CHAPTER TWO

Ragnar looked ahead, seeing that Astrid was closing up on him fast. 

He couldn't do anything—she was already too close for him to evade, the only option left was to fight back.

And he just couldn't.

Despite how revolting it was that she was his mate, he couldn't hurt her—hurting her would mean hurting himself, the pain of a hurt mate would leave the other with an immeasurable pain. 

With a growl, Astrid’s claw landed a powerful swipe on Ragnar's face. The force of the blow left a searing mark, and blood dripped from the fresh wound.

"I'm going to kill you for what you've done, Ragnar." Astrid seethed. 

However, as Astrid readied herself for the next strike, a sudden and unexpected change seized her.

Astrid froze mid-motion, her eyes widening in astonishment.

It was the scent of a mate.

The realization hit Astrid like a thunderbolt, and she hesitated, her predatory instincts immediately subdued. 

Her gaze locked with Ragnar's again, and in that charged moment, they both felt the undeniable pull of the mate bond. 

The need to kill.

The thirst for revenge.

The ferocity of battle.

They all seemed to fade into the background as the connection unfolded. 

But Astrid's triumph was short-lived as an intense, searing pain surged through her. She let out a loud scream as she fell to the ground, her claws retracting, and her body convulsing in spasms of pain.

She started to shift back into her human form. She was sprawled on the blood-soaked ground, her hands clutching at the soil as she writhed in pain.

However, it was at that moment that from within, Faye Black—who was surprisingly now weakened, cried out, “Mate!”

Fucking Ragnar was her mate!

Ragnar transferred into his human form, towering over Astrid’s weakened state. She was still writhing in pain, laid down on the ground. 

He knelt beside her, "You killed her, didn't you?" he asked, narrowing his gaze at her.

Her eyes met Ragnar's intense gaze and hell, looking in his eyes was as though one was willingly submerging themselves into a lake of fire. She had never been this up close to him, she had never beheld the flames his gaze threw as daggers…she had never witnessed the chilling air that escorted his presence. 

 He had amber coloured eyes and they were so sinister, so mysterious and had a danger woven into its gaze. Nevertheless, she had to remain strong. She was determined not to show her weakness to him.

Astrid, breathing heavily, didn't deny it. Instead, she held Ragnar's gaze, unyielding. Her eyes spoke her heart, that she did kill his fucking Luna and didn't have one ounce of regret about it. 

His fists clenched, so hard that his nails bit into his palms, he growled, “Oh, how I wish i could fucking kill you right now." Ragnar said, his voice low and eerie and he didn't break eye contact with her, “What I would do just to be able to dig my claws into your guts and dig out your insides myself….I want you to suffer, Commander.”

Astrid struggled to sit up, a smirk on her face, "Then do it, Ragnar. Kill me. Why the wait?”

Ragnar's jaw clenched, and for a moment, he seemed on the verge of striking her. But then, he sighed, the air leaving him in a heavy exhale. 

Her smirk grew wider, until it was a full on sinister grin."You can't kill me, can you?" she said.

"The bond between mates is not easily severed. When you hurt your mate, the pain rebounds. Killing you now would mean killing a part of myself."

Astrid, still on the ground, looked up at Ragnar. "If you want your revenge so damn badly, then go ahead and finish it," she spat. “It won't matter anyway, because even if you keep me alive, I will never honour this bond nor mate with you.” 

She groaned, proceeding to cough—and what emited from her mouth was a glop of blood. She used the back of her hand to wipe it away and spoke, "I killed your wife, proudly, and I'd do… it ten thousand times more.” she declared.

Ragnar took a deliberate step forward, "I'm going to capture you, and you will come back with me to my kingdom. Resistance is futile, Commander. You can't fight fate."

“I'd rather die than follow you." Astrid retorted. She could feel her body growing weak and consciousness slowly ebbing out of her. 

She was definitely going to pass out—she had hit her…mate. And she knew that onceshe passed out, he was going to take her. 

She lost. Fuck. 

A wicked smile curled on Ragnar's lips as he saw that she was growing weaker. "Well, that can certainly be arranged. But death is not what I have in mind for you, Commander. No, I have something much more interesting in store…"

“What…what are you—” she couldn't complete her statement because then, her vision blurred, and the world around her seemed to spin. She tried to speak, to protest, but the pain was too overwhelming.

