SHE TOO WANTS MY BODY, NO WAY

MAYA

For two full weeks, a dark, suffocating routine took hold of the attic room. Every night, once the estate grew dead silent, Alpha Edward returned to my quarters.

His visits were driven by a strange, searching obsession. In the dim glow of the moonlight, his hands would trace my skin as if trying to decode a memory his mind couldn't quite grasp. The encounters were intense and overwhelming, the love making very good and I love the way he stares into my vagina hole like he was searching for something, he will then play with my clitoris ensuring his ten fingers all felt the wetness and despite the years I had spent hardening my heart on the streets, my body betrayed my cold intentions—responding helplessly to the familiar weight of his presence and the instinctual pull of our reconnected bond.

On one particularly intense night, the barrier between Maya the street orphan and Philomena the murdered princess shattered completely. Overwhelmed by the heat between us, a loud, desperate moan escaped my throat, echoing off the bare stone walls as I gripped the thin sheets.

Edward froze instantly. All movement stopped. He leaned down, his amber eyes burning through the gloom, searching my face with wild, terrifying sharpness.

"Philomena," he breathed.

The name hung in the cold night air like a ghost. Shock and horror surged through my veins, freezing the breath in my chest.

"Why... why did you call me that?" I whispered, my heart hammering violently against my ribs.

Edward’s expression hardened in a second. The warmth in his eyes vanished behind a wall of cold, unyielding Alpha authority. "Do not ask questions," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "You are here for a single purpose. Keep your mouth shut."

"You are a breeder," a sharp, venomous voice dripped from the shadows near the doorway.

Maria stepped forward, her silk robe rustling softly. She looked down at us with complete, icy detachment. "You are not here to enjoy yourself, make noise, or get comfortable. You get pregnant, you take your money, and you leave."

Edward pulled away, his jaw tight. He looked at his wife, then turned a cold, distant gaze back to me. "She is right. You do not ask questions, maid."

Without another word, Edward pulled on his clothes and marched out into the corridor, leaving behind a silence thick with tension.

I sat up on the narrow mattress, pulling the sheet over my chest. Watching them present a united front made the bitter truth crystal clear: despite their internal power struggles, this couple was completely aligned in their plan to use me, harvest my child, and discard me a second time.

As I reached for my dress, Maria stepped closer, her eyes scanning my body with a calculating, uncomfortable scrutiny.

"Hold on," she commanded.

She stepped up to the edge of the bed, subjecting me to a cold, clinical physical inspection to ensure there were no injuries or complications that might jeopardize her plan. She had my open my legs and she had her fingers deep inside my hole, she played with it a little bit, but she said, “I am only examining your body.”

She treated my body like a piece of livestock being evaluated before market.

"Don't get any dramatic ideas," Maria said flatly, tossing a clean towel onto the mattress. "You are a vessel, nothing more. And the pack doctor is already downstairs."

Within minutes, the door swung open again. Dr. Vance, the private pack physician loyal to Edward, entered the small room with his silver medical kit. He performed a swift, precise blood draw and ran a localized diagnostic spell over my lower abdomen.

A heavy silence filled the room as the doctor waited for the magical reader to settle. Finally, he looked up at Maria and gave a single, firm nod.

"It's done, Luna," Dr. Vance announced. "The bond took. She is two weeks pregnant."

A slow, triumphant smile spread across Maria’s face—a smile full of dark greed and victory. She looked at me not as a person, but as a container that had successfully accepted her golden ticket.

"Excellent," Maria purred, her eyes shining with cold triumph as she turned to Dr. Vance. "You will monitor her round the clock. Every meal she eats, every step she takes, will be regulated. I want this child delivered without a single flaw."

"Of course, Luna," Dr. Vance replied, bowing his head respectfully before packing his instruments. "I will prepare a strict prenatal regimen immediately. She will require rest, nutrient-dense meals, and minimal physical stress."

Maria turned back to face me, her posture practically glowing with arrogance. "Did you hear that, street rat? Your days of scrubbing floors and clearing bushes are over. From this moment on, you sit in this room and nourish that child. But do not confuse care for affection. The moment that baby takes its first breath, your presence in this territory expires."

"Understood, Luna," I mumbled, keeping my eyes fixed on the threadbare blanket covering my knees, projecting the image of a helpless, terrified girl who knew her place.

"Good," she sneered, stepping back toward the door. "Dr. Vance, make sure she receives her first tonic tonight. I want no risks."

As the heavy wooden door clicked shut behind them, leaving me alone in the dim quarters, the timid posture vanished instantly. I sat up straight, unbuttoning the collar of my tunic to gaze at the dark, faint mark near my shoulder—the physical proof that the Alpha’s bloodline now beat within me once again.

Eighteen years ago, Maria thought she had erased Philomena from existence with a single blow. She had stolen my father's pack, stripped away my birthright, and left my spirit to linger in the cold afterlife. She believed that power was built on violence, deceit, and buying off those she considered beneath her.

She had no idea that the child growing inside me did not belong to a nameless street orphan. It carried the blood of the Crimson Ridge royal line—the rightful bloodline of the throne she so desperately tried to claim as her own.

A slow, cold smile spread across my lips as I placed my palm gently against my stomach.

Enjoy your illusion of victory while it lasts, Maria, I thought, the dark fire in my soul burning hotter than ever. You think you just bought an heir to secure your empire. You have no idea you just funded the return of the true queen—and sealed your own death warrant.