Chapter 2
Lila
“You!”
The booming male voice made me jump so hard I nearly dropped the wriggling pup in my arms.
I looked up from little Kyle’s fresh diaper to see Ronan “Rogue” Blackthorn filling the doorway of the pack daycare like a storm cloud given flesh.
His rich brown hair was tousled from his helmet, deep forest-green eyes wild with urgency.
Most Moonfang Wolves players were large, intimidating alphas built for bone-crunching checks on the ice, but Ronan’s frame dominated the space. Broad shoulders tense, powerful thighs straining his practice gear, the raw scent of him—pine forests after a fresh snow, crisp ice, and dominant wolf musk—rolled over me in a wave that made my knees feel suspiciously weak.
“I need you!” he shouted, green eyes locking onto me and only me.
Oh, stars above. In my late-night fantasies after arena games, he said those words in a low, gravelly growl while pinning me against a wall, not in this frantic, high-pitched panic. I shook the thought away, cheeks warming.
Focus, Lila. He’s your captain, not your mate.
“Mr. Blackthorn?” I asked, glancing from Kyle to the towering wolf shifter. Kyle, the six-month-old son of the team’s physical therapist, chose that exact moment to fill his fresh diaper again. Typical. These hockey
wolves made big pups with big appetites.
I quickly snapped Kyle’s onesie closed and set him on the play mat for tummy time, wiping my hands on a cloth.
“I have a pup!” Ronan barked, shoving a car seat in my direction. The tiny bundle inside stirred with a soft yip.
“I can see that,” I called over my shoulder, washing my hands at the sink. My fingers trembled slightly under the cool water. Being the sole focus of Rogue Blackthorn’s intense attention did things to a woman—especially one with latent shifter blood who could feel the pull of an alpha’s aura.
He looked lost, this fierce defenseman who commanded the blue line like a territory lord. No recent rumors of him with any she-wolf.
Just hockey, pack house life with his linemates, and brutal full-moon matches against rival packs like the Shadowfang Reapers.
“Mr. Blackthorn, come have a seat,” I said gently, tugging his massive arm toward the oversized reading glider we kept for the bigger players.
He folded into it, looking comically enormous, knees nearly at his chest. His wolf scent intensified up close—earthy, protective, with an undercurrent of raw panic that tugged at my instincts.
I took the car seat from him, settling it beside the glider before grabbing a bottle of water from the mini-fridge.
Our daycare was small and cozy, serving only a handful of pack pups at a time. Margaret and I handled everything, but I loved it. The work funded my degree in shifter pediatric behavioral science while giving me hands-on experience with wolf instincts, scent training, and early shifting signs. Pups this young rarely shifted, but the full moon could trigger tiny ears or fluff.
I squatted in front of Ronan, rocking the car seat gently. The pup— a beautiful little girl with dirty-blonde fluff slept peacefully now, her tiny nose twitching at my calming scent.
“Okay, tell me what’s going on.”
Without lifting his gaze from between his knees, he poured it out: the sudden summons, the surprise sire claim from a past casual encounter with Cedar, sole custody, the crushing weight of an 82-game season plus playoffs where travel, territorial rivalries, and moon phases turned every road trip into a potential blood feud.
I summarized softly, “So thirty minutes ago you were handed a daughter you didn’t know existed, and now you’re her sole guardian.”
His green eyes finally met mine. A swoon threatened, Ronan Blackthorn—Rogue on the ice, lethal in defense, and currently unraveling in front of me was devastating up close.
His gaze burrowed deep, stirring something latent in my blood that whispered pack, safety, mine. Goosebumps rose on my arms.
“Yes,” he sighed in relief. “I need a nanny now, you. I’ll pay triple whatever you make here. Move in with us at the pack house.
Kai and Declan will just have to deal with it.”
Holy moon. Live with three dominant Moonfang Wolves? The pack house was legendary—sprawling territory on the edge of Silverpine with reinforced walls, moon-run grounds, and enough testosterone to fuel a rut. I’d heard they carpooled to the arena, tight as brothers, but fiercely private.
Nerves fluttered in my chest. I was human-adjacent at best, with enough latent wolf traits (heightened senses, soothing aura) to work pack daycare but not enough for a full shift.
Moving in meant navigating alpha dynamics, scent marking, and the very real chance their wolves might see me as territory. But triple pay? It would crush my remaining tuition and let me focus on my degree.
Margaret caught my eye from across the room and smiled knowingly. She understood the financial strain and the pack’s needs. “We can’t have our captain distracted this early in the season,” she said later, waving me off after a fierce hug. “Go. The pups will miss you, but the team needs this.”
I hugged her back, heart racing. This was insane. Daunting. But when Ronan looked at me with that raw gratitude, my instincts sang.
“What’s her name?” I asked.
Panic flashed across his handsome face. “Oh moon, I don’t know! I’ve been a sire for thirty minutes and I’m already failing.” He glanced at the playing pups and winced. “Messing it up.”
“You’re not,” I reassured, patting his knee. The muscle there was rock-hard under my palm. “A bomb dropped on you. Do you have the case worker’s number?”
He fumbled for Mrs. Washington’s card. I dialed.
“This is Letty Washington.”
“Mrs. Washington, this is Lila, Mr. Blackthorn’s new nanny. He was in shock earlier—doesn’t remember the pup’s name.”
She chuckled warmly. “Annie Miller. Legally her dam’s name for now, but he can petition the council to change it. No known allergies. She’s a healthy little wolf.”
I relayed the info, reminded Ronan about the home territory evaluation tomorrow, and hung up. Strong arms suddenly wrapped around me from behind in a bone-crushing hug.
Ronan’s massive frame enveloped me, hard chest against my back, his wolf scent—pine and snow and something darker, possessive—flooding my senses.
A faint citrusy note from his post-practice shower lingered beneath the musk. My belly tingled with forbidden warmth.
“Thank you,” he rumbled, voice rough against my hair. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
I laughed softly, cheeks burning. He was warm, solid, and smelled far too good for professional boundaries.
I’d only ever lived with my college roommate, then my brother Sam, and our father in a cramped Silverpine apartment near the arena. This was jumping into the deep end of a wolf pack den.
“Alright, Dad,” I beamed up at him, stepping back before my latent traits made me nuzzle in. “What do you have pup-wise?”
He frowned adorably. “A car seat?”
I laughed. “We need to go shopping. Ward gave you the rest of the day?”
We said quick goodbyes to Margaret. As Ronan carried the car seat with surprising tenderness, his burly hockey-player arms cradling his tiny daughter, something flipped in my chest.
This aggressive wolf enforcer holding an angelic pup did dangerous things to my insides. When his grateful green eyes met mine again, I knew there was no turning back. Latent wolf or not, I’d follow this alpha into rival territory if he kept looking at me like that.
The Silverpine evening lights flickered on as we headed to his truck.
My phone buzzed—Sam checking in. I’d have to explain moving into the Moonfang pack house. But for now, Ronan’s wolf paced calmer beside me, and little Annie’s soft breathing filled the cab.
One full of fangs, full moons, and three dominant wolves who were about to turn my world upside down.