Chapter 1 His Claim, Her Choice

(Penelope)

“Dominic, I beg you,” I gasped sharply as my mate Dominic thrust into me hard. Each movement sent spasms of pleasure through my body, but something was missing. Love. “Please—just one kiss—”

He rammed deeper, making me cry out. Sweat dripped from his jaw onto my breasts. It felt so good, but the physical connection felt empty, devoid of any tenderness or passion. Just raw, angry mating we both enjoyed.

“A kiss?” he asked contemptuously. “You think you deserve that?”

I stared up at the ceiling, tears sliding down my temples. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise as he continued his relentless pace, making me pant.

“It was an accident,” I whispered brokenly. “He didn’t mean it. He proved it before he died—”

“Your adoptive father,” he spat venomously, “murdered Isabella in cold blood. His death changes nothing.”

His fingers dug into my flesh as he increased his pace. The burning between my legs intensified until I thought I would split apart. Stars burst behind my eyelids from the pain.

“Open your eyes,” he ordered harshly. “I want to see your shame while I claim what’s mine.”

I forced my eyes open, meeting his cold gray stare. No trace of love or warmth resided there. Only disgust and rage stared back at me.

The mate bond had manifested when I turned eighteen. I’d been walking alone in the pack gardens, lost in my thoughts. Then Dominic rounded the corner. One breath of his scent was all it took—the ancient magic flared to life between us instantly.

But his heart belonged to Isabella already.

His childhood sweetheart. The woman my adoptive father allegedly murdered. Her death poisoned any chance of Dominic accepting me as his true mate.

His thrusts grew more erratic. A strangled groan escaped his throat as he finished. He pulled out immediately, leaving me cold and empty on the sweat-soaked sheets.

“Dominic,” I called weakly. Pain stabbed through my abdomen, sharper than usual. Something felt wrong.

He didn’t respond. Didn’t even look at me as he dressed efficiently and strode from the room. The door slammed with finality behind him.

I curled onto my side, shaking violently. Wetness trickled down my thighs. When I touched the sheets between my legs, my fingers came away red with blood.

The room spun sickeningly. I fumbled for my phone on the nightstand, nearly dropping it twice before managing to dial.

“Sarah?” My voice trembled. “I need you. Please hurry.”

The pack healer arrived within minutes, medical bag in hand. Her eyes widened when she saw the blood-stained sheets.

“Let me examine you, Luna.” she said worriedly, snapping on latex gloves.

The examination was gentle but thorough. Every touch made me wince. When she finished, Sarah sat carefully beside me.

“You’re pregnant,” she announced gravely.

“That’s impossible,” I argued frantically. “I’ve been taking the preventative herbs religiously—”

“Sometimes they fail,” she explained patiently. “And in your weakened state, your body can’t handle this kind of treatment. You need rest and care.”

Terror clawed at my throat. “You can’t tell Dominic,” I begged desperately. “Please, Sarah. He’ll—” The words stuck in my throat. We both knew what Dominic would do to ensure no pup of mine survived.

“Patient confidentiality,” she assured me firmly. “But you must take care of yourself. Both of you.”

She cleaned me up efficiently, changing the bloody sheets while I processed this news. The moment she left, I dragged myself to the shower on trembling legs.

I stood under the shower, turning the knob until the water burned. I scrubbed my skin raw, washing him off me. Still felt dirty. Still felt owned. My teeth chattered even as steam clouded around me.

I wrapped myself in a robe and tried to sleep. Impossible. My mind raced with every insult, every cruel word he’d ever thrown at me.

The clock struck midnight. I got up, my bare feet padding silently across cold marble floors. 

A laugh stopped me—a woman’s voice, coming from Dominic’s study. Then his low growl in response.

I froze. Should’ve walked away. Should’ve protected what little dignity I had left.

Instead, I crept forward.

The study door wasn’t fully closed. I peered through the gap and my stomach dropped. Dominic was flirting

with Kelsey, Isabella’s sister, on his desk. Her dark curls spilled across his papers as he kissed her neck, her collarbone, her lips.

Those curls, so much like Isabella’s. Her hands clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer.

“I hate seeing you with her,” Kelsey whispered ardently between kisses. “It tortures me.”

“She means nothing,” Dominic replied dismissively. “Just a duty. You’re who I want.”

My hand pressed instinctively against my still-flat stomach. The tiny life growing inside me deserved better than a father who would hate its very existence.

We both deserved more than this mockery of a bond.

I returned to our room, mind racing while I paced frantically.

The mate bond felt like a collar around my throat, choking my spirit. Pack law claimed it couldn’t be broken—that’s what they taught every wolf from birth. Unbreakable. Sacred. Forever.

But my grandmother once told me differently. Before she died, she whispered about rare wolves with ancient bloodlines who could reject the bond. “Only those with the purest blood can break what the Moon Goddess binds,” she’d said. I’d thought it was just a bedtime story.

Now I wondered.

The bond between Dominic and me felt different from what I’d heard described by other mated pairs. There was something unusual in how it formed, how it pulled at me. Like my blood was fighting it, even as my mind submitted.

If I could break it…if I could free myself…

But who was I? Just an orphan. Nobody special.

I pressed my hands to my stomach, feeling the tiny flutter inside. I needed to try. For both of us. Even if I failed, I had to fight for our freedom.

My knees hit the floor beside the bed. Eyes closed, I pressed my palms together.

“Mother Moon—” The prayer died on my lips as footsteps approached.

“Still praying?” Dominic’s mocking voice interrupted. “How predictable.”

I rose slowly to face him. For once, the sight of him didn’t make my heart race. A strange calm settled over me instead.

“We need to talk,” I stated firmly.

“About what?” he demanded contemptuously. “Your pathetic attempts at seduction? Or perhaps your habit of spying on private moments?”

“About ending this,” I replied steadily. “I want to break our mate bond.”