Pregnant With His Heir, Buried by His Lies

After we sealed the blood-oath that bound our two bloodlines beneath the Moon Goddess, I went to collect the promise-tokens from the old mark-carver who kept his den on the edge of the eastern hunting grounds, the one who had forged the bonding-tokens for three generations of Valecrest Lunas.

What I found in the velvet-lined box made my blood run cold.

There were two tokens. One was mine. The other bore the mark of Thornecroft.

Vesper Thornecroft.

My intended, Dorian's, childhood she-wolf. The daughter of a rival pack's Beta-enforcer.

I carried the tokens home to the great estate at the heart of Valecrest territory, the legitimate seat of the bloodline, the one that appeared in the spirit network and at every Pack Gala under the full moon. I meant to question him. To demand answers with whatever dignity I had left.

Instead, I crossed the threshold of the heavy oak doors to find Dorian guiding a pup-bearing Vesper across the stone hall, his hand pressed to the small of her back with a tenderness I had never once been given.

The instant I stepped through the doorway, the two of them carried themselves as though they were the rightful heirs to this den. As though I were the trespasser on marked ground. Dorian's voice held the cold authority of a wolf who had never once been denied.

"Vesper needs someone to tend her now. You'll prepare her meals. Nourishing, nothing too rich. She's delicate." His dark eyes swept over me without a flicker of warmth. "She'll take the master den. Go gather your things."

I did not answer.

I no longer cared about the tokens.

I turned toward the east wing, toward the room that had been mine for nine years of this hollow arrangement.

My communicator shattered the silence. My mother's voice came through trembling, fractured by sobs.

"Seraphina... your father. They beat him. They crippled him. Come to the healer-clinic. Now."

I was out the door before the link went dark.

At the healer-clinic, I learned the truth.

It was Dorian.

My father, Garrick Duskmoor, the old patrol-warden who had walked the Valecrest borders for thirty years, had simply glanced up as Vesper passed. Nothing more. A moment's eye contact.

Dorian had erupted. He had his enforcers hold my father down while he beat him with his own hands, snarling that he was a degenerate, a deviant, a wolf who dared lift his eyes to what belonged to the Pack Heir.

I linked him from the clinic corridor, my voice steady despite the fury burning through my veins. Somewhere beneath my ribs my wolf paced, low and silent, hackles rising.

His response was ice.

"Your father frightened Vesper. His eyes were wandering, like some half-feral rogue. What if he'd upset the pup?" A pause. "How can you be so heartless, Seraphina? She's carrying a child, and you take his side?"

I said nothing.

I severed the link.

Then I called another number.

"The mating ceremony is off. Pull back the territorial claims we signed over to the Valecrest fronts. In seven days, I want both of them finished."

1.

The moment I returned to the estate, before I could even shed my coat, Dorian's voice cut through the hall like a blade.

"Seraphina. Leave your bracelet here."

My hand froze on the brass hook.

"Vesper has been having nightmares," he went on, his tone suggesting this was a perfectly reasonable thing to ask. "She needs it more than you do."

That bracelet.

The only thing my younger sister Liora left me before she died.

A delicate chain of white gold, threaded with a single sapphire that matched her eyes. She had pressed it into my palm the night before the staged hunt-kill that took her, laughing, telling me it would bring me luck.

I turned slowly. My fingertips had gone cold.

Dorian saw the redness rimming my eyes. He saw how shallow my breath had gone. And he showed not a single trace of sympathy.

"Name your price," he said.

Nine years.

Nine years of treading on eggshells in a bond without love. Nine years of swallowing my pride, my ambition, my very self to keep peace between our bloodlines. Nine years of bowing my head until I was little more than dust.

And in his eyes, all of it, every sacrifice, every silent tear, amounted to nothing more than name your price.

I could not even bring myself to count what he believed my devotion was worth.

When I lifted my gaze, I saw the contempt in his face. The casual cruelty of a wolf who had never loved anything he could not own.

