The ancient stone temple loomed before us, its weathered granite facade glowing amber in the late morning sun. Despite visiting several times during my pregnancy, I still felt a flutter of awe as we approached the sacred site dedicated to the Moon Goddess—my mother.
That thought still jolted me occasionally, like an electrical shock to my system. The Moon Goddess, revered deity of all werewolves, was my actual birth mother. And here I was, showing up embarrassingly late to a sacred ritual planning session for her grandson.
"They're waiting in the eastern garden," Ronan said, guiding us along a stone pathway that circled around the main temple building.
I adjusted Rhys in my arms, his tiny body warm against my chest. At just two weeks old, he was blissfully unaware of his divine heritage or the expectations already resting on his tiny shoulders.
"Do I look presentable?" I whispered to Kaelen, who walked beside me with a protective hand resting on the small of my back.
