Summary
Trapped in a life of servitude, Andronika yearns for a destiny beyond gutting fish. A chance encounter with the enigmatic Tristan ignites a spark within her, but as shadows deepen, a web of deceit unravels. Betrayal, manipulation, and a ruthless Alpha Orion threaten to consume her. Forced to become a warlock princess and a lycan.Andronika fights for survival and honor. Bound to an Alpha she despises, she navigates a treacherous court, her heart torn between duty and desire. As she delves into the mysteries of her birth, a shocking truth emerges: she is not merely a pawn in a deadly game, but a force to be reckoned with. With every step, Andronika confronts her destiny, a path forged in blood and sacrifice. Betrayal, love, and the weight of a prophecy push her to the brink as Love and loyalty clash in a desperate struggle for freedom. Can she break free from the chains of fate and forge her own destiny? or will she be consumed by the darkness that surrounds her?
MEET ANDRONIKA
To make sure I would be a wonderful wife to my mate, my mother imparted numerous skills to me. How to cook and keep the home.
She would have been better off guiding me in the restraint required not to stab the said mate when he proved himself a short-witted drunkard with an acid tongue.
My temper was under extreme testing today. "What are you doing? Carspey asked, bending over my shoulder and his breath stinging mead. It's just exactly what it looks like. Running the tip of my knife down the belly of the fish, its intestine spilled outward. “Cleaning the catch.” Huffing out an angry breath, Carspey yanked the knife from my fingers, nearly slicing open my palm. Snatching up another fish, he opened its belly and scooped out the intestine into a gory mound before driving the point of my knife into the wooden table, his technique the same as mine. “You see?” “I know how to gut a fish,” I hissed between my teeth, every part of me desiring to gut him. “I’ve gutted thousands of fish.” “I don’t like the way you do it.” His lip twisted.
“The way you are doing it is wrong. Pack members complain.” That was true, but it wasn’t complaints about fish. My lovely mate was a child of the gods, having the moon goddess gifted him a drop of Njord blood at his conception, which gave him immense power over the creatures of the sea. Instead of utilizing it to care for our pack, he used it to deny other pack fishermen of any catch even as he filled his nets. Then he charged double what the fish were worth of the very people whose nets he kept empty.
Everyone knew it. But no one dared breathe a word against him. He was Carspey the Savior, the man who’d delivered the Moonlit shadow pack from famine ten years ago, pulling in fish from the North Sea to fill tummies, ensuring no one went without. A hero, everyone had called him.
And maybe once that was so, but fame and avarice had overcome the kindness that had given him the title, and now the whole pack spat at his name even as they honored him with an annual feast.
That no one had put a knife in his back was largely because he had Alpha Orion's protection. The ruthless Alpha that takes over our pack after invading us and killing our Alpha and his mate.
My mother constantly warned me when I complained. “You would do best to remember that he brings wealth to your home.” Wealth. It was the reason my father married me off to him despite all my protests. Yet instead of living to witness his mistakes.
My father had died on my wedding night, leaving everyone to mumble about bad omens and ill-fated unions. If it had been a message from the moon goddess, they need not have bothered. I’d known from the minute Carspey had shoved his filthy tongue in my mouth in front of all the guests that this marriage would be a curse.
Except it was hard to complain against him for Carspey was generous to my mother, paying for all her necessities while my brother won his position in the battle band of Alpha Orion. For my family, I will do this, I silently muttered, much as I did the night I’d been wed. For my family, I will endure him. Aloud, I declared, “I will do better.”
And because he didn’t look satisfied, I spoke loudly, “I will do it your way, Carspey “Show me.” The condescension drove my teeth to clench so tightly they nearly broke, but I obliged, rapidly gutting another fish. Carspey snorted, then spat on the ground next to me. “My mother was right. The moon goddess should’ve mated me to an ugly woman whose worth was in her skill. Not a pretty one whose only competence is her beauty. Looks don't gut fish. Looks do not cook food. Looks do not make child.” As far as the last went, my looks never would. I spent practically all the wealth he gave me purchasing lemon juice from the traders who came to us from the Nightshade Howlers pack, and if Carspey had ever wondered why his cock smelt of citrus after we coupled, he’d never asked. “A year, woman. A whole year of marriage and service yet no son.”
