BloodMoon: Captivated by the Forbidden Lycan Alpha
Chapter 300: A HOME IN HANKA ISLAND

Chapter 300: A HOME IN HANKA ISLAND

{"In the quiet light of morning, wrapped in the arms of the one I loved, I felt it a second heartbeat, fragile and new. In that moment, the impossible became truth, and love became legacy."} FREY KAYNE

{"I touched his skin expecting warmth, love, familiarity, but what I felt was a second heartbeat, impossibly small, impossibly real. In that breathless moment, I knew: our love had become something eternal."} TOR GALE

FREY’S POV

One Month later, the morning air on Hanka Island tasted of salt and promise. I stood barefoot in the soft earth where our home would be just beyond the cliff’s edge, where the ocean met sky in a seamless blur of silver blue. Tor was somewhere behind me, humming low under his breath as he shaped the timber beams. The rhythm of his work was steady, comforting.

A month had passed since we left the Ragar Mountain and Bay Shifter lands. Thirty days of learning the land, of chopping wood, setting stone, sketching the future with our hands and hearts. Some days, I still woke with echoes in my chest, flashes of Paradise Bay, of Gerod’s final roar, of ash, blood, and flame. But then I would roll over, feel Tor’s warmth beside me, and know I had something now. Something worth staying for.

"Does it feel like home yet?" Tor’s voice drifted over the hilltop, laced with sawdust and sunlight.

I turned, shielding my eyes from the glare, and watched him wipe sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. His shirt clung to him, streaked with earth and effort. Gods, he was beautiful.

"Not yet," I answered honestly, walking toward him. "But it’s getting close."

Hours later, the sun was just beginning to dip, casting long shadows across the half-built frame of our home. Tor had set the tools aside, wiping his hands clean on a rag as he stepped toward me, the corner of his mouth lifting in that quiet, knowing way that always made my pulse stumble.

"You’re staring," he said, voice low, amused.

"I’m allowed," I murmured, letting my gaze linger on the curve of his jaw, the way the fading light turned his skin to bronze and gold. "You’re mine."

His smile deepened, not smug, not teasing, and then he stepped closer, closing the space between us until I could feel the heat radiating off him, the familiar scent of pine and smoke clinging to his skin. He touched my cheek, fingers calloused from work but gentle as ever.

"You keep looking at me like that," he said, "and we won’t finish the roof before the next storm rolls in."

I chuckled, leaning into his touch. "Let it rain."

His breath hitched faintly at that, and then his mouth was on mine slow, sure, tasting of sun-warmed skin and something sweeter I could not name. I let myself melt into it, arms sliding around his waist, feeling the solid strength of him beneath my hands. There was no urgency, no rush. Just the rhythm of us, two hearts beating steady against the hush of the sea.

When we finally pulled apart, I rested my forehead against his.

"Did you ever think we’d have this?" I whispered. "A life like this... with peace, with love."

Tor’s thumb traced the line of my jaw. "I didn’t know how badly I needed it until I found you."

I closed my eyes. Let myself feel the truth of that, and behind us, the wind stirred the beams of our future home. The ocean sang softly in the distance.

"We’ll finish the roof tomorrow," he said, his voice a murmur against my ear. "Tonight, I just want this."

And so, we lay in the open frame of our house, beneath the stars and the rising moon, tangled in each other, hearts steady, breath shared. The stars had begun to scatter like embers across the darkening sky by the time we lay down on the smooth blanket Tor had pulled from the supply tent. The half-finished beams framed the night above us, a skeleton of what would become our home, and yet, with Tor’s arms around me, it already felt like shelter. His body curled around mine, one arm tucked beneath my head, the other resting over my waist, fingers brushing idle circles at the edge of my shirt. We breathed in tandem, the scent of salt and cedar between us. Every inhale drew more of him into me, grounding me, cantering me.

Tor pressed a kiss just below my jaw, then another at the hinge of my neck. The heat of his mouth sent a ripple through me. "You smell like wild roses and thunder," he murmured, voice husky, brushing his lips lower along my throat. "You always do before you’re about to bite me."

I smiled into the curve of his shoulder, turning slightly in his arms. "You say that like it’s a bad thing."

His answering growl was low, teasing, but there was tension beneath it, the kind born of want, of knowing, of the craving that went both ways. My hand slid along his chest, feeling the rise and fall of it beneath my palm, the way his heartbeat picked up as my fingers dipped lower, tracing the warm skin just above his waistband. Tor caught my wrist, gently, not stopping me, just savouring the anticipation. His eyes were gold in the moonlight, the shift already beginning in them.

