CHAPTER 9
1561 Words
L E I L A N I
The scent of bacon and coffee woke me the next morning. For a disorienting moment, I thought I was back in my old life, in my small apartment before everything had been ripped away. Then the memory of the previous day crashed down on me, the clinic, Fenrir's terrifying arrival, the sterile white room, and now this opulent prison. My stomach churned, a mix of nausea and the baby's hunger.
I forced myself out of bed, my limbs heavy with a weariness that went bone deep. I took a quick shower, the hot water doing little to wash away the feeling of being dirty, of being owned. The clothes Lyra had left for me were soft and expensive, a pair of dark leggings and a simple, cream colored cashmere sweater. They fit perfectly, which only added to my sense of violation. He knew my size. He knew everything, and I knew nothing.
I followed the smell of food down the sweeping staircase and into a massive, sunlit kitchen. Lyra was at the stove, humming a soft tune as she flipped pancakes. She turned as I entered, her violet eyes warm.
"Good morning, sleepyhead. I was wondering if you were ever going to wake up. I made breakfast."
I didn't reply, my gaze fixed on the spread of food on the large marble island. Pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, a pot of coffee which I knew they wouldn’t let me drink because of their f*****g ‘pup’. Who even calls a child pup? The food was enough to feed a family, and it was all for me. The thought should have been comforting, but it just felt like another chain, another way to keep me compliant, to fatten me up for the gilded cage.
"Sit," Lyra said, gesturing to a stool. "You need to eat. For the pup."
The way she said it, so natural, so right, made my blood boil. I wanted to scream, to throw the plate of pancakes across the room. But I was too tired, too defeated. So I sat.
She placed a plate in front of me, piled high with food. I picked at a piece of bacon, my appetite gone.
"You know," Lyra said, sipping her own coffee, "Fenrir isn't as bad as he seems."
I snorted, a sound that was half laugh, half sob. "Is that so? He seemed pretty bad to me. He kidnapped me. He's holding me against my will. He's forcing me to have his baby."
"He saved you," she said, her tone gentle but firm. "He saved you from that butcher clinic. He saved you from yourself."
"I didn't need saving!" I slammed my fork down on the plate, the clatter echoing in the vast kitchen. "I was making a choice! My choice! Something you people seem to know nothing about."
Lyra sighed, her expression sad. "We know about choice, Leilani. But some choices are bigger than us. The mating bond, the creation of a new life... those things are sacred. They're not to be discarded like trash."
"Sacred?" I laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "There's nothing sacred about this. It's a mistake. A biological accident. He said so himself. I’m a mere human. A common slave. How could I ever possibly conceive a child for the all powerful Alpha? " My voice cracked on the last word, the betrayal I felt from his words still raw. I was a paradox, an impossibility he now felt entitled to possess.
He had called it an impossibility. And yet, here he was, locking me away over it.
"He didn't mean it like that," she said, but she wouldn't meet my eyes. "He was just... surprised. We all were. A human carrying an Alpha's heir... it's been centuries since such a thing was recorded. It's a miracle."
"It's a curse," I corrected her, pushing the plate away. "I'm a vessel. A broodmare. That's all I am to him. Which is why I want none of this. Not his child, not to be his mate or even have any connections to any of your kind. I'd rather die."
Her face paled, a flicker of real fear in her violet eyes. "Don't say that. Don't ever say that."
"Why not?" I challenged. "It's the truth. I'd rather be dead than be a prisoner for the rest of my life."
"You're not a prisoner," she insisted, but her words rang hollow. "The harder you fight this, the more pain you will cause yourself. And the pup. You might force Fenrir to be hard on you."
"Leave the pup out of this!" I yelled, my hands clenching into fists. "It's my body, my life, my choice!"
She stood up, her calm demeanor finally cracking. "No, Leilani. It's not. Not anymore. When you conceived Fenrir's child, you became part of something bigger than yourself. You became part of this pack. And we protect our own. Even when they don't want to be protected."
"I'm not part of your pack. I will never be one of you."
With that, I pushed away from the island and stormed out of the kitchen, my heart pounding in my chest. I needed to get out, to breathe some fresh air, to feel like I wasn't suffocating.
I found myself in a massive, sun drenched living room, the floor to ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the surrounding forest. It was breathtakingly beautiful, a wilderness that stretched for miles.
I felt nauseous, like the floor to ceiling windows were making the world spin around me. I didn't bother to open the sliding glass door that led out to a sprawling deck. Instead, I went to the front door, my bare feet silent on the cool concrete floor. I pulled it open, expecting to be met with a locked handle, an alarm, some kind of barrier.
It swung open easily.
I stepped outside, the morning sun warm on my skin. I was free to walk out. To walk into the woods. To walk away.
But I knew it was a trap.
I took a few steps, the soft grass tickling my feet. I could see the edge of the forest, the trees a dense, impenetrable wall of green. It was so close. So tantalizingly close.
I took another step, my heart racing. Could I make it? Could I disappear into the trees before they noticed? Before he noticed?
"Don't even think about it."
I froze, my blood running cold. I turned, and there he was, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his massive chest. He was dressed in a simple black t-shirt and jeans, but he still managed to look like a god, a powerful, terrifying god.
"I was just getting some fresh air," I said, my voice trembling slightly.
He didn't say anything, his amber eyes boring into me. He was studying me, his expression unreadable. Then, he pushed himself off the doorframe and walked towards me.
I stumbled back, my hands held up in a gesture of surrender. "I wasn't going to run. I swear."
He stopped a few feet away from me, his gaze dropping to my stomach. He reached out, and I flinched, expecting him to grab me, to hurt me.
But he didn't.
His fingers gently brushed against the soft fabric of the cashmere sweater, right over my stomach. His touch was feather light, an opposite to the brutal violence I'd seen him capable of.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.
The question caught me off guard. He wasn't angry. He wasn't mocking me. He was asking... how I was feeling.
"I... I'm fine," I stammered, my mind reeling.
"The morning sickness will pass," he said, his hand still on my stomach. "In a few weeks, you'll start to feel the pup move. It's a strange feeling at first, but... you'll get used to it."
I stared at him, my mouth hanging open. Who was this man? This werewolf? This monster who spoke of feeling a baby move with a tenderness that made my heart ache?
"You're a monster," I whispered, the words out of my mouth before I could stop them.
His jaw tightened, but he didn't pull his hand away. "I know."
"You're a kidnapper. A rapist. A brute."
His jaw tightened, a flicker of anger in his amber eyes. "Call me anything but a rapist." His warning was a low growl, a dangerous promise.
"You bought me," I shot back, my anger rising to meet his. "You bought me from another monster, and you used me. How is that not rape?"
"I didn't force you," he said, his voice dangerously low. "You came to me. You wanted me."
"I was a slave!" I screamed, tears of rage and frustration welling in my eyes. "I had no choice! It was either you or Barron. I chose the lesser of two evils!"
His jaw tightened, and for a second, I saw a flicker of something in his eyes. Guilt? Regret? It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a cold, hard mask of indifference.
"You're right," he said, his voice flat. "I bought you. And I'm not sorry. If I hadn't, you'd still be in Barron's dungeon, and this pup," he said, his hand pressing gently against my stomach, "wouldn't exist."
- Writer
