The Beast's Virgin Claim

The other times I would feed him my cooking and he surprisingly ate even would praise its taste and my skills but nothing more than that. We were gradually falling apart and I knew we needed to talk to settle things between us once and for all but he was unwilling.

He preferred to keep his distance, the painful memories the cottage held for him made him edgy and each time I invited him inside pleading with him there was always hesitance in his eyes as though he was frightened of the four walls and...me. I became my male's worst nightmare.

It was like our relationship held no title. Not friends, not lovers, not even acquaintances just another random pair of mates chosen by the moon who shared a pup. For me, time stood still but the reality that was three months had already passed by and I had been ignorant to it. Phobos never failed to be a good father, a good male for in those twelve weeks he was there at my beck and call.

Anything I wanted for Tadeas or myself would be provided for without question but yet as our male developed from a newborn to a three-month-old our cabin was not filled with rich laughter or warmth as it once had been but an eerie stillness that bruised me. I wanted our pup to grow around parents who loved each other around giggles and happiness but instead, he was growing up without either.

It was not just our relationship that was altered even the prior decisions he made as Alpha was revised. Argus was ruled out as his next heir and instead was put at the forefront to be one of his warriors to be Tadeas's future top warrior and Moira's male saw no problem with it. He was rather happy for he could return to his previous activities and had more time to play with his friends.

As for Moira, she could hardly meet my gaze each time she wandered past me her head dipped low and she whimpered. She had new scars on her arms which resembled deep claw marks and they were quite visible for all to see.

It was a deep-rooted dread she retained in her eyes and body when I went near to her but not one that I instilled within her, something had happened between Phobos and Moira but I was not in the condition to ask around for answers. Whatever happened between them after I left tore apart whatever was left of their friendship, she called my male by his first name no more.

I thought I would be pleased with everything that was happening but I was not. Phobos was not doing well, his wolves feared him more than they should, there was this consistent tension and unease that were present on our grounds. There was no more sociable chatter or laughter either just like in my cottage. The pack had fallen apart in my absence and I once more was lost.

I needed to figure out how to turn all that around as though nothing had happened. But I desperately wanted to start with Phobos for he was the one who held the power to fetch back lost time. As he always said, time bent to his will. He could change things revert them to how they once were I was sure of it.

I had been mentally and emotionally preparing myself and coming up with ways to lure him out of the wilderness and corner him so I could force him to speak his truth with me. To discuss with me what he feels and I in return. So we could somehow move past our issues for Tadeas and us but never in my wildest dreams did I hope for this to take place.

He is not the kind of male to lose control of himself much but here he is right in front of me with not even an inch of self-restraint held in his palms.

The pitter-patter of drops of water tumbling onto the wooden floor of my bedroom had roused me from sleep. It was late at night and it was a sound that bewildered me for there was no downpour outside. I had twisted around in my bed to browse my room drowsily and in the darkness, I discovered a silhouette seated on the floor opposite the bed next to the door and I knew who it was.

I lean to the side and quickly switch on the night lamp that illuminates the room a little, good enough for me to detect his alluring features that were obscured by the shadows. His eyes are half-hooded, bright red and heavily drugged. He is crouched down with his legs pulled close to his chest and his forearms positioned over his knees.

There is a half-emptied bottle of alcohol in one of his hands and the other holds a sharpened blade that drills into the slashed flesh of his left inner palm. My eyes enlarge when I tardily realise what that sound was, it was not of water or rain clearly but his blood. He is sitting so casually in a puddle of his own blood brought out by a self-inflicted wound.

I unhurriedly push away the blankets from my being and his blues are agile to dilate and darken voraciously when he catches my quivering body in the fair pink skimpy nightgown that barely conceals anything. It was the only one I could find that went undamaged by him, it was new I had never worn it before so he did not touch it when hunting for my scent in my absence.

I kneel upon the frigid ground and tensely take a seat in front of the bed. I need to tread carefully for he is not in a good state of mind. He is drunk but so much that he has no idea what he is doing.

"Phobos?" I call him desiring his attention as his orbs have adhered to my stripped thighs as they linger and feast on the unblemished skin that summons him to take a bite.

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