THE CHUBBY LUNA’s CONTRACT MARRIAGE TO THE LYCAN KING

MAYA

I gave up my father’s pack for Caleb. I gave up my birthright and my family because I loved him. I am a plus-sized woman. In a world that values thin, athletic female warriors, my heavy body was always a disappointment to my pack.

For six years, I worked like a slave for Caleb. I cleaned the pack house. I cooked all the meals. My body grew even heavier from the stress and the constant work. Caleb stopped looking at me. He stayed out late every night. I tolerated his coldness only because we had a son.

Leo was two years old with very weak lungs. He needed his medicine at eight o'clock every single night. If he missed his dose, his throat closed up and he could not breathe. I had to drive to the next town to get fresh herbs for his medicine because Caleb never made sure his drugs were kept in stock.

"I will be back by nine," I told Caleb before I left. I touched his hand, but he pulled away from me. "Give him his medicine at eight. It is on the counter. Do not forget, Caleb. He cannot breathe without it."

"I can take care of my own son, Maya," Caleb said in the same cold, dismissive tone he always used when I brought up Leo.

A heavy storm delayed my journey, causing me to be two hours late. I returned to the kitchen only to see the medicine bottle shattered on the floor. I ran up the stairs. I pushed open the door to Leo's bedroom. He was lying on his back. His lips were blue. His little hands were clenched into tight fists. He was cold. He was not breathing.

I held his body to my chest as the sudden realization dawned on me. My son was dead.

Caleb walked into the room. He did not have his shirt on. He had fresh red scratches on his neck and shoulders. He smelled like cheap lavender perfume. His secretary, Clara, always wore that perfume. Clara walked in behind him, wrapping his jacket around her bare shoulders.

Caleb looked at me on the floor. He looked at Leo's blue face. He did not cry.

"What did you do?" I asked. My voice was cracked and raw. "Why is he dead, Caleb? Where was his medicine?"

"The bottle broke, Maya," Caleb said.

"How did it break?" I screamed. I stood up, clutching my dead baby to my chest. "I left it on the counter. Why did you not get more? Why did you not call the doctor?"

Clara stepped behind Caleb, looking at me with a small smile.

"We were in the kitchen," Caleb said. "Clara and I. We were on the counter. We knocked the bottle over. By the time we noticed, it was too late."

"You were sleeping with her on the kitchen counter?" I asked. My mind was completely numb. "While our son was suffocating upstairs?"

"It was an accident," Caleb said.

"You killed him," I screamed. "You are a murderer! You let our baby die so you could touch her!"

"Watch your mouth, you fat cow," Caleb snapped. He stepped forward and hit me across the face.

The force of his hand knocked me to the floor. I kept my arms wrapped tightly around Leo.

"Look at you," Caleb said, looking down at me. "You are slow. You are heavy. You are a useless, weak wolf. You could not even give me a strong heir. You gave me a broken boy with garbage genes. He was always going to die, Maya. He inherited your weakness. He was a burden to my pack, and I am glad he is gone."

"He was your son," I whispered. Tears and blood mixed on my lips. "He was your baby."

"He was a mistake," Caleb said. He turned to Clara and put his arm around her waist. She giggled and pressed her body against his. "Clara will give me strong sons. Beautiful sons. Not weak, fat things like you. I, Caleb, Alpha of the Red Leaf pack, reject you, Maya. I reject you as my mate. I reject you as my wife."

The mate bond snapped. The pain was so intense that I gasped for air, but I did not bow my head. I looked at him with pure hatred.

"Get the guards," Caleb told Clara. "Throw her out."

The guards came in and took Leo's body from my arms. I fought them. I bit them. I screamed until my throat bled, but they were too strong. They dragged me to the border and threw me into the dirt.

I walked all night in the rain. I had nothing. I hated Caleb, and I hated all men. At sunrise, I walked into a small bar called The Crossing. I sat down and put my gold wedding ring on the counter.

"Give me a bottle of whiskey," I told the bartender.

He took the ring and gave me the bottle. I drank until my head was spinning. I drank to forget. Then, I heard a child cry in the corner of the bar.

I stood up. My legs were shaky. I walked toward the crying sound. A little boy was sitting on the floor by a table. He was about two years old. He had soft golden curls. He had the exact same face as Leo.

I fell to my knees. I pulled the boy into my arms.

"Leo," I sobbed. I pressed my face into his hair. "Leo, you are alive. I am so sorry. I am so sorry I left you."

The heavy wooden door of the tavern blew open. The air in the room became freezing cold. A thick pressure filled the tavern. The entire room went dead silent. The rough men at the bar dropped to their knees, pressing their faces against the floor.

A man walked through the door. He was incredibly tall. He wore a long, heavy black coat. His shoulders were incredibly broad. His face was hard and pale. He was Merikh, the Lycan King. The most feared leader in the entire region. Two armed guards walked behind him.

Merikh's eyes scanned the room. They locked onto me.

"Give me the boy, that is Liam," one of Merikh's guards ordered, stepping toward me. "Now."

I did not let go of the child. I pulled him tighter against my thick chest. I let out a low, vicious growl.

"Touch him and I will bite your throat out," I snapped. "Get away from my son."

The guard drew his weapon.

"Stop," Merikh said. His voice was low, like thunder.

Merikh walked toward me. He knelt on the floor in front of me. He did not look angry. He looked closely at my face, noting the blood on my forehead, my mud-covered clothes, and my swollen eyes.

Liam was not crying anymore. He had his little fingers wrapped tightly around my wet shirt.

"You are not his mother," Merikh said. His dark grey eyes locked onto mine. "Why are you holding my son?"

His son? How’s that possible?