1: It Started With an Open Relationship

MAEVE

It started with an open relationship. 

My boyfriend of three years, whom I've lived with for more than two years, suddenly announced that we should make our relationship open. 

I've noticed the changes in his behavior months before he made the announcement. Our sex life became non-existent, our conversations became sparse, and we basically lived as flatmates and not a couple. Whenever I tried to bring up our failing relationship, he'd wave it off as him being too busy with work. 

I noticed his late-night phone calls and the suspicious messages, but I forced myself not to think about it too much. This was John, my first-ever boyfriend, the first and only man to love me and treat me like I was the most beautiful woman on earth. The fact that we were having a rough time in three years shouldn't mean I should believe the worst of him. 

He'd come around. I was sure of that. But he didn't come around. We only grew even more distant with each other till I was forced to sit him down and ask him if I had done anything wrong. He insisted I hadn't done anything wrong, but then dropped this bombshell on me. 

“I think we should have an open relationship, Maeve. We've been together for almost three years, and to be frank, sex is starting to become boring. Fucking the same person and hearing the same moans and sounds for almost three years is now bothersome. I don't feel the spark anymore. Thinking about sex with you is enough to make me lose my libido, so I think we should diversify, meet, and sleep with other people. It'll keep things fresh.”

“No, John,” I quickly disagreed, alarmed that this was even a conversation, “we could spice things up, do role plays, and even see a sex therapist too…”

“No,” his tone was vehement, “it's not even about the sex, it's about you. I'm telling you this now so it doesn't look like I'm cheating on you. You can hang out with other guys, too. I won't mind. Just go out there and meet other people.”

I initially thought he was joking. That, after a couple of days, he'd laugh at my face and feign hurt that I didn't trust him and believed him when he said that nonsense. That didn't happen. Instead, he became more open with his late-night calls, and most times, he wouldn't come home at all. 

It tipped over when I returned home one evening, and I saw him sitting on the dining chair, a brunette kneeling in front of him, with her head bobbling up and down against his crotch. 

He saw me, looked away from me, and only wrapped his hand around her ponytail to guide her movement better. 

Bile rose in my throat, and tears stung my eyes. I went to the room we share and only came out when I was sure the brunette had left. 

“Really, John? Cheating on me and having the audacity to bring your whore to our house?” I accused, but he didn't even look at me. He took his time drinking from a cup before answering me. 

“I never cheated on you, Maeve. We agreed on an open relationship.”

“We never agreed. You suggested it and I turned it down.”

“Well, I'm insisting on an open relationship. It's up to you whether or not you want to take it up, but I'll have more sexual partners and I might even bring some over to the house.” 

He sidestepped me to walk away while tears stung my eyes. We used to be so good, and I didn't even realize things had gotten this bad. 

“What went wrong, John? Tell me so that I can fix it.” I pleaded, but my boyfriend of three years only shook his head. 

“Why are you blowing things out of proportion, Maeve? Open relationships are normal. A lot of couples do this all the time. Are you worried that no other man will look at you? That no other man would want you? Then, maybe you should work on your body, fix yourself, make yourself more flexible in bed and just learn how to make a man happy. The only reason why you don't want this is probably because you know I'm the only man who has ever looked at you.”

He hit me where it hurt the most. We met when I was 20, and before then, I'd only been with one guy. That was in my senior year, and it turned out that I was just a dare for him. It's been a dry spell till I met John. He was the first guy to treat me like I was a queen. The first and only guy, and maybe he was right. I was afraid of letting him go. 

I couldn't bring up a breakup because I was scared of being alone, because I've grown to be so dependent on him. Because I loved him that much. 

So I stayed back, prayed, and hoped he'd get over this phase soon. He didn't get over the phase. He only grew more audacious with his whores and partners. I walked in one evening to meet him between the legs of one of his whores on our bed. 

On what would have been our matrimonial bed. 

I left the house that day. I was so blinded with hurt and anger, and I knew I couldn't remain in the house with him. 

I went to my friend’s house, narrated my ordeal to her, and the only thing she said was that I shouldn't continue to suffer in the relationship. That I had to go out there and meet other men or break it off completely with John. 

Neither option was conceivable to me. I spent the night in her house, hoping that by morning, John would have flooded my phones with calls and messages. 

But John didn't call, not even once, and he didn't drop a single message. 

By the third evening, Tracy was tired of me moping around, so she forced me to dress up and follow her to a club. I complied because I needed to get out of the house and because I was certain that the loud music and the club's activities would distract me from my despair. 

Barely an hour into the club, I was already feeling out of place in the short red gown that stopped inches below my butt and the red heels Tracy had forced me to wear. It wasn't my style. I was more of a pants-and-shirt girl, and I felt like an imposter in the short gown, 5-inch heels, and cat-eyed makeup. She had gotten a lot of guys to come over to our booth, but most of them were only interested in her. The few ones that looked at me didn't care about boundaries and had even gone ahead to touch my exposed thighs and slide their hand up towards my upper thigh. 

Tracy wanted me to relax, go with the flow, and hook up with one of the guys. I didn't want that, so I excused myself under the guise of going to the bathroom. I walked around the club, past the dance floor and the bar, till I left the main club area behind. I took the lift to the top floor, hoping that it'd be an open space where I could get some fresh air, but when the lift’s door opened, it was right to what looked like the middle of an orgy party. I hastily shut the door and pressed the ground floor button. I was going to go back to the club and force Tracy to leave. 

The door opened when the lift got to the fifth floor, and I instinctively shifted back even though I was the only one in it. The person stepped in with an aura so powerful. I could tell they weren't human and that they were a superior supernatural too. 

That made me look up at the person who was now taking their place directly beside me, and they were none other than my stepbrother and the alpha heir to the Moon Walker’s Pack. 

Lucien Thorne