Forbidden Temptation

Chapter Two

My throat tightened. I had planned the announcement for tonight, but the castle walls only echoed my fear back at me. Even the draft sliding along the corridors felt sharper; the cold of the stone ran up through my soles, and my heart beat as fast as the faint clinking of the plates as I set them beside one another.

I had been preparing since morning. Not out of will, but out of compulsion: my hands knew their task before my mind had decided anything.

“Careful!” my wolf growled when I pulled the water bucket to my hip. “The Alpha smells wrong. Delay it!”

“Everything has to be right today,” I replied to her in thought. I set down the bucket. The healer’s words stayed with me all day: there is life inside you.

In the kitchen the soup simmered slowly; poultry bones, roots, rosemary. I baked bread: the dough was warm beneath my palms. All the while my wolf wrapped around my chest with a quiet, watchful presence: from now on, we are two.

The afternoon blurred into darkness. The dull thuds from the training yard faded; the castle’s sounds died down. No sign of Robert. He always comes by evening. He will come now as well.

As the sun dipped lower, excitement turned into anticipation, and anticipation slowly sharpened into pure tension.

“It’s late,” my wolf whispered. “Not now.”

“I won’t delay,” I answered. “There is no shame in this. This is joy.”

The heat of the oven became too much, yet I still shivered when I finally heard the thud of boots on the outer corridor. Slow, heavy steps that didn’t pause. The iron frame of the door rattled, the wood groaned, and he stepped in.

Robert’s shadow struck first, before his body followed. His cloak was still on his shoulders, his dark hair clinging to his temples in wet strands. His scent brought the forest and blood into the room, iron and a cold anger so sharp it froze the air instantly. I felt the raw, dry wind of his wolf. His gaze fell on me—deep, narrow, like the mouth of a well.

“You’re late,” I said, but there was a smile in my voice. “I waited for you with dinner.”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t remove his cloak. He sat in the chair at the head of the table, tapped the knife blade with his finger once, twice, then went still. His hand was so calm it made my stomach ache.

I placed the plate before him. The scent of the soup curled around us. I sat across from him. The silence was empty yet had weight.

“There is something I need to tell you,” I began, and felt my wolf stand inside me.

For a fleeting moment Robert’s eyes flickered above the blade. He nodded but didn’t ask. I didn’t want to circle around the truth.

“I am with child,” I said, and my voice did not tremble. “Your child. I saw the healer today. She is certain.”

For one heartbeat, the silence became absolute—and then something in it cracked. Robert’s palm flattened against the table. His jaw tightened, his gaze narrowed. My wolf growled in me—reflexively.

“What did you say?” Robert asked quietly. His voice was like a knife blade that doesn’t cut yet still leaves a scratch.

“I am with child,” I repeated.

Robert moved suddenly. He didn’t shout, didn’t slam the table. He simply rose.

The next moment the world tilted: the table flew upward, bowls clattering as they crashed down, droplets of hot soup burning my skin. The chair scraped back; I half sprang to my feet—but his hand was already at my throat.

The grip turned brutal instantly. My feet left the floor; the air broke off.

“I don’t want you or the pup,” Robert said, and his eyes turned red, as though a flame burned behind his pupils. “No one binds me.”

My wolf surged forward inside me. My fingers curled into claws, digging into his wrist. The smell of blood flooded my senses. Robert flinched—not from pain, but because I had dared to resist. His grip multiplied around my throat. Black dots danced in my vision.

“Let me forward,” my wolf roared. “We must breathe. We must protect!”

In the next instant Robert flung me aside. Wall, cabinet, stone—I didn’t see, only felt the blows as my shoulder, back, hip struck something hard and stripped the strength from me. The ground caught me, but not gently.

I tried to rise. My hand flew to my belly as if I could grow armor there. Robert’s shadow fell over me. He didn’t run. He came. Step, breath, step.

“No!” my wolf screamed inside me. “Not there!”

But the blow landed on my stomach. His hand started open but clenched into a fist mid-strike. My body curled inward, instinctively. Air burst out of me without sound, like a candle flame pinched out by fingers. I tasted my own blood.

“There will be nothing,” Robert growled, his voice both human and what lived beneath. “No one binds me. No weak tether around my throat.”

“This is not a shackle,” I forced out. “This is life.”

The answer was a kick. Above my ribs, then lower, then to the side. My wolf screamed inside me— not in attack but in the voice of someone losing something that cannot be replaced.

Robert bent down and grabbed my hair, yanking me up. My head snapped back; a flash of white exploded behind my eyes.

“Look at me,” he commanded. The Alpha’s voice. My wolf recoiled, but resisted. Softly, trembling—but resisted. My voice stayed inside.

“This won’t end like this,” I whispered. “This will be the end of everything.”

“That is the point,” he answered quietly, and in the silence it was the most terrifying thing. “The end of everything weak.”

The next hit sent my body sliding; my shoulder blades slammed into the wall. A brief white flash, then muffled hearing. My wolf panted. Curled around me as I curled around her—my arms wrapped around my stomach. If this was all I could do, I would do it: I would hold.

Robert’s shadow loomed again. The kick hit my hip, then my ribs. My lungs obeyed with a wheezing hiss; the edges of the world blurred.

“Hold on,” my wolf said. “One more breath. One more.”

Robert’s movements seemed distant now, as if seen from underwater. I tried to pull my knees up one more time, to shield my belly one more time. I managed. I poured all the strength left in me into that single motion.

“Enough,” someone said.

The ceiling beams smeared in my vision. Darkness didn’t fall suddenly; it greyed first, then deepened. Before I closed my eyes completely, I heard my wolf’s voice very softly:

“I am here. I’m holding you.”

And then everything fell silent. At the bottom of the fall there was nothing, only darkness. And in that darkness, something very small, very stubborn moved once more… but it did not have enough strength to keep me awake.