The Ragpicker Mate He Cast Aside

Five years of gnawing at moon herbs, their bitter essence carving a path through my insides like molten iron, and finally, I carried the fruit of our bond.

But the moment our pup drew his first breath,Peter Thornfield, my mate, slammed the cursed moon blood test onto the birthing bed with a force that made the metal tray rattle like a death knell.​

"The pup isn't mine!"

His howl ripped through the air. "

You reek of another wolf! Sign the bond break and leave!"​

I bared my throat in a show of submission.

"I've never strayed! You know I've only hunted in our territory!"

With a brutal shove, he flung me out into the cold.

The harsh winter air hit me like a wall of ice.

On the desolate street, a rogue wolf, driven mad by moon fever, lunged at me.

His teeth sank into my neck, piercing my flesh like daggers, and the world dissolved into a sea of pain and darkness...​

Then, I jolted awake.

The fluorescent lights of the birthing room flickered overhead, casting an otherworldly glow over everything. I was back, in this place of hope and horror.​

"Look at our pup," Peter crooned.

He nuzzled the tiny bundle in his arms.

"Does he carry your storm-gray pelt, or my midnight fur?"

I flinched, the memory of his previous snarls and accusations crashing over me like a tsunami,.​

Suddenly, a blood - curdling howl shattered the tense silence-the shrill ringtone of Peter's phone. My gaze snapped to the screen.

There, in bold letters, was the name: Freya.

Just the sight of it was enough to turn my stomach inside out.

That she - wolf, with her honeyed lies and serpentine ways, had been the architect of my downfall once before.​

In my mind, I was transported back to that fateful day. Her whispers, like poisoned arrows, had found their mark in Peter's heart.

She had spun a web of deceit about me hunting with a strange male, and he had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.

The next dawn, the moon blood test-a test that was supposed to be a safeguard, but had become a weapon-had sealed my fate.

I had been home-bound, tending to our precious pup, with nothing but the elder healer and her moon herbs for company.

And yet, that test had lied, proclaiming our pup a bastard.​

"Freya," Peter growled, his voice a low.

Without another word, he stalked out of the room.​

I booked a place at the Lunar Maternity sanctuary.

When the sanctuary's guards arrived, all hell broke loose.

Peter's fury erupted like a volcano.

"Lila Vance! You drain our coffers on this? My hunts pay for your-"

"The fee comes from my sire's legacy," I snapped back. "Your monthly five silver pieces wouldn't buy a pup's chew bone."​

"Leave the pup. He's Thornfield blood," he commanded.​

"Like hell," I spat.

I shouldered past him, the soft whimper of my pup a battle cry that echoed in my ears, fueling my courage.

"You dare question my loyalty? Five years of moon herbs, vomiting under the full moon-all for this? You call me a traitor?"​