CHAPTER1
1101 Words
Zirah's POV
What was worse than a mate who couldn't stand the sight of you?
A mate who reminded you of it every single night.
"Again." Lucien's voice was flat. Cold. Like he was giving orders to a servant and not lying in bed with his wife. "Try again, Zirah."
I pressed my thighs together and willed my body to respond. Begged it. Pleaded with every nerve, every cell, every broken piece of my wolf to just cooperate for once.
Nothing.
My body stayed dry. Unresponsive. Betraying me in the one moment I needed it most.
Lucien pulled back. The mattress shifted under his weight and the absence of his warmth hit me like a slap. I kept my eyes on the ceiling. Counting the cracks in the plaster because it was easier than watching him dress.
"Two years." He said it like a verdict. "Two years, Zirah, and your body still rejects me like I'm some stranger off the street."
"It doesn't reject you. I just need a moment. If you let me..."
"Let you what?" He yanked his belt through the loops of his trousers. "Touch yourself? You think your own fingers can do what I can't?"
"That's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?" He turned to face me and the disgust in his eyes made my stomach fold in on itself. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like I married a woman whose body would rather turn to dust than respond to her own husband."
I sat up. Pulled the sheets to my chest even though he had already seen everything. Even though there was nothing left to hide.
"Lucien. What if you introduced me to the pack? Properly. As your Luna. Maybe that's why my wolf is holding back. She doesn't feel safe because the bond hasn't been acknowledged and..."
He laughed.
Not the kind of laugh that made you want to join in. The kind that made your ribs ache.
"This again." He shook his head slowly, buttoning his shirt like we were discussing the weather. "You really don't get tired of embarrassing yourself, do you?"
"It's not embarrassing to want your mate to claim you publicly."
"It is when the mate in question is you."
The words landed exactly where he aimed them. Dead center of my chest. I felt the sting spread outward like venom under my skin but I refused to cry. Not tonight. I had cried enough nights to fill an ocean and none of those tears had ever made him softer.
"Come here," he said.
I didn't move.
"Zirah. Come here."
I got off the bed. My feet touched the cold floor and I walked to him because that was what I always did. I walked to him when he called, no matter how many times he had just finished tearing me apart.
He gripped my shoulders and turned me around to face the full length mirror on the wall. I saw myself and wished I hadn't.
Thin. Too thin. My collarbone jutting out like it was trying to escape my skin. Fading bruises along my arms from the last time his grip got too rough. My hips narrow, my frame small, my eyes hollow from sleepless nights.
"Look," he whispered behind me. His breath was warm against my ear but his words were ice. "Tell me what I'm supposed to show the pack. This?"
He dragged one finger down my spine. Slowly. Like he was tracing a crack in something already broken.
"A Luna who can't produce slick for her own Alpha? A wife who flinches every time I raise my voice? An omega from a bloodline so weak that your father had to sell you just to settle a gambling debt?"
"He didn't sell me."
"He traded you, Zirah. Like livestock at an auction. The only difference is that livestock has value."
I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood. The mirror showed everything. Every flaw he pointed to, every imperfection he cataloged like evidence in a case against me.
His hand moved to my stomach. Pressed flat against it. Not gentle. Possessive. Measuring.
"Two years. No pup. No slick. No use." He listed them like items on a receipt. "And you want me to put a crown on your head and parade you around like you earned it?"
"Every Luna earns her place beside her Alpha."
"Every real Luna does. You are not a real Luna, Zirah. You are a debt paid in flesh."
He released me and I stumbled forward. My palms caught the edge of the dresser before I hit the ground.
Behind me, he adjusted his cufflinks. Even in the werewolf world, Lucien dressed like the billionaire he was. Tailored suits. Italian shoes. A Rolex that cost more than my father's entire life.
"Where are you going?" I asked, even though I already knew.
"Out."
"To her?"
He didn't answer. He didn't need to.
Maren. Her name sat in my mouth like poison. The she-wolf who could do everything I couldn't. The one who never needed a miracle. The one whose body responded to him like it was made specifically for his hands.
"Don't wait up," he said from the doorway. "And eat something. Not that it ever does you any good."
The door clicked shut.
I stood there for a long time. Staring at my reflection, searching for something worth keeping. Something that proved I wasn't everything he said I was.
My wolf was silent. She had been quiet for months now. Retreating deeper and deeper inside me like she was ashamed to share a body with someone so weak.
I pressed my hand to my stomach.
Two years of trying. Two years of him spilling inside me and nothing taking root. Two years of failure stacked on failure until the word lost all meaning.
I sank to the floor. The cold tile bit into my knees and I let it because at least that was something I could feel.
Then it hit.
Not sadness. Not the usual hollow ache that followed his exits.
Something sharper. Something physical. A twisting deep in my gut that made me double over. My vision blurred at the edges and my hands flew to my mouth as a violent cough ripped through me.
When I pulled my hands away, there was something in my palm.
Whitish. Murky. Warm.
My blood ran cold.
"No," I whispered. "No, no, no..."
I knew what this was. Every wolf knew what this was.
Poison.
But who would poison an omega that nobody even wanted?
- Writer
