Her Second Chance Mate

Ariezel

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Each kick hurt, the pain blooming in my legs as he stepped on me. I was too weak to fight it, too tired to avoid it.

“Stupid bitch.”

“Whore.”

“Useless.”

I let his words float over me like clouds. Even through the void of nothingness that I saw, they remained potent.

Finally the hits stopped and relief hit me. I hadn't shed a tear throughout. I had learned not to in the time that passed.

“Look at you. So pathetic.”

I heard the sound before I felt the warm wetness on my face. He had spit on me. Still my eyes remained closed.

“You'd better make sure this place is clean before anyone comes. That's all you're good for anyways.”

His words entered me, yet I stayed still even as his footsteps retreated.

The moment the door which sounded so far away shut, I waited for a few more seconds before attempting to rise up.

Each part of my body twinged with every shift. A particularly sharp pain spread across my shoulder. I used my equally bruised hand to check it, feeling wetness through the fabric.

Bringing it to my face there was no doubt from the blood. It was an open wound.

In routine, I took deep breaths. It was fine. There were no cracked ribs like before.

It was fine. I was fine.

He wasn't going to come back in a while. He had had his fill of stress relief this morning after all.

Thankfully the walls of our room were soundproof, so nobody heard my screams as he greeted me with a beating that morning.

I stood up carefully, the ache on my ribs making me hiss and shut my eyes tightly. I gritted my teeth, fighting the unbearable aches as I looked around.

The living room was as I expected; a disaster. The table was toppled over. The pillows over the chairs were strewn everywhere. The chairs and sofa were shifted away from the primly placed positions they were in.

The maids usually came in the mornings, I had to ensure the place was in order before then.

So fighting the pain wracking my body,  I moved.

I began with the chairs. The routine of rearranging and cleaning the place though varying was always somewhat calming and meditative. The perfect way of coping from the pains and aches that burned with every movement. I sank into my thoughts wholeheartedly.

This was it. My daily life as the Luna of the Blue Solstice pack and the wife of Derek Haider.

If you asked me two years ago, I wouldn’t have imagined that this was the way my life would have been.

Yet after two years of Derek becoming the Alpha, my life had become a living hell. Luna of the pack by day, Derek's punching bag every other time. A sharp pain bloomed from my feet, taking away my thoughts.

I looked down to see the shards of a small vase. I recognized it. it was the one he threw in my direction, only a preamble for what was to follow.

It seemed I had stepped on one of them moving backwards. I managed to shake it out.

The thought of bending over to sweep it away was aggravating. When the maids came, could I convince them that it was a clumsy mistake?

No. I decided. It was better to stay safe than sorry afterall.

I sighed as I sent off the pieces into the bin, the ceramic falling with muffled clanks. There was no time to waste. At any moment the maids were going to arrive. I couldn’t let them see the mess this was, lest they uncover my reality.

As I moved, a wave of dizziness came over me, making me stumble in my tracks.

The dizziness I could brush off. The churn in my stomach which came after couldn't be stopped.

Bile rose in my throat and I instinctively knew what came next.  Despite the bruises and pain I was in,  I ran all the way to the bathroom.

I got there in time, vomiting everything I ate the second I reached the sink.

Soon all I had were dry wretches, each reflux making my stomach twist in pain and heightening the pain of the punches I had suffered there.

When it finally stopped, I turned on the top to rinse my mouth while looking down, seeing the waste and bile go down the drain.

I leaned down as I wondered what was wrong with me.

The dizzy spells had persisted for a week. I brushed it off, believing that it was due to the effect of the beatings.

Yet it hadn't stopped, and I was tired of holding it back. There was no other choice.

I had to go to the pack doctor.

…

I waited anxiously as the pack doctor took my blood for testing.

“You may have to wait for a while,” he said. He turned away towards his lab area, covered with a curtain.

As he disappeared from view, I finally hissed against the natural cold of the hospital which made my bruises hurt more.

I didn't need to hide them here. The pack doctor knew of my husband's nature as he treated me everytime. He never tried to help or act like he cared, only giving me a look of pity everytime I came.

I hated him. I didn't want to be so vulnerable around someone so indifferent.

So despite the wound on my shoulder, I stayed strong.

By the time he came out, his expression was strange.

“Your results have arrived.” he said, pausing before he continued.

“I believe congratulations  are in order, Luna.” Despite his words, his tone sounded more like a funeral march.

Confusion filled me with his words.

“What? What do you mean by 'congratulations'?” I asked.

“It is not sickness that ails you,” he said.

He paused for a moment, and somehow in his eyes I felt the familiar hint of pity.

“You are pregnant.”