ERIC'S POV
I swallowed the hot, bitter taste of rage and moved faster. The wolf trembled under my skin, I knew something was wrong but I didn't care. What was wrong was what had just happened and what may happen as a result of it.
There were guests in the foyer but I barely registered them. Rage narrowed my vision until the room became a tunnel with my mother at the end. She swept through the doorway. Her lips curved into a small, victorious smile.
"I swear to the goddess, Mum!" I thundered before I could tame the baritone that always made people straighten themselves a little. I didn't care who heard. Right now, this was about the immediate, unbearable violation.
"You should be thanking me," she said, the smile never leaving her face. My pulse thudded in my throat.
"Thanking you? Thanking you for what exactly? For trying to make another generation of the cursed shadow wolf? It's not going to happen even if I have to kill the child myself."
I saw the fear in my mother's face then.
"I know you," she said. "Even with your so-called cursed wolf, in your right senses, you wouldn't hurt your own child."
"Do you want to bet the child's life on that?" I growled, daring her to make the gamble. If she wanted to test me, to see which of us would bend first —then so be it.
There was the sound of a throat clearing behind me and I spun, every muscle primed, to find Mrs Thorne standing there, a girl at her side who couldn't have been more than twenty. The girl beside her was pretty enough, but to my mind her prettiness was the kind you fucked, not a seed for what I carried in my blood.
That she'd been brought here as a potential vessel for my line — for the shadow wolf — was an insult annealed into my bones.
"Is this her?" I stormed forward. "Were you the one in my bed?"
"Mr. Blackwood," Mrs. Thorne began.
"I wasn't speaking to you!" I lashed out. I turned back to the girl. "Was it you?" My wolf circled under my ribs in annoyance but I ignored him.
"Eric! You are frightening the girl," my mother snapped.
"I don't care. You did this!" I said, rage and hurt braided tight in my throat. "Why can you not respect my wishes?!"
"Why wouldn't I? What do you think will become of us? Huh? We do not have an alpha! Now, we are almost human because of that. If you end the Blackwood bloodline, then there is no hope whatsoever for all of us. We might as well just consider ourselves humans then." The fear in her voice was genuine.
"What's wrong with being human? Mum. I wish to the goddess I were human. I pray every day that the Moon goddess take my wolf away instead. Generations of bloodlust. How many more people will die?" I shouted.
I looked over my mum's shoulder to Benedict — our butler, the immovable presence who had been with the family longer than any of the staff. He was gray around the temples and unfazed by drama unless it threatened the estate's functioning. I gave the order with a coldness that surprised me even as it felt right.
"Take the girl and lock her in a room." Benedict inclined his head, the motion small and professional. As he approached the girl, I caught her eye for the briefest flicker — there was fear there.
"Aunt Viv!" the girl's voice cracked. She clutched at Mrs Thorne's sleeve as if it were a lifeline, eyes wide and glittering with tears. I didn't want the plague of pity to cloud my judgement.
"If there even is a sign of a pup inside of you, I will rip it out myself and offer it to the goddess."
"That's what I have been trying to tell you," Mrs Thorne said, stepping forward. "She wasn't in the room with you…someone else was posing as her. And locking her up is far too tiny a punishment."
"What?" my mother snapped. "What are you saying?" she demanded, sharper now.
"Your maid let an impersonator in Mr Blackwood's bed," Mrs Thorne said to my mother. I watched my mother's expression shift to the pale wash of recognition that she had been outplayed.
I turned disappointed eyes on my mother as if the look itself could accuse her: You did this. "Where is she?" I asked.
"The maid has her tied down somewhere in the house," Mrs Thorne answered with a small, ugly satisfaction, as if the containment had already been arranged in her mind.
"Benedict, find her and lock her up in the room opposite mine. She will not leave until we can confirm she isn't pregnant." I spoke with the kind of precision that comes from habit — a man used to issuing orders in the quiet of emergencies.
"Yes, Mr Blackwood." Benedict's voice was obedient. But before he could move, my mother's delicate fingers landed on his arm, her touch halting him. The gesture was gentle.
"Be careful with her," she said softly.
My head turned toward her, slowly. Be careful with her? "Be careful?" I repeated. "Did you think I was joking, Mother?"
Her eyes darted toward Mrs. Thorne. I felt my pulse pounding at my temples. "I need everyone to get out," I said. "Get out now."
Mrs. Thorne scoffed and lifted her chin. She gathered her trembling niece and strutted away. "I'll come see you and your father, sweetie," my mother called after her.
Of course. My mother, the eternal socialite. "What are you doing?" I asked, incredulous. "Cushioning the sting of not fucking your son's life up any further?"
"Eric?" Her voice was small, tentative. It stopped me mid-step.
"Not now, Mother."
"No, now." She stepped forward. Her hand came up to my face.
"My sweet boy," she murmured.
"Mum…" I exhaled. I hated how small I sounded.
Her eyes glistened. "Baby, I know you have a good heart," she said, thumb brushing my cheek. "You want to end the Shadow Wolf's madness. I know that."