~Catherine's Pov~
I stood frozen, my feet rooted to the ground as my mind struggled to process what had just happened. The man who had dragged his tongue over me, who had licked, sucked, and claimed my body like it belonged to him—that man was Evander's son?
And he knew I was his father's wife. So why had he done it? Was this some kind of twisted test? A way to measure my loyalty?
My stomach churned.
"So," the stranger —now confirmed to be my stepson, pressed, raising a brow. "Why did you hit her?"
Gen let out a nervous laugh, shifting on her feet. "You know how humans can be," she said quickly. "Such clumsy creatures."
"Clumsy?" His voice was sharp, unamused. "What exactly did she handle clumsily?"
"Umm… she—"
"Your ego, if I had to guess." He folded his arms, his expression bored. "This is getting tedious. You hit her, so now she hits you back. Simple."
I turned to him, my eyes widening. Was he trying to get me killed? I had never hit a maid before—I was usually on the receiving end of those slaps. Hell, most days, I felt more like a glorified maid myself than the Alpha's wife.
"I… I can't," I stammered.
"Exactly," Gen cut in, forcing a smile. "It was just a misunderstanding, Your Majesty. Maybe I stepped out of line, but like she said, she can't do it."
"Do it," he sighed, as if this entire conversation was beneath him.
"What?" Gen and I blurted out at the same time.
I was still reeling from the shock of discovering who he was. Part of me wanted to lie, to claim I'd been drunk, that nothing serious had happened. But what if there was evidence? What if my room had been monitored? A cold chill shot down my spine, but I kept my face carefully blank.
"I didn't stutter," he said, his voice dropping into something dangerous. "If you take too long, I'll do it myself."
Gen hesitated, her hands shaking. Then, reluctantly, she swung her palm against her own face with a sharp crack that made me flinch. She looked up at him, her cheek already reddening, her breath uneven.
He took a step back, studying her like she was some kind of exhibit. "Use your claws."
Gen's face went pale. "W… what?"
"If you want to prove werewolf dominance over a human, then do it properly," he said with a shrug.
I bit my tongue, afraid that if I spoke, I'd be the one in her place.
Gen let out a shaky breath before her claws slid out, glinting in the light. With a wince, she dragged them across her own face. Blood welled up instantly, dripping onto the floor. I clapped a hand over my mouth, fighting the urge to gag.
"Now," he said, smiling. "What was it you wanted from her again?"
Gen's voice was barely a squeak. "I… I needed her to serve the Duke and his Duchess."
"There are about fifty servants in this palace, last I checked. Were there direct orders from the Alpha to send her on errands?"
"No," she admitted quickly. "But he's never complained, and the Luna approved—"
"You have your answer," he interrupted. "Send someone else."
"Y-yes, Your Highness."
I almost bolted after her, desperate to escape, but his hand closed around my wrist, yanking me back inside before slamming the door shut. In an instant, I was pinned against it, his body crowding mine.
I trembled like a leaf as he smirked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "You should be careful around here, Stepmother," he murmured, his voice dripping with dark amusement.
Then, just like that, he let me go, grabbing his blazer before striding out without another word.
I slid to the floor, my legs giving out beneath me.
What the hell just happened?
***
I didn't go downstairs for the party. Instead, I locked myself in my room, waiting. Waiting for Gen to storm in with her revenge. Waiting for Evander to finally snap my head off for what I'd done. Cheating on him should have made me feel something. Guilt, maybe. Fear. But I felt nothing.
No, that wasn't true.
What I felt was something worse—a twisted, clawing need to experience again what he had made me feel. My mind kept replaying it: his dark eyes locked on mine, his hands sliding up my thighs, his mouth claiming me like I was something worth possessing.
Maybe sex wasn't everything. But it wasn't nothing, either.
I loved the way he listened. Rally listened, like every word I said mattered. The way he studied me, like he was memorizing me. The way his actions always seemed tailored to what I needed, even when he pretended not to care.
Was it just trauma bonding? Probably.
Did that stop me from wanting to see him again? No.
Maybe we could be friends. Keep the sex separate.
What the hell am I even saying?
I groaned into my pillow, pressing my face deeper into the fabric like it could smother my thoughts. The bell rang then, sharp and commanding—breakfast. If I didn't go down, they'd come up here. And if they came up here…
Maybe that was the point. Maybe they were saving my execution for this morning.
Strangely, the thought didn't scare me. I was so tired of living like this: trapped, suffocated, never allowed to want anything. At least this way, I'd die with one good memory. One moment where I hadn't been afraid.
I dragged myself up, brushing my teeth and splashing cold water on my face before heading downstairs.