Ragnar's laughter echoed in the air as she succumbed to unconsciousness, her body limp on the blood-soaked ground.

The last she remembered was the feeeling of his hands on her as he lifted her up.

-:-

Ragnar had a glass of rich red wine in his hand as he sat in his throne room. The three elders were seated around him on their respective seats, and a meeting was going on.

Just then, the heavy wooden doors creaked open, and Dr. Elene entered and gave a respectful bow. "My lord," she acknowledged, her eyes avoiding direct contact with Ragnar as a sign of reverence.

"How is she?" Ragnar simply asked. 

The doctor straightened, her voice measured, "She is stable now, my lord. The pain has subsided, and she is currently asleep."

Ragnar's stern expression softened a tad bit upon hearing she was stable. "You may leave," he said to the doctor.

Dr. Elena executed a graceful bow once more before turning to exit the throne room. The heavy doors closed behind her, leaving Ragnar in the company of the elders. 

“Back to our discussion, Lord Ragnar, about the girl…the rogue leader,” Elder Gareth began.

After a moment of contemplation, Ragnar leaned forward, his eyes narrowing with resolve. "The mate bond between Astrid and me must be severed. Bring in the sorcerers; they shall handle the task."

The elders exchanged glances, acknowledging the severity of the decision. It was an unusual and drastic measure to cancel a mate bond, but the circumstances demanded an unconventional solution. Slowly, they nodded in agreement.

"The sorcerers shall arrive tomorrow then, My Lord." one of the elders affirmed, bowing his head.

Ragnar continued, outlining his judgment with a stern voice, "Once the mate bond is severed, Astrid will serve as a slave within the palace for a month. This will serve as a punishment. Only then will she be sacrificed at the Blood Moon Festival."

The elders absorbed Ragnar's words, contemplating the gravity of the judgment. After a moment, another elder spoke, Elder Yamile, "It is a fitting plan, my lord. This way, justice will be served.”

Ragnar nodded. "Let it be done. Summon the sorcerers and have them prepare Astrid for her new role." 

Elder Darrem, the oldest with a long, gray beard, finally spoke up, "Moving on, My lord, to the matter of an heir. With the passing of your wife, the matter of securing an heir becomes crucial. The kingdom requires a successor to maintain stability."

Ragnar's eyes hardened. "I'm aware," he replied in a low voice.

Of course, trust these old men to bring up the case of an heir just two days after the death of his wife. A bit unthoughtful of them, but Ragnar knew that they were right—he definitely needs an heir.

He had a five–years daughter with Francia and after her birth, they continued to try for a child but they all ended in miscarriages. He tried with other women; beautiful women, princesses and alpha’s daughters—all virgins. He disvirgined them, impregnated them and once the pregnancy came to a month, she would have a miscarriage. 

Over the past three years, he has tried with twenty–five women and none of them worked. 

Well, lady twenty-six was on her way.

Just then, another elder chimed in, "My lord, the next candidate is due to arrive any moment now. She's an alpha daughter, a virgin, of course, and comes from a reputable bloodline. We've taken every precaution to ensure her purity."

Just then, the grand doors of the throne room swung open, revealing a figure that immediately commanded attention.

Her hair cascaded down in luxurious waves, a deep, glossy black that contrasted with the silver strands artfully woven into her braids. The hair framed her face like a curtain, accentuating her high cheekbones and sharp, piercing amber eyes.

She looked like a fucking goddess. 

She wore a form-fitting dress of deep crimson. The fabric clung to her curves, accentuating every line of her graceful figure. 

The dress bore patterns that shimmered when she moved, catching the light of the throne room and casting a bewitching glow.

The gown had a daring neckline, plunging just enough to show her ample breasts. The sleeves, long and flowing, added a touch of drama, while the slit up the side revealed a glimpse of powerful, shapely legs.

As Lilith prostrated before Ragnar, her red lipstick–doused lips, "My lord Ragnar," Lilith's voice, a sultry and melodic resonance. "I am Lilith Carenia of the Obsidian Moon Pack, honored to stand before you as a potential carrier of your child to secure the future of your great kingdom."

A satisfied smirk spread on Ragnar’s lips