I bent over the board, gutting another fish to hide the tears threatening to fall. I’d never subject a child to this man. Never. “I’ll make an offering.” Which was no lie—at the beginning of every cycle I made a sacrifice to the goddess I was named after, imploring her to keep my womb empty. So far, she’d been merciful. Either that, or I’d been lucky.
As if hearing my thoughts, Carspey seized my braid, yanking me to my feet. “I don’t want offerings, Andronika,” he hissed. “I want you to try harder. I want you to do things appropriately. I want you to give me what I want.” My scalp hurt, just the tightness of my braid preventing him from yanking out a fistful of hair, and my rage snapped. “Perhaps it is you who is doing it wrongly, mate. His knife pressed on my cheek, his breath sour as he said, “Maybe the key is to make you less pretty, Andronika. Then you will have to master new skills.” The steel was cold and nasty. It stripped away my triumph and replaced it with worry. Yet…I couldn’t concede. Couldn’t allow myself to break, cry, or beg, since that was what he wanted: lowering me. Instead, I met his gaze and whispered, “Do it. Do it, Carspey, and then go to the village and see if they’ll still hold your feast and acclaim you a hero when they find you sliced your wife’s face to despise her beauty.” His lip twisted. “They need me.” “That doesn’t mean they need to honor you.” And a narcissist like him craved that honor. I saw the wheels of his thoughts work; no doubt he was wondering how much he could injure me without consequence. But I refused to look away despite the cold sweat that slicked my palms. The blade pressed harder on my cheek, searing, and I pulled in a deep breath to calm my increasing panic. He heard it. Carspey grinned, my brief show of vulnerability gratifying him. He released my hair, lowering his knife. “Get back to work, you spinless worm. When you’re finished, take two fish to your mother. Perhaps she’ll remind you of your duty. It is her responsibility and your father’s”—he spat—“that you don’t know them.” “Do not speak ill of my father!” I grabbed my knife, but Carspey merely sneered at it.
“There is the proof,” he remarked. “He forgot you were a daughter and taught you like your brother. Now instead of a mate, I have a grown lady who plays at being a warrior like a young child, brandishing her stick and imagining every tree her foe.” Heat burned up my chest, turning my cheeks to infernos because he was not wrong. “Perhaps I’ve been complicit,” he added. “I’ve allowed you too much idle time, which the gods know is the ruination of good character.” The only idle time I was permitted was the hours I slept, but I said nothing. Carspey turned away from me, heading right to the water’s edge, the sea shimmering in the sunshine. Lifting his hand, he invoked Njord name. For a long moment, nothing occurred, and I muttered a silent prayer that the god of the sea had finally recognized what a piece of trash his child was and taken away his magic. Wasted prayers, for a heartbeat later the water quivered. And the fish began jumping.
Only a few at first, but suddenly dozens and dozens were launching themselves out of the water and onto the beach until I could not see the rocks through the seething mass of fins and scales.
“This should keep you busy,” Carspey smirked. “Give your mother my love.”
My bleeding blade quivered in barely contained water as he turned and walked away. I watched the fish writhing about on the shore, anxious to return to the ocean.
Such a waste, for there were more here than we could sell before they spoil. And it was not the first time he’d done such a thing. I’d once watched him beach a whale, but instead of terminating the animal’s life immediately, he’d allowed it to work its way back into the ocean, only to use his magic to bring it out again.
Pulling up my skirts, I hurried to where the fish flopped, snatching up one of them and throwing it into the water. Moving along the waterline, I returned Carspey ’s bounty to the sea, my stomach twisting whenever I spotted a fish that had succumbed, each death my own personal failure. But there were so many. Finding a fish still alive where it had hurled itself into some undergrowth, I grabbed it up and chucked it over my shoulder and threw it into the sea.