The dining hall was already full when I arrived. My co-wives sat at the massive table, their usual assembly of polished silverware and venomous glances. I didn't know why I even bothered sitting with them. Every meal was the same: tense, suffocating, with at least three pairs of eyes tracking my every move like I'd stolen something precious.
The irony was almost funny.
I didn't have Evander's affection. None of us did. The only thing I had was his last name, same as the rest of them.
His daughters and concubines sat at their own table, laughing softly among themselves. Evander didn't have an heir—not a real one, anyway. Just the adoptive son.
The one I'd had between my legs last night.
My feet froze the second I spotted him.
There he was, seated right beside Evander like nothing had happened. My mouth went dry. For a wild second, I considered turning around and bolting back upstairs. I could starve for the rest of the day. It wouldn't be the first time.
But running would only delay the inevitable.
He looked unfairly good, impeccably dressed in a black t-shirt and sweatpants, mirroring Evander's casual but calculated style.
At fifty-eight, Evander carried himself like a man who'd never stopped training, his broad shoulders and sharp jawline defying his age. His hair was mostly silver now, but it only made him look more distinguished.
If he weren't so cruel, maybe I could've wanted him but he's nothing compared to his son, not even an inch.
"Catherine?" Luna Regina's voice cut through the room the second she spotted me hovering near the table.
Every head turned.
Scorn. Disgust. Barely concealed amusement.
I braced myself, but his gaze was the one that burned the hottest. He took a slow, deliberate bite of his food, chewing without breaking eye contact. Like he was savoring my discomfort.
"Good morning… Luna Regina," I managed, forcing the words out.
Her lips thinned. "You can't greet all of us?"
I swallowed. "I'm sorry." I dipped into a stiff bow. "Good morning, everyone."
A scoff came from the head of the table.
"Everyone?" Elizabeth, the third wife, sneered. "Theresa, when did we become everyone?" She asked, turning to the fourth.
Luna Regina's eyes narrowed. "You should learn some respect, Catherine. Go back to your room. No breakfast until you've remembered your manners." She flicked her fingers dismissively. "Leave the door open. I'll need you to help me with my dress this afternoon."
I didn't argue. Didn't even glance at Evander like I usually would, begging for some shred of intervention.
He didn't look up. Just kept eating, indifferent as always.
I turned to leave.
Then another voice cut through the room.
"Come back, Catherine."
Silence.
The women stiffened, a collective breath held.
My blood turned to ice.
Slowly, I turned, just in time to see Evander's head snap toward the speaker.
"Catherine," he repeated, his eyes locking onto mine. "Have a seat. Eat your breakfast." A pause. "I won't repeat myself."
This is it.
He was going to kill me.
He's technically digging my grave at this point and maybe, I was ready for it.
"What did you just say, Your Majesty? Luna Regina asked, her voice low and composed as she sat up straighter in her seat.
Your Majesty?The title rattled in my head. Isn't she the Luna and he's just Evander's son?
"I wasn't talking to you." His reply was sharp and dismissive, aimed at her like a blade.
I stayed frozen in place, my muscles locked tight, until Evander cleared his throat. "Soren, let the women have their moment."
Soren… so that's his name. It echoed in my skull, lingering like an unwanted whisper. A filthy thought slithered in: how it would sound moaned, gasped, wrecked, and I shoved it down hard. He was temptation wrapped in power, the kind of lust that had no place in my life, not when I was nothing more than a bargaining chip, my fate haggled over like the damn weather forecast.
"You seem to have a preference for bullies. Can't say I'm surprised, Evander." Soren turned to the man who was supposed to be his father, his voice dripping with disdain. "Might want to learn how to tame them before they humiliate you further in public,"
Regina let out a nervous chuckle, her fingers tightening around her napkin. "Which is exactly why we're doing our best to tame her before she embarrasses us in public. You know how humans are, such vile, unruly creatures—"
"How about you tame yourselves first?" Soren cut in, his gaze slicing toward her. "Maybe if you set a better example, she'd actually follow."
Regina's mouth opened, but before she could spit out a retort, Evander hissed, "That's enough, Regina." His grip on his spoon turned white-knuckled, the metal bending slightly under the pressure. Then his eyes flicked to me, cold and commanding. "Catherine. Come. Have your breakfast."
For a second, I was sure my heart had stopped dead in my chest. The wives' glares burned into me, their hatred so thick I could almost feel claws digging into my skin, like they were just waiting for the chance to plunge a knife between my ribs.
I dragged my feet toward the table, my mind spinning. None of this made sense. My life was veering off course, twisting into something unrecognizable. And the worst part?
What if this wasn't freedom at all?
What if it was just another kind of darkness, dressed up in pretty lies?