"Bite me," he said, voice rough. "Freyr, I want to feel you."

The hunger stirred in me instantly, not just the thirst, but the need to connect. To claim and be claimed, and I rose over him slowly, straddling his hips as he lay back beneath me. My hands pressed against his bare chest, the steady rise and fall of his breath syncing with mine. He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, his thumb grazing my cheekbone.

I leaned down, brushing my lips over his, a slow drag of mouths that deepened with each kiss until he opened to me with a soft growl, his hands gripping my waist. My fangs ached with the nearness of his pulse, the scent of him thick in the air.

When I bit down, it was gentle at first, a teasing scrape at his neck that made him shudder beneath me. Then deeper. I sank in, feeling the rush of his heat flood into me, powerful and intoxicating. He held me close, fingers tangling in my hair as I fed from him, our bodies locked together in perfect rhythm. His blood was lightning and warmth, the essence of the man I loved, steady, fierce, unyielding. It filled me with more than strength. It filled me with him.

When I finally pulled back, licking the wound clean, Tor’s eyes were half-lidded, breath ragged. But he smiled, slow and satisfied, as he drew me down into his arms.

"My turn," he murmured against my throat.

His teeth grazed my skin, not biting to feed, just to mark. Just to love. The Lycan in him claimed me differently, through heat and touch, through the press of bodies and whispered promises. We moved together in the cool night air, limbs tangled, hearts racing, lips finding one another over and over.

Just two souls building something sacred, one kiss, one breath, one heartbeat at a time. When we finally stilled, we wrapped around each other beneath the skeleton of our future home.

Morning came softly, and the first light of dawn filtered through the skeletal frame of the house, gilding the edges of the beams in pale gold. A cool breeze drifted in from the sea, carrying the scent of salt, earth, and pine. I stirred beneath the warmth of the blankets, blinking slowly as I became aware of the world again, of the ache in my limbs, the taste of Tor still on my lips, the faint thrum of blood and magic humming just beneath my skin. Tor was wrapped around me from behind, his arms secure and strong, his breathing slow and even against the nape of my neck. I smiled, letting myself sink deeper into the cocoon of his body, the press of his chest to my back, the rise and fall of his breath like a lullaby.

His nose nudged gently at my shoulder before his lips found the spot just behind my ear. "Mmmmh, you smell heavenly," he murmured, voice gravelly with sleep.

"So do you," I whispered, fingers threading through his as they rested over my stomach. "Don’t let go just yet."

"Not planning to. Ever." He rasped.

We lay like that in silence, the kind of silence that is full of unsaid things, of promises already made in the night. He kissed my neck, then my shoulder, slid around to face me, brushing a thumb over my cheek.

"You were beautiful last night," he said softly, his eyes still shining with that gold heat, but gentler now. "You always are, but... There was something more. Like the entire world stilled around you."

I smiled faintly, lifting a hand to rest it over his heart. "That’s how you make me feel, like everything finally makes sense."

He leaned in and kissed me, slow and deep, and I felt it all over again that dizzying tenderness, that fierce devotion wrapped in warmth. When he pulled back, his hand lingered on my stomach, fingers absently stroking across the skin beneath the blanket. But then... his touch stilled.

His brow furrowed, and I blinked at him, confused, as he leaned closer, head lowered, hand flattening gently, reverently, over my abdomen.

"Tor?" I asked, voice cautious.

He did not answer at first. His breath caught, his eyes widening as if he were listening to something I could not hear. A beat passed. Then another.

And then he sat up, his face pale with awe and something like disbelief.

"You’re... Freyr," he breathed. "You’re pregnant."

I stared at him, heart slamming in my chest. "What?"

He was already kneeling beside me, hands trembling slightly as they hovered over my stomach again. "I can feel it. The heartbeat is faint, but it is there. Your magic has changed. It is not just yours anymore."

I felt it then. Subtle. Almost imperceptible. But real. A flicker of warmth deep inside me, unlike anything I had ever known. "I didn’t think..." I whispered, barely able to breathe. "It should not be possible. I am—"

"A vampire," Tor said, his voice filled with wonder. "And I am a Lycan. We are truly blessed, This is a new beginning."

He looked at me then, eyes glistening with joy and happiness. "I never dreamed..." I whispered, my hand moving over my belly. "A child."

"Our child," Tor said, his voice thick with emotion. "Freyr... we’re going to be fathers."

Tears burned behind my eyes, and before I could say another word, he pulled me into his arms, holding me like I was something sacred. We stayed there, wrapped in the rising light of morning, a future blooming quietly between us, fragile, miraculous, and entirely ours.

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