The Lost Lycan Princess And Her Bewitched Alpha

The sun had barely cleared the treetops when Cindy knelt on the kitchen floor, scrubbing the flagstones until her fingers burned. Pine scent drifted in from the open window; somewhere far off, a wolf’s morning howl rolled through the mist. Inside, the Hale house smelled of soap, damp laundry, and frying meat she would never taste.

“Don’t drip water on the rug,” Anna said from the table, swinging one bare foot idly. She bit into a slice of pear, golden hair glinting in the sunlight. “Mum hates wet footprints.”

“I know,” Cindy murmured, keeping her rag moving.

“You always ‘know,’” Anna mocked. She tossed the pear core into the sink with a wet slap. “Clean that too.”

Cindy’s hand faltered for a heartbeat, but she forced her rag to keep scrubbing.

“You should be grateful,” Anna added lazily. “Mum says if she hadn’t found you, you’d have been eaten by wild animals. Imagine, tiny little you, screaming in the dark. Instead, you’re here with a roof and food.”

Cindy swallowed hard. She had imagined that night too many times: a baby in the woods, crying, abandoned. She had also imagined a different ending, being taken in with love instead of scorn. But the Hale version was the one she lived with.

The back door creaked, and Mrs. Hale swept in. Her perfume was sharp under the scent of pine, her dark hair pinned neatly at her nape. “Anna, darling,” she said warmly, “are you getting ready for the festival?”

“Yes, Mum,” Anna replied sweetly, straightening like an angel.

Mrs. Hale’s smile vanished as her gaze landed on Cindy. “Still on the floor? You’re slower than ever. The festival is tonight, and this house looks a mess.”

“I’m almost done,” Cindy said quickly.

“Almost doesn’t count. Finish up quickly, I need you to deliver something to Luna Lydia for the festival.”

“Yes, mother,” Cindy whispered, wiping off sweat that was dripping from her forehead with the sleeve of her dress.

Cindy had hardly taken a breath when Mrs. Hale came back from the kitchen. She sighed sharply and handed her a covered dish. “Take this casserole to Luna Lydia. And ask if she still needs the decorative platters for the head table. Try not to embarrass us at the Luna's household.”

Cindy wiped her hands, balanced the hot dish on a tray, and slipped out the door without another word.

Outside, the village was alive with preparation. Women hurried by with baskets of bread; men hauled kegs of cider toward the clearing. Children chased each other, sticky with honey. Cindy kept her head low, her braid swinging against her back.

At the far end of the lane stood the Moors’ home - two stories of carved timber, wolf motifs curling along the railings. Compared to the Hales’ cottage, it looked like a storybook hall. Cindy adjusted her grip on the tray, steadied her breath, and climbed the steps.

On the porch, Sebastian and Sara were tangled close, laughter slipping into soft giggles and hushed murmurs. Sara’s fingers trailed along his jaw, drawing him down until their lips met. 

Sebastian’s hand slid to the back of Sara’s neck as their lips met, the kiss slow at first, then deep and with urgent hunger. Her fingers curled into his shirt, drawing him closer and  deepening the kiss.  She moaned, oblivious of any onlookers.

Cindy froze. Her pulse quickened for reasons she couldn’t name. Her breath hitched as a wave of heat and dizziness rolled through her. A sudden ache bloomed in her chest, sharp and fleeting. She pressed a hand against her ribs, unsure why it hurt. 

She lowered her eyes and started past them - her cheeks burning with something she couldn’t yet name.

But then - Sebastian stilled. His hand on Sara’s waist faltered, and he broke the kiss abruptly, straightening as if pulled by an unseen thread. For a heartbeat, his eyes flicked toward Cindy. Something unreadable crossed his face - confusion? Recognition? Before he masked it with a lazy smirk.

“Well, look who’s here,” he drawled, his tone sharp enough to slice through the moment. “The kitchen ghost. Don’t they teach you to greet your betters at the Hale shack?”

Sara blinked, caught off guard, then followed his gaze and laughed, covering the awkward pause with a tinkling giggle. “Sebastian…”

Cindy’s cheeks burned. She clutched the tray tighter, forcing her voice steady. “Hello, Sebastian. Hello, Sara.”

He didn’t answer right away - just stared, a flicker of something still caught in his eyes, before the smirk returned. “She speaks.”

Cindy turned away quickly, the air between them strangely heavy, and walked into the house. She could still hear Sara from inside the house, her giggles high and bright.

Inside, the air buzzed with warmth and noise. Servants rushed around with platters, arranging food on the counters. At the center stood Luna Lydia, her apron dusted with flour, silver-shot hair pinned neatly.

She turned as Cindy entered. “Cindy, isn’t it? Thank you for bringing this.” Her voice was warm as she relieved Cindy of the dish. “You’ve saved me a trip.”

Cindy’s throat tightened. “You’re welcome, Luna.”

Lydia reached for a cookie from a plate, wrapped it with a paper towel and handed it to her. “Take one. You look like you’ve been working since dawn.”

Cindy hesitated, she was rarely offered anything first. But she accepted, whispering, “Thank you.” The cookie melted buttery and sweet on her tongue, unfamiliar and comforting all at once.

“Take these back to your mother,” Lydia said, placing two polished platters in her hands. “We’ll need them tonight.”

“Yes, Luna,” Cindy said softly, balancing the dishes.

“Enjoy the festival, child,” Lydia added, already turning back to her work.

Cindy slipped out quickly, before anyone else could notice her.

Sebastian and Sara were still on the porch. He said nothing this time, only leaned back, his dark eyes following her every step down the stairs. Sara tightened her hold on his arm, a smirk curling her lips.

Cindy walked away with her chin high, though her chest burned.

The cookie was still warm in her hand. She nibbled it slowly as she went, letting the sweetness soften the ache in her chest. Lydia Moore was kind. Nothing like her son. Nothing at all.

The path home wound between the trees, the last light turning the sky amber. Cindy’s thoughts wandered.

Sebastian Moore. His name alone made her pulse stumble. Every girl in the pack dreamed of him, his strength, his dark eyes, the certainty that he would one day lead them as Alpha. Some girls planned their futures around him, praying the goddess would bind them to his side. Cindy never let herself dream like that. She was a servant. Wolf-less Cindy to everyone. Picked out of the woods like unwanted scrap.

And yet, every time she saw him, something stirred in her chest. Something she couldn’t explain and didn’t dare to name. She told herself it was foolish. He would never notice her, not really. Not as anything more than a shadow on the Hale family’s leash.

A breeze rustled through the trees. She paused, the hair on her arms prickling. For a second she thought she heard it again, a low, rough sound carried on the wind. A growl.

But the forest was quiet.

Cindy tightened her grip on the platters and walked faster, her heart thudding.

Only this time, the growl hadn’t come from the woods.