Marked by two Alpha's

Jean's pov

The room was cold, but not cold enough to numb me. I wished it were.

Agora moved above me like he always does. Mechanical, merciless, driven by the single goal that consumes him. His hands gripped my hips too hard, his teeth scraped my shoulder where he marked me months ago, sealing my fate. I don’t close my eyes anymore. I stared at the ceiling until I stared at nothing in particular. My body had stopped being mine long ago.

He doesn’t whisper love into my ears. He whispers orders.

“Relax,” he growled when my body tensed up, when my body betrayed my thoughts. “How will you ever conceive if you’re fighting me like this?”

Conceive. 

Breed. 

Vessel. 

That’s what I am to him. Nothing more.

When he’s finished, he rolled off me without a word, his chest rising and falling like he just endured some big chore. He doesn’t look at me. He never does afterward. He only says, “It’s been four moons. Do not fail me again.”

And then he’s gone, leaving me naked, sore, and sighing. 

I lay still for a long time, listening to the silence his voice brings. Then I pulled the blanket over my body, even though I felt unclean and grossed out in every way possible. I wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come out. I learned quickly that crying does nothing here.

The Luna of Bloodfang Pack does not weep.

Morning came quite earlier than I had expected.

The maids filed in, their faces carefully neutral but their eyes cutting. They whisper when they think I am not paying attention.

“Barren Luna.”

“Four months and nothing.”

“She doesn’t bleed properly, they say. Maybe cursed.”

I kept my chin high, even as a sick feeling stayed in my stomach. Their words clawed deeper than Agora ’s hands ever could. It didn’t matter how bold I appeared to be, or how coldly ordered, the rumors spread like wildfire. 

I dressed up slowly in the gown the maids brought for me, black silk that felt too heavy on my shoulders. When I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I almost couldn’t recognize myself. My cheeks were pale, my eyes hollow, my lips pressed in a thin line. I looked like someone fading, shrinking. Not Jean, daughter of Moonveil Pack. Not the wolf who once ran beneath silver moons and laughed at the wind.

A memory slipped unbidden, sharp as glass.

I remembered the night of my exile.

The council’s judgment was final. Barren, cursed, unfit to carry the bloodline forward. Wolves I had grown up beside turned their backs on me as I was marched from the hall, my mother’s cries swallowed by the roar of disapproval.

A seer stopped me at the border, her eyes clouded with white, her hands trembling as she seized mine.

“Your womb is not empty,” she whispered fiercely. “It is hidden. Beware, kings, child. Your blood will bear fire.”

I had ripped my hand away, choking on rage and despair. I thought she was mad. I thought she was cruel.

But her words haunted me still.

“Luna,” one of the maids called out softly, breaking me from my thoughts. “Alpha requests your presence at the training grounds.”

Of course he does. 

Agora always paraded me in front of the warriors like my presence meant anything more to him, or maybe to prove something. As if seeing their Luna will reassure them that heirs are on the way.

I walked there with my spine straight and my jaw tight. They stared, the warriors, some with respect, others stared with pity. I forced my eyes forward, as though I didn’t hear the whispers and some muttering under their breath.

Agora waited at the edge of the sparring field, broad shoulders gleaming with sweat as he drove his men to the ground with brutal efficiency. When his eyes met mine, his mouth curled. Not into a smile, but into an expression that suggested he was going to use me as a weapon in a game I didn’t want to play.

“Stand here,” he ordered, gesturing me to his side.

I obeyed, because disobedience always comes with a cost.

The training continued, Agora slamming men onto the ground, yelling at them to do better. 

“Is this what you call fighting?” he yelled

Every time he glanced at me, it was like he was daring me to flinch, daring me to look away. I kept my face straight, even though I was tempted to look away.

When the last warrior fell, Agora dismissed them with a wave. Then he turns to me, his gaze staring at my body lustfully. It sent a shiver down my spine.

“You will give me an heir,” he said quietly, but the calmness of his voice hinted at something sinister. 

It’s dangerous. 

Cold. 

“I don’t care what curses your old pack laid on you. You belong to me now, and you will not embarrass me.”

I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to tell him that being with him is enough embarrassment for me already, that I would rather be burnt alive than carry his child. But the words couldn’t be voiced out. My wolf growled inside me, restless and furious, but I silenced her before he heard me talking.

That night, as I sat alone in my chambers, the candle giving light to the room slightly, I let the memories engulf me, each one making me sigh.

I remembered the moment Agora extended his hand to me after my exile. He stood like a savior, offering marriage when no other Alpha would touch me. “Be mine,” he had said, “and no one will ever dare cast you out again.”

I had believed him. I had stepped into his world thinking I was safe.

What a fool I was.

The door opened and he walked in, smelling of steel and sweat. His eyes were sharp, glittering with something cruel.

“I gave you everything,” he says without preamble. “A name, a pack, a throne. And still you fail me.”

I stiffened, my hands curling in my lap. “I have not failed. The Moon Goddess decides these things.”

“The Moon Goddess?” He laughed, he sounded dark and cruel. “No, Jean. You will give me what I want, or someone else will.”

My heart raced. “What do you mean?”

He stepped closer, leaning down until I could feel his lips uncomfortably close to my ear. “If you fail me again…your sister may give me what you cannot.”

My stomach churned and turned. What does he mean by that?

Someone else?