Victor ellis
I was the spare daughter. The one they trained, used, and never loved. When my parents needed a sacrifice to save our pack, they offered me instead of my younger sister Aria. I was forced into a mating bond with Deucalion, the cold First Son of Blackridge, under the full moon.
He knew I wasn’t the woman he wanted. In the private room after the ceremony, he took me with cold hunger. His mouth claimed mine hard. His hands shoved the gown down and closed over my breasts, thumbs dragging across my nipples until they ached. Two thick fingers pushed inside me without warning, curling deep. When he finally sank into me, the stretch burned. He claimed me with powerful strokes, hips slamming deep, one hand bruising my hip as he growled against my ear, “You are not her.” My body still came for him, tight, shaking and unwanted.
I endured months of isolation, his distance, and Aria’s open hatred. One violent fight finally broke me. I left in the middle of the night with nothing… not knowing his child was already grew inside me.
Years later I raised our son alone. He was strong, too strong. When he took down four warriors by himself, Blackridge came hunting, claiming only their blood can pull such a feat. Deucalion stood in front of me again, demanding the boy he never knew existed. Aria had failed to give them any heir and now lay sick from the strain of their bloodline.
He wanted his son.
I wanted my freedom.
The old mark still burned between us.
I will not hand over my child easily. And if Deucalion thinks he can walk back into my life, he will learn that the spare he discarded is no longer weak.
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