SOPHIA'S POV
I stood outside the villa for a long time. The winter wind whipped against my face, leaving it as numb as my heart. When the thermometer pressed against my forehead, I knew it was that day of the month again.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The sharp alarm sounded, and the brass bell hanging at the main gate was immediately rung, urgent, like a death knell.
The two wolfguards stationed by the door finally stepped aside, silent. There was no respect in their eyes for me, their Luna, only indifference and impatience. And all of this was permitted by my husband, Alpha Damian.
“Hurry inside! Your fertile window won't wait for you!”
Just as I was about to step forward, the housekeeper, Mary, rushed out first, her tone sharp and hurried, as if I were the one keeping myself outside.
To an outsider, it would look like I was a surrogate mother here to meet her client.
But the truth?
I was here to see my mate, my husband, yet every time, it was like this: confirmed by the thermometer, summoned by the bell, scolded by the housekeeper.
And my arrival truly was like that of a surrogate, fulfilling a biological contract, a mechanical transaction and nothing more. All because, as Luna, I had only given birth to a daughter in all these years, failing to produce a male heir for this pack. Even though I nearly died bringing my daughter into the world, my heart stopping multiple times on the operating table. None of it mattered.
In this werewolf society, still clinging to primal traditions, a woman's worth is measured only by her fertility. And my husband is no ordinary man, he is the Alpha, the leader of this pack. Without a male heir, Damian's position would be questioned, even challenged by other Alphas. And I, Damian's mate, forced upon him, standing in the way of him and his true love, Tiffany, if I also cost him his power, I would have no reason to exist at all. How ironic, the fate of a power I would never possess rested entirely on my shoulders.
I lowered my head, a self-mocking twist to my lips, and followed Mary step by step through the familiar yet alien hallway to Damian's door. This place I visited only once a month, this husband I saw only during my fertile window.
“Come in.”
Mary's hand was just raised to knock when the voice came from inside first.
Of course. He always knew when I was coming. We are bound mates, he can always catch my scent, just as I can catch his. Only in moments like these was there any proof our mate bond still existed.
Mary withdrew her hand and stepped aside. I pushed the door open. Damian stood by the window, his back to me, broad shoulders etched in cold, hard lines by the moonlight.I closed the door behind me. He didn't turn, just issued a cold command;
“Take off your pants. Get on the bed, on your stomach.”
Even though it happened like this every month—I should be used to it—I still couldn't help but flinch. Humiliation washed over me like a tide.
I opened my mouth, wanting to say something.
Maybe “Hello,” maybe “Can we talk first?” But before the words could form, Damian's voice grew sharper;
“Now! Or would you prefer Mary to assist you?”
My fingers curled tight.
This wasn't a threat, he would do it.
Last time I hesitated too long, he really did call in two maids. They stripped me bare right there, pressing me down onto the bed. That humiliation, I would never forget. So I clenched my jaw, walked to the bed, and began unbuttoning my clothes with trembling fingers. With each piece that fell, I felt another layer of my dignity stripped away. Finally naked, I obeyed, lying face down on the bed. Like a she-wolf in heat, not yet in human form.
There was a rustle behind me. I thought about turning, about speaking, but then a tall, heated body was already pressing down on me.
No foreplay. No tenderness. Not even a word.
He entered me, moving with rough, mechanical thrusts.
Pain and shame intertwined.
I bit my lip hard, refusing to make a sound, only faint whimpers escaping my throat.
I started counting in my head.
One, two, three...
It was the only way to detach myself from this mechanical transaction.
Ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight.
It was over.
Damian withdrew from me. I heard the sound of him dressing. The entire time, he didn't speak a word, didn't look at me once. I pushed myself up, wrapping the thin blanket scattered by the bed around me. My voice was hoarse.
“Damian... can we talk?”
His footsteps paused for a second, but he didn't turn.
“Talk about what?” His tone was icy. “About how you still haven't conceived an heir?”
“I wanted to ask...” I heard myself say, my voice trembling despite my efforts to steady it. “Can Ashley come live with me? I haven't seen her in so long. I miss—”
“I haven't stopped you from seeing her.” Damian cut me off, finally turning around.
His face was in shadow, his expression unreadable, but his amber eyes held no warmth.
“Your only task now is to get pregnant and bear an heir. Until that's done, don't ask for anything beyond your place.”