And in that moment, memories surfaced unbidden.

There was a time when I had been treasured.

There was a time when the man I loved was still alive.

My stomach had always been weak, a childhood ailment that never quite healed. Whenever I ate something that disagreed with me, the pain would fold me in half. He would always make me a bowl of warm broth, testing its heat against his wrist before bringing it to my lips, spoon by careful spoon.

When I sulked, he would gather me into his arms, warm palms pressed flat against my stomach, murmuring that the pain would pass. That he was there. That he would always be there.

When I was sad, he would sit with me for hours, an entire day if it took that long, waiting with infinite patience for a single smile.

But that man was gone.

And now I stood in a hall that carried the scent of scorched oak and tarnished copper and bitter clove gone slightly sour, facing a monster wearing the shape of the wolf I was once promised to.

I lowered my head.

I pushed the bracelet down my wrist, inch by inch.

The clasp caught on my skin. A sharp sting lanced up my arm. When I finally worked it free, a thin line of blood welled against my pulse point.

Tears fell before I could stop them, striking the stone floor one drop at a time.

Was the pain really only on the skin?

I took a breath. Steadied myself.

Then I crossed the hall and slid the bracelet onto Vesper's waiting wrist. Her scent reached me there, candied jasmine layered over something faintly rotten, and beneath it a thread of cold wolfsbane that made my wolf go still and wary, though I had no name yet for why.

I even managed a smile. Gentle. Dignified. The perfect mask of a she-wolf who had learned to survive in a world that wanted to devour her.

"May the pup you carry stay healthy and safe."

The moment the words left my lips, Dorian actually looked at me with something he took for approval.

"Seraphina." His voice was almost warm. "As long as you behave, my child will be your child."

Utterly absurd.

Before his words had even settled in the air, the bracelet slipped from Vesper's wrist.

It struck the stone with a sound like breaking bone.

The delicate chain shattered. Fragments scattered across the floor like crushed ice, like powdered glass, like every hope I had ever harbored for this arrangement.

A shard grazed Vesper's ankle. A thin line of crimson welled against her pale skin.

Dorian moved as though she were dying.

He swept her into his arms as if she were spun sugar, cradling her against his chest with a desperation I had never once seen in him, not for territory, not for bloodline, and certainly never for me.

"Get the healer!" he barked at the household pack. "What are you standing there for? Now!"

His urgency turned every wolf in the room to look at me.

Their eyes held mockery. Judgment. As though I were the one who had caused this. As though my dead sister's bracelet had somehow betrayed its new owner on purpose.

I almost laughed.

Vesper's voice floated through the chaos, soft as silk, trembling with calculated fragility.

"It's all my fault. The bracelet Seraphina just gave me... I dropped it. I'm so clumsy."

Dorian cradled her hand, his voice dripping with a sweetness thick enough to choke on.

"It's not your fault, cara. That thing was ill-omened to begin with. Better that it broke."

I went still.

The only thing my sister left me before she died.

Ill-omened.

Better that it broke.

My fingers turned to ice around the handle of my case. I could not look at the two of them a moment longer. If I stayed in this room any longer, I would be sick. I would scream. I would do something that could not be undone. Beneath my skin my wolf surged, a low growl rising in my chest that I forced back down.

I was halfway to the door when my communicator buzzed against my palm.

My mother's voice again. Shattered. Barely coherent.

"Seraphina... come to the clinic. Your father... they beat him. They crippled him..."

The hall fell silent.

Vesper and Dorian heard every word. The link had carried loud enough. The stone walls threw sound back like the old meeting-hall under the moon.

Neither of them spoke.

Neither offered a single word of concern, a single flicker of guilt.

They only watched me with the cold indifference of those who had never once weighed the cost of their cruelty.

I did not spare them another glance.

I walked out into the night, into the cold autumn air that carried rain and damp earth and the first bitter edge of winter.

Behind me, the heavy oak doors of the Valecrest estate closed with a sound like a coffin lid.