His Last name, My Secret

His Wife, His Claim

Chapter 11

Zia froze, her whole body stiff. She didn’t know how to answer Hunter. Her lips parted, but no words came out.

“You look surprised,” he said flatly. “Didn’t I tell you before? I only want a child?”

“Hunter, I… I—”

“What can you even say?”

Zia paused for a moment then gazed at Hunter.She swallowed her own saliva.

“F-fine and when,” she blurted out, even her voice trembling.

His eyes flickered in surprise, but it quickly faded. The corner of his mouth lifted into a cruel, mocking smile.

“Now.”

“What?”

“Take a shower. Then go to my room.”

When Hunter turned his back, Zia’s knees weakened. She wanted to scream, to protest but she knew she had no choice. He was her husband. And as much as she hated to admit it, she needed him… for her future, for her studies. With her heart pounding, she forced herself toward the shower, clutching her robe like a shield.

Minutes later, after gathering every bit of courage she had, she knocked on his door.

“Come in,” his deep voice commanded from inside.

Her hand trembled as she opened the door. The room was swallowed in darkness she hadn’t expected. She took one hesitant step, then another, until—

A hand seized her from the shadows.

She gasped as Hunter pulled her in, and in an instant they both crashed onto the soft bed. His weight bore down on her, trapping her beneath him.

“H-Hunter—”

“Why are you afraid?” he asked coldly, his breath brushing her ear. “Aren’t you my wife? It’s your obligation to satisfy me in bed, isn’t it?”

Zia couldn’t speak. Her throat tightened as his eyes bore into hers. In one swift motion, her robe was ripped away and tossed carelessly aside.She had worn a delicate nightdress, hoping, foolishly that their first night would be special, that somehow it would mean something

But she was wrong.

To Hunter, this wasn’t about love. Not about her.

All he wanted… was a child.

When his lips claimed hers, Zia froze, torn between resisting and surrendering. Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, uncertainty tightening around her like chains. But in the end, she shut her eyes, forcing herself to yield, letting him take what he wanted from her body.

His mouth moved with ruthless hunger, tracing a path from her trembling neck down to her chest. A helpless sound slipped past her lips when his teeth grazed the sensitive peak of her breast, sending a shiver through her entire being.

Her fingers clutched at the sheets, knuckles white as she tried to steady her breathing. Every kiss he laid on her skin felt like fire, burning away the last of her defenses.

“Hunter…” she whispered, her voice breaking between fear and a plea she couldn’t quite name.

He didn’t answer. His eyes, shadowed with an unreadable darkness, remained fixed on her as if daring her to resist. His hands roamed possessively, claiming every part of her without hesitation.

In deam light, Zia squeezed her eyes shut. This wasn’t how she imagined her first night as his wife, no tenderness, no love, only a demand she was powerless to deny.

Still, her body betrayed her. Each touch, each kiss drew a reluctant response, a trembling shiver she couldn’t control. And in that moment, she hated herself for it.

Her breath came in shallow gasps as his lips trailed lower, scattering heat across her trembling skin. Every touch felt like a command, every kiss a claim, until she no longer knew where fear ended and surrender began.

“Hunter… please…” The words slipped out, uncertain whether she was begging him to stop or to go on after Hunter found her inner core down there and sipped on it like a hungry man.

He raised his head, eyes narrowing as they locked with hers. “You’re mine, Zia. Don’t forget that.”

Her chest tightened. She wanted to fight back, to shout that she wasn’t just a vessel for his desire. But when his hand slid against her thigh, coaxing her body to yield, all strength drained from her limbs.

Tears stung her eyes as she clung to the sheets. This wasn’t love. It wasn’t the tender beginning she had once dreamed of. It was raw, unrelenting possession.And yet… her body betrayed her again, trembling beneath his every touch, her pulse quickening with every kiss he pressed against her skin.

His hands slid firmly along her waist as he pressed her deeper into the mattress, his weight leaving her no escape. Zia’s lips trembled as she tried to form words, but only a breathless whimper escaped when he left her core and captured her mouth in another searing kiss.

Her heart pounded violently, torn between dread and the unfamiliar ache blooming inside her. When his touch finally claimed the last barrier between them, she stiffened, her nails digging into the sheets.

“Hunter—” Her voice cracked, caught between protest and surrender.

“Don’t fight me,” he murmured against her ear, his tone low, resolute. “You’re mine.”

And then—pain. A sharp sting that stole the air from her lungs, forcing her eyes wide. She clutched at his shoulders, trembling as tears spilled down her temples. He didn’t stop. His movements were demanding, relentless, until the burn slowly gave way to a dizzying rush that left her breathless.

Zia buried her face against him, unwilling to let him see her tears. This was not the night she had dreamed of. It was not love, it was possession, pure and consuming.

Yet her body, traitorous and weak, responded with every thrust, every touch. Her soft cries filled the darkness, mingling with his harsh breaths, until all she could do was cling to him and pray the night would end.

When it was over, Zia lay motionless beneath him, her body weak, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The room was still cloaked in darkness, but she could feel the weight of reality pressing harder than his body ever had.

Hunter pulled away without a word, his breathing rough but controlled. He reached for the blanket, covering only himself, leaving her exposed to the chill of the night.

Zia turned her face to the side, hiding the tears that slipped silently from her eyes. Every dream she had once held about love, about marriage, shattered like fragile glass in her chest.

“You’ll get used to it,” Hunter’s voice broke the silence—flat, almost careless.

Her throat tightened. She wanted to scream, to tell him she wasn’t just a body to be used, that she wanted to be loved, not owned. But her lips wouldn’t move. The words died before they could escape.

Instead, she pulled the robe from the floor and clutched it tightly around her trembling body, as if the thin fabric could shield her from the truth, that this was her life now.

Hunter had already turned his back, slipping into sleep as though nothing had happened.

Zia lay awake, staring into the dark, her heart aching with quiet despair. She had given herself to him, ñnot out of love, but out of resignation.

And the cruelest part of all was knowing… tomorrow night, it would happen again.