The Bond I Cannot Break

Thalia’s POV:

It has been three weeks since Lycan Alaric marked me, and every day since then felt like a battle against my own heart.

The mark on my neck throbbed constantly. I had to wrap my neck with scarves, to hide it away from everyone, but no cloth could dull the searing pull I felt toward him.

No matter how cruel his words, no matter how harsh his gaze, my wolf whimpered for him.

I hated it.

I hated him…

And yet, I loved him too.

The mate bond was a curse stitched into my very bones.

I pulled the sheets tighter around my body as I finished dressing his bed. The sun had just started to rise, casting golden streaks across the stone floors.

I could hear the warriors training outside — shouts, clashing swords — but inside this cold room, I was alone.

Alone with my aching heart.

The door slammed open, nearly making me drop the pillow in my hands. “Move faster, slave,” Valerie snapped, her lip curling in disdain.

She was Alaric’s most favored woman — tall, blonde, and cruel. She took every opportunity to remind me that I didn’t belong here. That I wasn’t worthy of even breathing the same air as them.

Every other day when I wasn't warming his bed, she was. But not as a slave, as his actual woman. Because she was a noble woman from a noble family, and everyone expected her to become his Luna.

I bowed my head. “Yes, Miss Valerie.”

It cost me everything to say it.

She sauntered into the room. “You think just because Alaric uses you for his bed, you’re special?” She sneered. “You’re nothing but a hole to him. A dirty slave he pities at night.”

I kept folding the sheets, ignoring the sting behind my eyes. But Valerie wasn’t finished. She stepped closer, yanking the scarf from my neck. And the bright red mark was laid bare.

“Pathetic,” She hissed. “You think this means anything? Alaric would rather die than claim a scarred slut like you.”

Tears burned my throat, but I refused to let them fall. I snatched the scarf back and tied it around my neck with trembling fingers.

Valerie chuckled. “You think he loves you? Look at yourself! You’re hideous!”

I clenched my fists until my nails dug into my palms. "I never said he did."

She leaned closer, her breath hot against my ear. "He'll toss you aside soon enough. Maybe then, you'll end up in the kitchens... or better yet, the breeding pens."

My heart lurched at her words. I stumbled back, shaking.

I knew what the breeding pens were.

I had seen the hollow-eyed women who never escaped them. Before I could even respond, Alaric's voice rang out. "Valerie."

She stiffened, whipping around. Alaric stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his eyes cold and unreadable.

"Leave.” He ordered.

"But Alaric—"

"Out." He repeated, but she still stood stubbornly.

"Is there a reason you're still standing here, Valerie?" Alaric asked.

I dared a glance and found him staring at Valerie with eyes like ice.

Valerie bowed stiffly. "Apologies, Alaric. I was just... reminding the slave of her duties."

Alaric’s lip curled in disgust. "Her duties are not yours to manage."

For a moment, there was silence. Then he added. "I will take it up from here.”

Valerie’s face flushed a deep, ugly red. She curtsied hastily and fled down the hall. While I stood there trembling, unsure what to do.

I expected Alaric to turn his rage on me next, but he only stared. His gaze flicked to my scarf, then away.

“You’re wasting time,” He said stiffly, before leaving without another word.

Still, that small moment — him stepping in, even if only to exert control — sparked something foolish inside me.

Hope.

When I was done with Alaric's room, I went to the maid's quarters to begin my daily duties.

I was gathering the last of the laundry when Valerie's voice rang out. "Thalia…” She called, dragging my name out. "Did you scrub the guard's leathers properly this time? Or should we expect them to reek of failure again?"

I bit down on my tongue, folding the linen neatly into the basket. "They’re clean, Valerie."

"Are they?" She strolled closer, fingering the tunic I had just washed. "You missed a spot.” She accused, flicking an imaginary speck of dust off the fabric.

I kept my head bowed. "I’ll clean it again."

She laughed. "Good little slave. Always so obedient. Tell me, does Alaric kiss you before he uses you? Or does he turn your face to the wall first?"

"I don’t speak about Alaric," I said quietly, gripping the basket tighter.

"Of course not." She sneered. "He wouldn’t want his filth talking." She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “He'll never want you, Thalia. Let that sink in.”

I looked up at Valerie's personal maid, and was about to say something rude, when I remembered that she was just as evil as Valerie. And crossing paths with her could make my life even more miserable.

Sighing, I walked past her and went about my day doing laundry and rewashing the guard's boots

Later that night, I sat by the window of my tiny servant's quarters. I hugged my knees to my chest, feeling the mark throb again. No matter how many cruel words Alaric hurled, no matter how cold he acted, my heart betrayed me.

Every time he entered a room, my world sharpened. Every time his scent brushed my nose, my chest tightened. Every time he looked at me, even in disgust, I still wanted him because of the Mate Bond.

"I hate you," I whispered into the night, tears slipping free. "I hate that I love you."

<><>

Days passed.

And every day was spent cleaning, serving, and tending to his wounds after battles. He barely spoke unless necessary, but sometimes... sometimes I caught him staring at me when he thought I wasn’t looking.

Sometimes his hand brushed mine a little too long when handing me something. Those tiny, forbidden moments fed the stupid hope inside me.

Later that afternoon, I was helping in the kitchens, scrubbing a pot, when a wave of nausea slammed into me. I barely made it to the back door before throwing up in the bushes.

Valerie, passing by, laughed cruelly. "Already sick of your miserable life?"

I ignored her, wiping my mouth shakily. But the sickness didn’t stop. It returned the next morning. And the next.

At first, I thought it was the rotten stew or the endless exhaustion. But deep down, a whisper stirred in my mind.

Heart hammering, I stole away to the healer’s hut that night. It was empty; the healers were feasting in the main hall.

I found the old pregnancy herbs, the ones that turned blue in water if the woman was with child.

With trembling hands, I crushed the leaves and dropped them into a bowl of urine.

For a moment, nothing.

Then—slowly, the water darkened to a deep, vivid blue.

I staggered back, clutching my stomach.

"No!" I exclaimed. "No, no, no."

I can't be.

But I was.

I was carrying Lycan Alaric's child.

Tears filled my eyes. Not just fear — but an aching, unbearable hope too.

I pressed a hand to my belly. Already, I could feel a tiny pulse, a fragile spark of life.

His child.

Our child.

I sank to the floor, burying my face in my hands.

I couldn’t tell him. He hated me. If he knew... if he knew, he might take the baby from me, or worse, cast me into the streets.

No, I had to protect this life. Even if it meant lying, even if it meant hiding it until I could find a way to survive.

"I’ll protect you," I whispered to my unborn child. "I’ll protect you... even if it kills me."