The Defective Mate's Hidden Royal Bloodline

Nora POV:

"Part your thighs for me, Nora. I'm going to take you hard tonight, mark you deep, and make you truly mine."

Julian's husky, lust-filled voice vibrated against the sensitive skin of my neck, his hot, sour, alcohol-laced breath making my stomach churn violently.

He had me pinned against the cold, unyielding wall of my small, dimly lit room, his heavy, muscular body pressing aggressively into mine. His hands, rough and demanding, gripped my waist, his fingers digging into my flesh as he pulled me tighter into his stifling, inescapable embrace. The overwhelming scent of his Alpha pheromones, which used to make my knees weak with desire, now felt like a toxic cloud suffocating my very soul.

Instead of melting into my mate's touch like an obedient Omega, my entire body went rigid. I felt nothing but a suffocating wave of disgust and intense, clawing resistance. I used to be a proud aristocratic lady, the cherished daughter of the prestigious Hayes Pack, before my family tragically fell from grace. I was raised to be a noble Luna, not a secret, shameful plaything.

Mark me? Make me his?

"Isabella's position is completely untouchable. She has the backing of the powerful Sinclair Pack. As for Nora, she's just a fallen aristocrat. A criminal's daughter. A convenient hole to warm your bed."

His cruel words from the other night echoed in my mind, perfectly overlapping with the heavy, animalistic pants of the man currently grinding his hips against me. A violent shudder of pure revulsion rolled through my spine, freezing my blood.

"You smell so incredibly sweet," he mumbled, his wet, eager lips trailing down my collarbone, biting and sucking at my skin, completely oblivious to my freezing demeanor. "Don't be shy, Nora. You know how much I crave this body."

Shy? My heart was bleeding out on the floor, yet he was completely blind to it. The affectionate touch I had craved for years now felt like crawling, venomous insects on my skin. I squeezed my eyes shut as my agonizing heartbreak over the man who once loved me rapidly rotted into a chilling, horrifying unfamiliarity. This man pressing against me was no longer my devoted lover. He was a ruthless, calculating heir who would do absolutely anything for power and status. I had to protect my remaining pride. I had to escape this golden cage.

We had been engaged since childhood, a match made in heaven. But when I was eight, my family was framed for treason, and all the men in my clan were exiled to the barren wastelands. My mother died of severe depression shortly after. I only survived the purge because of my grandfather's desperate, last-minute interventions.

I thought our engagement would be immediately canceled, but Julian fought everyone to keep me. Yet, right after our private mating ceremony, his mother declared my family guilty and my status utterly unworthy. I was strictly forbidden to be his Luna. I was stripped of my dignity and became his hidden, shameful mistress.

"You know I have to marry Isabella for the sake of the Pack's future," he had promised back then, stroking my tear-stained cheek with false tenderness. "An Alpha of my high status will naturally have many women, but don't be jealous, my sweet Nora. You are the only one who truly has my heart. Just be a good girl, stay in my bed, and I will always take care of you."

I had been foolish enough to believe him. I had stayed by his side in the shadows for four long years, nameless, hidden, and utterly devoted.

And now, knowing he was officially going to marry Isabella Sinclair next month, his eager, wandering hands on my body felt like the ultimate insult. He didn't want a true, equal mate; he just wanted an obedient, pathetic bed warmer who would never say no.

"No!" I gasped, finding a sudden, desperate surge of strength to shove his heavy chest away. My hands shook violently as I wrapped my arms around myself, creating a physical barrier between us. "Please, Julian. You are drunk. You should go back to your own room and get some proper rest."

Julian stumbled back a step, his dark eyes flashing with a dark, impatient anger. He wasn't used to me rejecting him. "What are you afraid of? We are going to be husband and wife in every way that matters sooner or later. Stop acting like such a prude!" he grumbled, his Alpha aura flaring in a pathetic, domineering attempt to submit me to his will.

But my inner wolf wasn't there to cower anymore, and my human heart was already entirely dead to him.

Husband and wife? He had never fulfilled a single sweet promise he made to me.

"I'm not feeling well," I lied, keeping my head down so he wouldn't see the intense hatred brewing in my stormy gray eyes. "My stomach hurts terribly. If you force me now, you'll only end up cleaning sick off your expensive Italian leather shoes."

He stared at me, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek. The rejection clearly bruised his fragile, inflated Alpha ego. He scoffed, running a frustrated hand through his messy brown hair, completely turned off by my uncooperative words.

"Fine. Suit yourself, you ungrateful bitch," he spat coldly, turning his broad back toward the door. But before he stepped out into the hallway, he paused and looked back at me over his shoulder, his gaze completely devoid of the warmth he once showed me.

"Come to my study tomorrow morning. There is something important I need to tell you about your new arrangements."

The heavy oak door slammed shut, leaving me completely alone in the deafening, oppressive silence of the room.

I stood frozen for a long moment, listening to his heavy, fading footsteps echoing down the hall. Slowly, I lowered my trembling arms and walked over to the vintage dressing table.

I looked at the pathetic, broken girl in the mirror. My dress was wrinkled, my hair a messy tangle, but my gray eyes were completely dry and hard.

I thought I would cry a river for my lost love, but I didn't. The hollow, agonizing ache in my chest was rapidly being replaced by a hardening, impenetrable ice.

Eleonora Hayes, you are a complete and utter fool, I told my reflection.

Hope was dead. Love was dead. He had made his cruel choice, and now, I would make mine.

I wiped away a single, stray tear that had managed to escape my iron control. From this night on, I would not shed another tear for Julian Montgomery. I would live only for myself. But just as I made this silent, unbreakable vow, a sharp, urgent knock on my door shattered the silence, bringing a visitor I completely did not expect at this late hour.