Chapter 1

My pup is coming early, and my mate won't answer my mind-link.

I hold my belly and stumble out of the house, waving down the first pack rider on the border road.

He wipes the sweat off his brow.

"The main Healing Den's too far. Let me drop you at the midwife's cottage instead."

Another contraction tears through me. I shake my head, teeth clenched.

"My whole family's at the main Den. I'll feel safer there."

But I labor on the birthing mat for ten hours before Thane Blackwood, my mate, finally walks in.

"Willa's gone into labor too. I have to handle hers. An apprentice will take care of you."

Willa Vane. The rogue orphan my parents took in when we were kids.

I claw at his fingers with what strength I have left.

"Thane. I'm your mate."

He slides his hand out of mine without so much as a blink.

"That's exactly why. If I deliver you, the whole Den will say I played favorites."

Something inside me splinters.

The labor pain is one thing. But through the mate bond, another kind of pain hits, sharper, uglier. My wolf howls somewhere deep in my chest, and I can barely tell which is worse anymore, the contractions or him.

I try to block his way. My legs won't hold me but I don't care.

Then my parents walk in and pin me down.

"Selene. Listen to me. That pup Willa's carrying, it's Thane's."

"He's been holding it in your whole pregnancy just to spare your feelings. Be kind, for once. Let him bring his own pup into the world."

I stare up at the wooden rafters above the mat.

There's a ringing in my ears.

When they finally lay the tiny wet bundle in my arms, my voice barely comes out.

"Pup. You're staying with Mama, okay?"

...

I walk out of the birthing room.

No wildflowers on the door. No comfort. No one waiting.

Only a mind-link, humming weak and thin.

Selene, so no one accuses us of favoritism, your dad and I are staying up here. — Mom.

A cluster of apprentice Healers passes by, whispering.

"Head Healer Ashford's adopted girl had her pup today. Told the whole Den to spoil her rotten."

"She even had a whole basket of moon-lilies sent up."

"Not blood, but tighter than blood. Isn't that sweet?"

I close my eyes.

This hurts worse than the labor did.

Every recovery room in the Den is taken.

The head matron spots me and mind-links Thane herself.

"Healer Blackwood, don't worry, I'll get your mate a room of her own."

His voice comes back cold enough to freeze the link.

"Follow the rules. No special treatment. Why should she rest easy while everyone else makes do?"

I almost died bringing his pup into this world.

And he kicks me aside like a scrap of rogue meat.

I press my face against my pup's warm cheek, feel the soft baby-fur that hasn't come in yet, and the tears just keep coming.

After a lot of arguing, they lay a straw pallet on the floor of the Healing Den's back corridor and leave me on it. Cold air pours in every time someone shifts out through the outer door.

Thane strides past.

My pup starts to cry. Weak. Hungry.

His steps hitch. He doesn't stop.

His apprentices trail behind, chatting.

"Healer Blackwood's rushing back to his lady, I bet."

"She's up in the Luna's Chamber, right? Heard he asked the Alpha himself to open that room for her."

I'm curled up in a freezing corridor with a newborn on my chest.

So who's the lady they're talking about?

Willa?

For her, cold, proud Thane actually begged.

Fresh blood seeps down my thighs. A sharp cramp knifes through my belly.

I don't let myself follow the thought.

My pup's face is blotchy red from crying.

And I've got nothing to feed her.

I beg a passing Healer to bring me some bone broth and milk-herbs so my milk will come in.

I wait. And wait.

She comes back with a few strips of dry jerky.

She won't quite look at me.

"Healer Blackwood said every birthing she-wolf gets the same. Told me not to make an exception for you."

I take it without a word.

A few minutes later, Willa's voice slides into the pack link, warm and honey-sweet. She knows I'm on it.

My mate laid out a whole feast for me. Made me swear to finish every bite. I'm gonna get so happy-plump~

She sends the scent with it. Fresh venison. Bone marrow. Warm honey-milk. All prepared by the Pack's finest kitchen Omega.

Her pup sleeps in a carved cradle lined with fresh lambswool, cheeks pink and warm.

My pup lies in a yellowed old swaddle someone dug out of a storage chest, her tiny face turning a dark, awful purple.

So the whole "keeping it clean" act was only ever pointed at me.

They can starve me. They can shame me. Fine.

But now my pup pays the same price.

This home. I don't want to stay in it anymore.