Chapter 9 Abort that child

"Whose child is it?"

Bianca stared at him, unable to believe what she had just heard. She blinked once, she blinked twice, confusion clouding her features. She had never seen this expression on Mark's face before.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, completely dumbfounded.

Mark's eyes burned with fury as he took a step toward her. "You'll abort that child," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Bianca shook her head, trying to erase his words from her mind, desperately attempting to make sense of what he was saying. "You want me to abort our child? Mark, can you even hear yourself?" she cried out, voice rising with disbelief.

Before she could process another thought, his hand struck her hard across the face.

Staggering back, Bianca cupped her cheek in shock, her wide, tear-filled eyes staring at him. His wolf was at the surface now, close enough that she could feel the violent energy rolling off him, and it made her blood run cold.

"I said abort that child," Mark growled, his voice thick with rage. "And I meant it."

Tears welled up in her eyes and began to stream down her cheeks. Seeing her crumple, Mark pulled himself together and reached out, brushing the reddening spot he had struck.

"Hey... I'm sorry for hitting you," he muttered, his voice softer as he gently caressed her face.

Through broken sobs, Bianca tried to reason with him. "I thought... I thought you'd be happy. We're going to be three. You're going to have an heir," she said, voice shaking.

Mark let out a heavy sigh, running his hand through his hair. "I don't need an heir right now," he said coldly. "I want it to be just us for a while longer. I'm not ready for the responsibility of pregnancy and raising a child. I hope you'll understand."

His words felt final, like a steel wall shutting her out. But Bianca wasn't ready to give up. Clutching her stomach protectively, she pleaded, "Just this once, Mark. Please..."

He sighed again, his teeth clenched tightly. "Later, when I no longer find you attractive," he sneered, "don't you dare blame me."

With that cruel parting shot, he stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

Left alone, Bianca wrapped her arms around her stomach, tears blurring her vision. Her gaze drifted to the drawer Mark had hastily closed earlier. An uneasy feeling gnawed at her.

She moved toward it and pulled it open. Inside, tucked away almost carefully, was a photo. She lifted it out-and her heart twisted painfully.

It was Becca.

Though they were identical twins, Bianca could tell immediately that it wasn't her own face she was looking at-it was Becca's. Her dead sister.

"So even when she's dead, you still keep her picture close?" Bianca whispered bitterly, gripping the photo tighter. "You never loved her... it was me you loved, you bastard," she muttered under her breath.

In frustration, she smacked the desk with her hand, glaring once more at Becca's smiling face. "Even in death, sister," she hissed, "you still find a way to haunt me. You still find a way to prove you're better than me."

Angrily, she shoved the photo back into the drawer and wiped her tears away.

Meanwhile – Wrath Pack

"No! We agreed on three days per week!" Becca protested, struggling against Dean's grip as he dragged her into his room. She jerked her hand free and glared at him.

Dean cocked his head to the side, amusement flickering in his eyes. "What did you just say? Repeat it" he asked, feigning innocence.

"Three days a week!" she insisted firmly.

He nodded slowly, and a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. She felt a flash of victory-until he dropped the bomb on her.

"Good. It's three days, Becca. Not three times."

Her jaw dropped. "No! That's cheating!" she cried, scandalized.

He chuckled, clearly enjoying her flustered state. "How is it cheating? You agreed to it. Always be careful when making deals with me, little Luna," he said teasingly.

As he spoke, Dean started stripping off his clothes casually, completely unbothered.

Becca's face burned as she caught sight of his bare chest and taut muscles, her eyes betraying her as they raked over him before she quickly turned away, mortified.

"Why so shy?" Dean teased, a knowing glint in his eyes. "It's not like you didn't stare at my body all night long."

So he knew, she swallowed hard, her cheeks on fire. "This already makes it two days," she said in a small voice, trying to reason.

Dean gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Yes. And we'll keep going until I'm tired."

Panic made her step back-but it was too late. Dean had already stripped fully, standing naked before her, every inch of him hard and ready.

"Don't run from me," he warned, voice low and hungry. "If you do, I'll pounce. And I'm not exactly a patient man. Come here."

The lovemaking that followed was nothing like the previous night.

This time, Dean was slow. Tender. His touch was reverent as he kissed her lips softly, then trailed kisses across her face, her jawline, her neck.

Becca's breathing hitched as his lips moved lower, mapping her body with gentle kisses. When he reached her breasts, he paused, staring at her scars. She tensed, waiting for the disgust she had always seen in Mark's eyes.

But it never came.

Instead, Dean lowered his head and suckled her nipple gently, swirling his tongue around it until she arched her back, a soft moan escaping her lips.

He didn't rush. He spent long minutes worshipping her breasts, switching from one to the other, swirling, teasing, nibbling, until her skin was flushed and sensitive.

He gave her breasts so much attention that she hadn't even known a man could be so tender-at least not Mark. Mark had never liked seeing her scars; he would always say it was because they reminded him of the pain she had endured, never realizing that it was he and her sister who had caused that pain in the first place.

Dean seemed to sense her shift in mood, because he suddenly bit down lightly on her nipple, dragging her back to the present.

"Why'd you do that?" she gasped, half-shocked, half-dazed.

"You were thinking of something else," he murmured against her skin. "Focus only on me."

With that, he moved down between her legs.

The moment his warm, wet tongue licked her sensitive folds, Becca lost all coherent thought.

He sucked on her clit with slow, deliberate precision, coaxing broken moans from her lips. The sounds she made weren't soft anymore-they filled the room, raw and needy.

No matter how hard she tried to hold back, she couldn't resist him. Her body trembled violently when she finally reached her peak, collapsing against the bed in utter exhaustion.

When she opened her eyes, she found Dean staring up at her, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. But it wasn't just the smirk that caught her attention-it was his eyes.

They weren't grey anymore. They shimmered a deep, breathtaking sapphire blue. His wolf.

In the blink of an eye, he was on top of her again, nudging the head of his erection at her entrance. She opened her legs wider for him instinctively, but he paused halfway.

"What?" she asked breathlessly, confused.

"Do you want it hard or slow?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine.

Becca blinked at him, thrown off. No one had ever asked her what she wanted to do before.

She studied his face, saw the heat in his eyes, the tenderness mixed with desire.

And she knew what she wanted.

"Hard," she whispered.

That was all the encouragement he needed. Dean surged into her, claiming her completely, and sent her spiraling into oblivion once again.