Claimed By The Possessive Silver Wolf

Caleb's cold gaze swept the crowd. His arm remained locked around Cora's waist, his grip unyielding. One by one, the lingering males dropped their eyes. Satisfied that the immediate challenge had passed, he loosened his hold just enough to let her breathe. He set the heavy sack of fruit at his feet, freeing his hand. Cora took a half-step to the side, grateful for the sliver of space, though his palm found the small of her back and stayed there—a silent, proprietary warning to any male who might get ideas.

Jana's face burned with humiliation. The males in the crowd were no longer looking at her with desire; they were looking at her with barely concealed smirks. Her strongest mate had been defeated in one hit.

She couldn't let this slide. Her status in the tribe depended on her dominance.

She straightened her spine and stalked toward Cora, her high-heeled boots clicking on the hard-packed earth. She stopped inches away, looking down her nose at the smaller girl.

"Where did you get those strange clothes? Did you crawl out of a garbage heap in the lowlands?" Jana's voice was dripping with venom.

Cora took a deep breath. She was terrified, and just a moment ago she had sworn to keep her head down. But the sheer venom in the woman's voice crossed a line. The modern, independent New Yorker in her refused to be bullied like a helpless victim. "What I wear is none of your business. At least I don't need to put others down to feel important."

Jana's eyes widened. No female in the tribe dared to speak back to her like that.

Then, her gaze dropped to Cora's wrists and neck. A cruel smile spread across her face.

"Look!" Jana shrieked, pointing at Cora's bare skin. "She has no mate marks! She is unclaimed!"

The crowd gasped. In this world, an adult female without a mate mark was an anomaly. It meant she was either barren or cursed.

The males who had been eyeing Cora with lust suddenly stepped back, their expressions shifting to suspicion and disgust.

"No mark means she can't handle male energy," Jana declared loudly, her voice carrying across the clearing. "She's a barren waste! Useless for breeding!"

Breeding? Mate marks? Cora's mind spun. What kind of twisted, animalistic society was this? The terminology sounded like she had stumbled into some bizarre wildlife documentary.

The words hit Cora like a physical blow. She saw the change in the crowd. The desire was gone, replaced by the cold calculation of men looking at a defective product.

Caleb's body went rigid. The air around him grew heavy. He took a step toward Jana, his hand rising, fingers curved like claws.

He was going to kill her.

Cora saw the intent in his eyes. If he killed Jana, the whole tribe would turn on them. She had to do something.

She twisted under his palm and threw herself against his arm, grabbing onto it with both hands, hanging on with all her weight.

His head snapped toward her, his eyes wild with the urge to protect.

"That's right," Cora said, her voice shaking but clear. She looked Jana dead in the eye. "I can't have children. I'm barren."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then, the males in the crowd let out a collective sigh of disappointment. They turned away, losing interest instantly. A beautiful female was worthless if she couldn't produce offspring.

Jana blinked. She hadn't expected Cora to agree with her. The wind was completely taken out of her sails. If Cora was barren, she was no threat to Jana's status as the tribe's queen bee.

Jana's sneer melted into a look of dismissive pity. "Pathetic," she muttered.

Then, her gaze shifted from Cora to Caleb. She didn't immediately move. Her calculating eyes swept over his towering, muscular physique, lingering on his broad chest and the absolute raw power radiating from him. Then, she looked at the remains of the Fourth-Tier beast carcass being hauled away behind him. The realization of his immense value hit her. Greed washed over her face, quickly followed by a predatory lust. A new kind of hunger lit up her eyes. Caleb was clearly a powerful warrior. A Fourth-Tier beast killer. And he was stuck with a useless female.

Jana smoothed her feather dress and sashayed over to Caleb, ignoring Cora completely.

"A strong male like you shouldn't be wasted on a barren stick," Jana purred, trailing a finger down her own collarbone. "I can give you what she can't. Strong cubs. Pleasure."

She reached out, her fingers aiming for Caleb's chest.