can we go. Pretty pretty please.”

If it weren’t for my daughter, I would’ve stuck to my guns. But she had a long day, which ended on a sour note. This seemed to have lifted her spirits within an instant, and I didn’t feel like shattering it again tonight.

“Alright, will come,” Caspian almost adopts my daughter’s childish mannerisms as they both cheer in utter excitement. I don’t understand why he’s so persistent in me coming. Caspian knew I got along with the rest of the pack; it has already been five years. It’s not like I need to mingle and get to know them. And yet he seems well and truly enthralled now that he knows I’m coming, saying his goodbyes before heading off with a merry pep in his step.

Despite me trying to hide my discomfort and slight confusion, I turn to Marco, realizing that for once he is hiding none of his feelings towards the situation. As a heavy frown takes a deep seat upon his lips whilst watching Caspian disappear into the distance.

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I’m half-awake, my vision blurry and only able to make out mere objects through the darkness. It is the cold that has stirred my senses slightly, making my body shiver at its mercy. But when I reach out to pull the covers over myself, my hand collides with something solid.

Crash.

My eyes flutter open in alarm as I’m startled awake. But I’m not in my room. I’m standing outside my door, the cold wind brushing fiercely against my exposed skin that is left bare by my short nightgown. My breath hitches in uncertainty and confusion till I glance down to see one of my potted plants knocked over. The ceramic is cracked, and lays dismantled on the ground, while the soil muddily litters the steps up to my house.

I sigh, crouching down to clean up the mess, while I think about the fact that I am sleep walking again. When I had to jump off that cliff to escape from Dorian, I found my necklace damaged during the fall. The ruby pendant had a crack, and its once glossy reflection it gave is now dulled. Ever since then, I was periodically sleep walking during the night, with no conscious awareness until bumping into something that woke me.

But the sleep walking tendencies did eventually stop after I had Claire. So it is incredibly strange to me that I am sleep walking again, coincidently when Marco has reappeared in my life.

Speaking of Marco…

The door to his house opens and shuts, and I hear the man walk across the small patch of grass that separated our buildings. “Everything alright?” he asks, coming to stand beside me.

“Um, yeah I’m fine. I was just coming out for some fresh air, and I knocked over the pot by accident,” I say quickly.

“It’s really dark. And since the streetlamps are broken, I can’t really see,” I add, knowing that Marco is well aware of my lack of wolf which means my senses are deplorable in comparison to the rest of the pack wolves.

I choose to withhold the truth of the matter, not telling Marco about my sleep walking, and I of course can’t tell if Marco truly believes me or not. He simply nods silently before bending down beside me to help pick up the broken pieces. We do so quietly, and somehow, I feel a little uncertain with how quiet he’s being, wanting to desperately know what he’s thinking.

Finally, he speaks. “May I come with you to the banquet?”

I try and blink away the surprise on my face. I replace it a little unusual that he’s asking for my permission, as well as the fact I know he isn’t the greatest fan of banquets in general. But something about the look in his eyes tells me that something has changed, I just can’t pinpoint ‘what’.

I realize my silence, and I quickly respond. “Of course, you can come. Definitely. Claire would love it if you came along.”

He again nods, although I do notice some relieved tension in his expression, I don’t question it and we continue cleaning up the mess. Afterwards I say goodnight and I head inside and back to bed.

The next day is a typical workday for me, and by the afternoon, I’m walking home from work. The natural light is dimmed as the evening rolls around and the sun is slowly setting. Hence, I notice the contrast of artificial light at the corner of my vision.

I turn my head to see tiny light bulbs flickering with an orange glow that’s warm and enchanting. They’re each attached by a wire that strings them along the white picket fence that leads up towards my house.

I’m eager to follow them, like an entranced moth drawn to the light, I pick up the pace towards home. That’s when I see my house gorgeously decked out in the tiny light bulbs hung on the infrastructure surrounding it. Almost like little fireflies that sparkle calmly against the growing darkness.

But what draws my gaze away is the individual on my left. Marco is standing on a metal ladder, course I never thought his exponential height needed one. Nevertheless, I examine him quietly as he’s positioned by one of the street lamps, the main bulb has been removed whilst he tampers away at the electrical wiring inside its structure.

His brows are narrowed in focus, the sweat on his shirt and the ruffled look to his hair suggest he has been at it for a while. Course, eventually he notices me staring, gaze flickering up to me when he realizes my presence.

“You didn’t have to,” I say quietly, clearly aware he’s mending the broken light fixtures after my accident the other night.

“It’s good to have proper streetlight, especially during the darker months of the year,” says Marco in a logical manner, still focusing on the light fixture he was mending. “But it’s going to take a little longer to fix, so those little string lights will do for the time being,” finally, his gaze flickers back up to me, and although barely there, I swear I could see a small playful smile sneaking its way onto his face. “Plus, I think Claire would appreciate that no more of her favorite plants will get knocked over during the night.”

And just like that, his smile vanishes, and as if he’s never said a word to begin with, Marco returns to working on the wiring. He leaves me smiling and encapsulated in admiration, watching the silhouette of him working as the sky grows darker.

The soft glow of the lights jogs my memory to the day I stood outside the Moon Goddess Temple five years ago. When I first realized the lights had been fixed, the day when everything between us had fallen into place. The memory felt so similar and yet so foreign when compared to now, and my eyes can’t help but gloss over with moist sheen at the thought.