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Month after month, my need for magic grew to be able to survive in her womb, to the point that Father had to pull some strings to get the strongest witch family in NYC to aid in my delivery. The end result left my mother absent from any hints of magic, which made her like any other female submissive wolf.
That was what left her as an imprisoned concubine, chained to the dungeons for years after while he continued to try to spark another baby in her. Even if there was a possibility of my mother getting pregnant a second time, it would be with a fifty percent chance of the child being a male, and there was no way they would be of Alpha quality.
Due to the low chance of having a sibling that would be worthy enough to carry the De Luca name, Father was forced to 'suck it up' and keep me.
Thus, the reason why I got the benefit of having Viktor around.
As I silently approached, his closed eyes opened slightly, those striking silver orbs side-glancing my way. Viktor wasn't the smiling type, his facial expression hard as rock while he normally carried that look that told you to be on your best behavior or you're fucked.
Everyone thought he was scary as hell, and a few questioned how I was so down to earth with him, but to me, he was Viktor, the man who made sure no one bothered me when I wasn’t paying attention.
He was a far better adult figure than my father ever could be –and let’s not mention my teenage crush on the man who was probably older than my father -and his hard exterior didn't hide the kindness he carried in his heart.
A heart that has been bruised, cut, and left wounded in the battle of domination.
Viktor didn't date or deal with commitment. His loyalty was towards the De Lucas, which means his service was absolute for as long as he lived. Supernaturals like us didn't live until a hundred and die of old age like humans.
We could live for hundreds of years, if not thousands depending on what specific breed we were. Wolf shifters didn't have that much longevity in them. Our lifestyles were far too rough to outlive a vampire who stayed in their haunted castle in the dark, getting blood packet deliveries.
It was in our nature to be rough. To play by the rules of instinct and feed off of the urges to fight and control. I learned that by watching my father's wolf empire and the packs associated with him.
The experience was something a human like me would never enjoy.
Viktor and a few other loyal associates of Father believed I had some sort of disorder. Wolf Chained was the simplistic term given to a wolf who still hadn't shifted after twenty.
Essentially, it was a diagnosis that occurred in zero-point five percent of wolf shifters of hybrid parents. In my specific case, it was believed that I'd absorbed so much magic from my mother that it chained my wolf, keeping it from its dominant nature.
It was determined by a Seer before my birth that I'd be a Wolf Alpha like my father, but alas, the magic fucked that all up and left me as a handicapped human with some magic tricks that weren’t even cool enough to help me enter a witch coven.
A misfit that didn't belong.
Since I was a De Luca, I wasn't even allowed to join in the wolf misfit community. Those were for wolf shifters with strange abilities that didn't want to have a bond with a Wolf Alpha but were willing to serve a leader of their choice.
In this case, my dad.
I, Willow De Luca, only daughter of Roberto De Luca, was an anomaly. A female human with magic.
I might as well have been marked Forbidden. Right. Missing the wolf factor.
Forbidden wolves were wolf shifters with fucked-up circumstances. Viktor would be considered a Forbidden wolf because of his past and allegiance to our family without an Alpha bond claiming him, forcing him into submission.
The Forbidden included hybrids like me, mishap experiments that humans and others of our kind had done on wolves that failed, and anyone who had any sort of disability such as blindness, deafness, or missing limbs.
It made me feel as though we fought harder to be a more superior race than the fae, who were actually creatures of perfection, but they lived on an entirely different supernatural plane from our world. No one dared venture into that section of the paranormal world for their own good.
Don't mess with a fae. That's all you need to know.
Viktor's eyebrow arched just slightly, which told me he wasn't too fond of the new set of bruises all over my body. It could have been the large gash on my thigh. But I'd been ignoring the stinging pain this whole while.
"Don't ask," I spoke when I reached the door he'd been leaning up against. He moved from the wall to stand at his full height, towering over my 5'5" frame. Just another one of those cursed attributes I had to take from my mother, especially in comparison to my father's 6'0" height, which was deemed short when you're the mafia boss.
Isn't that some sort of trend? Or was that in regard to short men having massive tempers?
"Your father isn't going to be impressed if he sees a scar," he acknowledged.
"He won't be seeing my bare thighs," I commented.
"That's what you said last time, until he randomly showed up at your penthouse." His reminder made me scowl in dissatisfaction.
