A monster for a mate

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~~ IRENE POV ~~

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The walls of the bedroom were suffocating, even though the windows stood wide open, letting in the night breeze. I lay curled on the edge of the massive bed that had never felt like mine, arms wrapped around myself as if I could hold the broken pieces together. Tears blurred my vision, soaking the silk sheets beneath me. My daughter’s face haunted me. Her tiny, perfect features, her cries silenced forever.

Gone.

Slaughtered for Amira.

The name burned like acid, twisting my grief into a raw, jagged wound. My hospital gown was gone, replaced by a thin nightgown, but I felt naked, exposed, my soul ripped open. I clutched the pillow, my sobs choking me, my chest so tight I thought it’d burst.

The door creaked, and my breath caught.

Heavy footsteps. Trenton.

His silhouette filled the doorway, dark and towering, his white shirt crisp against his slacks, his handsome face a mask of cold stone.

My grief ignited into fury, my voice raw as I sat up, hands shaking. “You fucking monster! You heartless bastard!” I screamed, my words sharp, slicing through the air. “I curse the day the Goddess tied me to you!”

His expression didn’t flicker. If anything, the corner of his mouth twitched in something that almost looked like amusement.

“Finished?” he asked, voice smooth as ice.

“Finished?” I spat, my vision swimming. “You killed our child! You murdered your own blood for her—for that woman—”

His gaze sharpened like a blade. “Watch your tongue, Irene.”

“Or what? You’ll kill me too? Do it!” My fists trembled at my sides, but I stood, refusing to shrink before him. “You’ve already taken everything else!”

Instead of answering, he reached for the buttons of his shirt.

I froze. “What… what are you doing?”

The soft rip of fabric filled the room as he stripped away his clothes, piece by piece, until only his boxers remained. The sight of him—bare, towering, radiating menace—made my stomach twist with dread. My wolf whimpered deep inside me, a pathetic sound that only fueled my panic.

“No…” I scrambled back, the headboard digging into my spine, the wood cold and unyielding. My nightgown clung to my sweaty skin, too thin, too fragile, slipping off one shoulder. “Get away from me, Trenton!”

His blue eyes locked on mine, cold and merciless. “The doctor says Amira’s illness could flare up again. She may need more… treatment.”

The words slammed into me like a punch. My blood ran cold.

“No.” My voice cracked, strangled by disbelief. “No, you can’t— you can’t mean—”

“I need another child.” His tone was matter-of-fact, as if he were discussing a business deal. “And you’re going to give me one.”

My heart stopped, his words a knife to my gut. “Another child?” I choked, my voice cracking, disbelief and rage crashing together. “You think I’d let you touch me after what you did? You’re fucking insane!” I sprang off the bed, my bare feet hitting the cold hardwood, my pulse roaring in my ears as I bolted for the door, desperate to escape the suffocating room, his twisted plan.

He was faster.

His hand clamped around my wrist, yanking me back with a force that made my shoulder scream. “You don’t get to run,” he growled, his breath hot against my ear, his grip bruising.

I stumbled, and he threw me onto the bed, the mattress jolting under me. My nightgown rode up, exposing my thighs, and I scrambled to cover myself, my hands trembling. He loomed over me, kicking off his slacks, his boxers dropping next. His dick sprang free, hard and obscene, and bile burned my throat, my vision blurring with tears.

“No, Trenton, please!” I cried, my voice breaking as I kicked at him, my legs flailing uselessly. “Don’t do this! You can’t!” I begged, tears streaming down my face, my sobs raw and desperate.

He grabbed my arms, pinning them to the mattress, his weight crushing me, the bed creaking under us.

“Stop fighting,” he snarled, his breath reeking of whiskey, his eyes dark with something vile. “You’re mine, Irene. You always will be.”

I thrashed, my nails clawing at his arm, drawing blood, but he was too strong!

In a blind panic, I sank my teeth into his shoulder, biting down until I tasted copper. He hissed, jerking back, pain flashing across his face.

“You bitch!” he spat, stumbling off the bed, blood trickling down his arm, staining the sheets.

I clutched my torn nightgown, the fabric ripped at the shoulder, barely covering my chest. My chest heaved, but my voice was ice, shaking but defiant. “You’re a bastard, Trenton. A Goddess-damned monster! Over my dead body will I let you touch me again.”

He laughed, a sharp, cruel sound that cut deeper than any blade, wiping the blood from his shoulder with a sneer.

“You think you’re something special?” he mocked, his blue eyes glinting with malice. “You’re nothing, Irene. A pathetic leech. You should be grateful I gave you this life, this house, this bed.”

I flinched.

He turned to the door, his voice booming, cold, and commanding. “Guards!”

My blood turned to ice.

“No…” My voice was barely a whisper, strangled by terror. “No, please…”

Footsteps thundered down the hall. The door burst open, and four wolves stormed in, their faces blank, obedient.

My heart plummeted, my breath hitching.

“No!” I shouted, scrambling back, my back hitting the headboard, but Trenton’s smirk widened, sickeningly triumphant.

“Hold her,” he ordered, his voice dripping with venom, his eyes never leaving mine.

I screamed, kicking as two guards grabbed my wrists, their grip like steel, pinning my arms above my head. My shoulders burned, my body twisting uselessly.

The other two seized my legs, spreading them apart, the cold air hitting my skin like a slap, my nightgown tearing further.

“Treton! Please!” I sobbed, thrashing against their hold. “Don’t do this! I’ll die before I—”

“Then die,” he said coldly

“No! Let me go!” I shrieked, my voice raw, tears burning my cheeks. “Trenton, you bastard, stop this! You’re disgusting!”

Trenton laughed again, climbing onto the bed, his movements slow, deliberate, savoring my fear. “You’ll learn your place, mate,” he said, his voice low, chillingly calm.

His hands ruthlessly tore at the remnants of my nightgown, the fabric ripping with a sickening sound, leaving me exposed, vulnerable.

“Trenton please don't do this!” I screamed, my body jerking, but the guards held me down, their faces empty, like they didn’t hear my cries, my pleas.

He positioned himself between my legs, his weight heavy, suffocating. “You’ll give me what I want,” he growled, and then he thrust his cock into me, hard and brutal.

Pain exploded through me, sharp and humiliating, tearing a sob from my throat. I cursed him, my voice hoarse, broken. “You’ll burn for this, you piece of shit!” I spat, my words choked by tears. “I hate you! I’ll kill you!”

But he didn’t stop, his movements relentless, each one a violation, a theft of my dignity, my soul.

The room spun, the rain outside a distant roar, my body no longer mine.

Humiliation burned hotter than the pain, searing my core. I was nothing to him, just a tool, a vessel for his twisted needs. How did I not see this?

My screams faded into sobs, my strength draining with every brutal thrust. When he finally spilled inside me, he groaned, his weight collapsing briefly before he pulled away, standing like it was nothing, like he hadn’t just shattered me.

The guards released me, bowing to him as they left, their boots echoing like a death knell. I curled into myself, my body shaking, my torn nightgown barely covering me. My voice was a whisper, venomous but broken. “You’ll regret this, Trenton. I’ll make you pay.”

He smirked, pulling on his slacks, his movements casual, dismissive. “You’re nobody, Irene. A pathetic leech clinging to my name. Be grateful I gave you a better life than you deserved.” He turned, his footsteps fading as he left the room, the door slamming shut behind him.