Pregnant With His Heir, Buried by His Lies

Seven years ago, when Dorian first took his place as heir to the Valecrest bloodline's hunting grounds, it was my father who called in every old debt, leaned on every allied pack, and bled favors dry to help him consolidate his claim.

Later, when I was taken, dragged off the border-trail like a lamb cut from the herd, it was Dorian who fought his way into that den, left bodies cooling on the cold stone, and carried me out across his shoulders.

That day, I wept against his chest, believing with the desperate certainty of the young that I had found the man I would trust until my last breath.

And now, for another woman, he had driven us both into a dead end with no exits.

Fortunately, only three days remained.

I dragged my weakened body back to the house, the den my father had bought with everything he'd ever earned, every tribute he'd ever collected, every honest coin he'd scraped together over thirty years of patrol-service to the bloodline. The sight that greeted me at the door made my chest seize as if a fist had closed around my heart.

Trunks. Crates. My things. My father's things. Thrown out onto the threshold-stone like carrion left for the crows.

Dorian had cast out everything that belonged to us.

This den was bought with my father's blood and sweat, the whole of his life's savings poured into stone and timber.

What right did Dorian have to drive us out like rogues with no territory?

The air felt thick, impossible to draw into my lungs. I turned to leave, but through the gap in the door, my nose caught it before my eyes did. Candied jasmine layered over something faintly rotten, a thread of cold wolfsbane beneath it. Then I saw her.

Vesper Thornecroft sat perched in Dorian's lap, spooning broth past his lips with the tender care of a devoted oath-mate.

I forced my trembling hands to still. I raised my crystal communicator. I began to record.

Dorian's arm was wrapped around her waist, his fingers wandering with familiar restlessness across the silk of her dress. His voice dropped to that low, intimate register I had once believed was reserved only for me.

"In those days, I had nothing. No rank, no standing in the pack. I had no choice but to take a blood-oath mate for the bloodline's sake and let you go to another. All these years, you've suffered for it."

Vesper's cheeks flushed, her expression dripping with honeyed sweetness.

"Suffered? No, my love. Even when I bound myself to another wolf, did we ever truly stop? The only one who has ever satisfied me, the only one who knows how to touch me, has always been you, Dorian..."

Her words ignited something in him. He lowered his head and kissed her with the hunger of a starved wolf, though he'd been fed every day of his life.

"When the pup comes, we'll leave together. Cross the borders. Start fresh. Yes?"

Vesper made a soft, pleased sound against his mouth.

"The last time I carried, you made me end it. Why do you want this one?"

My heart clenched as though someone had reached through my ribs and squeezed. Deep beneath my skin, my wolf went very still, the way prey goes still when the trap has already closed.

Half a moon-cycle past six. She had been carrying then.

That was also when I first learned I bore his pup, and he had forced me onto the healer's table, claiming the timing was wrong, that it would interfere with bloodline matters, that there would be other heats, other chances.

I had always believed he was simply ambitious. Ruthless in his priorities. Cold, but practical.

But the real reason was that Vesper had disagreed.

My fingers shook, yet I held the communicator steady.

Vesper buried her face against his chest, her tone dripping with malicious sweetness, poison stirred into honey.

"At that time, we didn't know whose pup it was. How could I let some other she-wolf carry a bastard that might have been yours?"

Then came the wet, obscene sounds of their kissing.

Vesper's breathing grew soft and tangled, a sound I recognized from behind closed doors.

"Don't worry, my heart. This time, the pup is ours. Only ours."

Her words detonated in my ears, each syllable a blade slicing clean through my chest.

I could no longer watch. I lowered the communicator and turned to leave.

But my weakened legs betrayed me. I stepped wrong, my heel catching on the threshold-stone, and I knocked over a ceramic urn standing sentinel by the door.

It shattered against the marble like a snapping branch in a silent wood.

Dorian burst out at once, his face a mask of cold fury, the air around him thickening with the pressure of an Alpha's rising aura. When he saw me, disheveled, pale, barely standing, his expression flickered with something that might once have been concern before it hardened into contempt. His scent reached me a breath later, scorched oak and tarnished copper gone sour, and my wolf recoiled from it.

"What the hell did you do to yourself this time?"

In the next breath, he pulled Vesper behind him, shielding her with his body. His eyes held only worry for her.

"Trying to earn my sympathy again? Stop using these pathetic tricks, Seraphina. It's beneath even you."

Vesper recovered quickly, her composure sliding back into place like a mask. She let out a soft, mocking laugh.

"What's the plan this time? Running to the Pack Council to accuse me of putting your father in the healer's den? Who would believe the word of a hysterical oath-mate over mine?"

I looked at them both with eyes that had finally frozen over.

"If word of this reaches the wrong ears, if the other bloodlines learn how the Valecrest heir has been conducting himself, who people believe becomes a very different question."

Dorian's face contorted with rage. A low growl built beneath his words, and his eyes flashed gold for the space of a heartbeat.

"Seraphina, enough with your lies! I invited Vesper here for a meal. Nothing more. What filthy accusations are you inventing now?"

His voice dropped, taking on that reasonable tone I had learned to despise.

"If you would just make a public apology, smooth things over with the wolves who matter, we could still hold this arrangement together. I'll give you a pup eventually. A legitimate heir. Why won't you just accept what I'm offering?"

I had no interest in arguing with a man who had already shown me exactly who he was. I secured the communicator in my coat pocket, the scent-record safely stored within the crystal.

Just then, Vesper spoke, her voice soft as velvet.

"Dorian, my love, go fetch another bowl of broth. The Luna-to-be doesn't seem entirely unreasonable. Perhaps we can settle this calmly, she-wolf to she-wolf."

The moment Dorian disappeared into the kitchen, the gentle mask fell away like a snake shedding its skin. Vesper moved toward me, backing me into the corner with the deliberate grace of a predator stalking down wounded prey. Her scent thickened, that rot beneath the jasmine rising sharp enough to sting.

Her voice dropped to a hiss, low and venomous.

"Do you want to know why I put your father in the healer's den? Because he deserved it. Who told him to show off in front of me? To act like he still held standing in this pack? Dorian belongs to me. He has always belonged to me. Even if he took you for the bloodline's sake, even if you wear his promise-token and carry his name, he is mine."

Her lips curled into something that was not quite a smile.

"Your father got exactly what was coming to him."