CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 2
There isn't a shifter woman alive who wouldn't want to scale the oldest Dragunov bloodline like a mountain. Except me, that is—and my disdain began only when I grasped what horrors lie beneath their silvery lips and flaxen locks.

"We need to test whether you are fertile," says Viktor.

My eyes are wide. "Like hell you will." I step back, going further onto the Moon Balcony until my fingers grip the balusters. "You aren't going to touch me."

"Assure yourself, my pretty," Viktor soothes. "Irina Volkovna merely wishes to gaze at your palm.".

"You're not touching me!" I scream, and Irina Volkovna snaps her fingers. A vice closes around my throat, restricting breathing to a mere fraction of air. I grab my bare neck, scratching and clawing at something that isn't there.

Blots undulate in front of my eyes, lungs burning, until finally she snaps again, and I collapse to the floor, gasping.

"Try not to kill her," Viktor says with a dry voice. "We do need an heir."

"Oh, certainly." The witch ducks her head. She then stoops and grabs my wrist in one of her clawed hands and pulls me back into my room. Stopping just outside my bed, her face contorts—nose elongating into a long, black beak. Eyes that had been nearly silver are now completely black, pupils erasing all the color. That's what black magic does to you. It rearranges your very DNA, changing you into a monster.

At least so, she's as ugly on the outside as inside she's wicked.

She cranes her head to one side and glares at me, then at my hand. I try to withdraw it, but Viktor is there, his hands clamped across my shoulders holding me down as she prods at my palm with her pointed beak.

I clench my teeth to stop myself from crying out, and I flinch instead of screaming. I will not give these bastards the satisfaction of seeing me cry. Blood wells up to the surface, and the witch's face reappears as she sucks a finger into my blood and licks it.

"This is good," she says, shoving me away. Viktor releases my shoulders, and I fall into a stand, cradling my now broken hand against my chest.

"Good? Is she fertile?"

"Yes, my Prince. She will bear child by the next full moon." I look at them in horror as the nasty, distorted future they've planned out for me takes a whole new turn. I'm no stranger to sex—not that I've had any. Which, unfortunately, is the exact reason that he wanted me.

I am a virgin—untouched by anyone but myself and BOB, my battery operated boyfriend. And since this will be my first fertility cycle, it will be stronger than any others. I’d saved myself for someone important, and ended up screwing myself over in the end.

What irony.

"Good. I'll see you tomorrow night, my bride." His bile rises in my throat, and he winks at me before I shrink away, eagerly awaiting the moment when I am alone again. The moment I am, I slump to the floor and cry, my broken sobs inaudible to anyone.

My room is illuminated, and I open my eyes, sure that I'm dreaming the change. Silver enters my room through the opened doors, illuminating each corner and nook of the room, and I stand up, shielding my eyes as I turn from the Moon Balcony. The light is beautiful—otherworldly—and calms my troubles as it fills me with hope.

The light beam glows one last time before it vanishes completely, leaving the radiant moon and twinkling stars behind. I turn away before I can even see it, yet my eyes pick up something glinting floating downwards towards me. Intrigued, I observe—enchanted by the magic as the moon glints off its surface.

It lies at my feet, so I bend down and scoop up what I now see as parchment from the ground. Standing, I run my fingers over the letters The Blood Moon Gala written on the front.

Wide-eyed, I continue to gaze down at the piece of paper as if it will magically acquire legs and stalk off across the floor. I have only ever heard of The Blood Moon Gala a few times in my entire life, and in my wildest dreams would I have imagined that I'd be so fortunate as to receive a much-coveted invitation.

Far beyond excited and doing my best to quiet a squeal, I flip the invitation over and examine the writing on the reverse side.

Just as the moon brought me to you…

My stomach lurches. Blood Moon Night. My wedding night. No bloody way in hell I'll be leaving my wedding. I'm trapped here in this limbo. What if it wasn't meant for me? I'm nobody.no one special. Perhaps this invite was meant for Viktor instead. I press the page to my chest.

The very thought of offering this to him is abhorrent. I take it away, studying it again. The Blood Moon Gala. Just like the moon brought me to you, so the moon will bring you to The Gala.

Magic must have put it there. Does that imply magic might be able to save me?