Chapter 40 CHAPTER 040
Third-Person POV
Harry gritted his teeth, and watched as Stone smirked, swinging too hard at him. The hilt of his sword slammed into Harry’s ribs, and he felt pain explode inside him. He doubled over, clutching his side.
"Look at him. An embarrassment." He heard his father say as he inched closer. "I thought I could never regret having a son, but you are an exception to that. I regret having you. You are nothing but a weakling!"
Harry’s wolf took over.
One second, he was gasping on the ground. The next, fur tore through his skin, bones snapping into new shapes. Fury burned through him as he lunged, but it was not at Stone. It was at his father.
Ethan didn’t flinch. He sidestepped, grabbed Harry by the scruff, and slammed him into the dirt. The impact knocked the air from his lungs. Laughter erupted around him. Even Stone’s chuckle reached his ears.
"Pathetic," Ethan spat, dusting off his sleeves. "Slow and emotional. You need to control yourself and know how to manage your instinct, or you’ll never be Beta."
Harry’s fingers dug into the armrests now, the phantom sting of humiliation crawling up his spine. He’d swallowed it then, like he always did.
But that particular night, during a Royal Ball night. He had dressed up in his finest tuxedo, preparing to ask her out. Sierra, beautiful and intelligent. She was the epitome of perfection. He couldn't wait to ask her out and have her by his side. If he could have one thing, Sierra would be the only thing he would wish to have.
But when he got to her house, he didn't find her in her room. He knew where she would be. The stable where she loved to tend to horses, or the barn where she stacked herbs for her mother. The barn door creaked under his hesitant push, but something stopped him. First, the scent hit him, then the sounds of ragged breathing, and skin slapping skin. Sierra’s gasps was high and breathless and Stone’s growl was possessive.
Harry froze in the doorway as he watched he way Sierra’s back arched off the hay bale, her fingers tangled in Stone’s hair as he drove into her with brutality. "Fuck—Stone—" she whimpered, her nails scoring his shoulders.
Neither of them even acknowledged his presence.
Stone’s hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head back. "Who owns that pussy?" he snarled before biting down on her shoulder.
Harry’s stomach lurched when Sierra cried out in response, "Yours!" He stumbled back, bile rising in his throat.
Harry’s eyes snapped open, his chest tight.
He barely had time to process his own thoughts before the door slammed open with enough force to rattle the frames on the wall. Sierra stood there, her usually perfectly made hair disheveled, and her lips painted a smudged crimson like she’d been biting them hard. Her chest heaved, and the look of fury rolled off her in angry waves.
"You look like hell," Harry remarked dryly, though his fingers tensed around the armrest.
Sierra didn’t bother with crude replies. "He kissed her," she spat, storming into the room while stomping her feet. "That wolfless rag. I walked in on him pinning her against the wall like some common whore." Her voice cracked on the last word, almost as if she didn't believe it as well.
Harry’s jaw clenched. Then the image of Ari’s thighs trembling under Stone’s grip flashed in his mind, her breathy moans muffled against her palm. He shoved the memory down. "And?"
"And he suspended me," Sierra hissed, pacing now, her heels clicking like gunshots. "For a week. I can't go to the palace. Not even to attend to him. All because I dared ask what the hell he was thinking." Her laugh was loud and humourless. "As if he ever thinks with his brain when it comes to women."
Harry exhaled through his nose, his fingers drumming against the whiskey-stained wood. He should’ve stayed silent. But the bitterness in Sierra’s voice was the same bitterness that had festered in him for years, and that twisted his tongue. "Maybe you should’ve taken the hint years ago," he muttered.
Sierra whirled on him, her eyes blazing fire. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." Harry stood, towering over her, but she didn’t back down. "Stone’s never wanted you for more than a warm hole. Yet here you are, still panting after him like a pup in heat."
Her palm hit his face unexpectedly, stinging like a bee. Harry didn’t flinch, though his cheek burned. Sierra’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her knuckles turning white. "You don’t get to say that!"
"What do you want me to do? Console you?" Harry cut in, his voice running low. "That’s what you came for, isn’t it? Poor Sierra, always second best. Well, newsflash, so am I." He stepped closer, crowding her space. "Remember the barn? Or how about every girl I ever looked at that he took just to prove he could?"
Sierra’s lips curled. "Oh, spare me the pity party. At least you got over it."
"Did I?" Harry’s laugh was hollow. "Or did I just learn to swallow it like everything else?"
Sierra’s expression shifted and in seconds, she was calculating. "Fine. Then help me fix this. That bitch needs to disappear."
Harry snorted. "And how do you propose we do that? Stone’s wolf would raze the kingdom if she so much as stubbed a toe."
Sierra’s gaze flickered, then hardened. "There’s one thing Stone’s never had," she murmured. "An heir."
Harry stilled. "You’re not serious."
Her smile was all teeth. "Why not? He’s refused every mate the goddess gave him. But if I’m carrying his child—"
"Stop." Harry grabbed her wrist, suddenly nauseous. "That’s suicide. Even if you managed to trap him, do you really think he’d let you live after?"
Sierra yanked her hands free, looking at him with fiery eyes. "Then what’s your brilliant plan, Beta? Wait until he puts a pup in her instead?"
Harry’s gut twisted. The thought of Ari swollen with Stone’s child shouldn’t have made his pulse spike. But it did.