Rejected Luna Queen

Nesta’s POV

The day drags on with agonising slowness, each minute feeling like an hour as I sit in my room, barely able to focus on anything else.

My mind races with thoughts of what I’ve demanded of Nesta, the tumult of emotions swirling within me–anger, desire, frustration, and a nagging sense of something I can’t quite name

As the afternoon fades into evening, my anxiety mounts. I pace back and forth, the rhythmic sound of my footsteps doing little to calm my nerves. This is the part of me that no one ever sees.

I glance out the window every few minutes, watching the sky slowly darken, the sun dipping below the horizon and casting long shadows across the grounds.

Finally, the sky is a deep indigo, stars beginning to twinkle faintly. It’s time. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what’s to come. This is the time I have been waiting for, there is no backing out.

I step out of my room and find a maid passing by. She looks up, startled, but quickly composes herself.

“Go get Nesta for me,” I say, my voice firm and unyielding. “Tell her it’s time.”

The maid nods, not daring to question me. She hurries away, her footsteps echoing down the hall. I return to my room, trying to keep my composure. This is not the first time I have slept with her. fuck.

I’ve already told Nesta what to expect, that tonight would be the beginning of her new role. Now, all I can do is wait. Because she is going to fucking come to keep her boyfriend safe.

Minutes pass like hours. I sit down, stand up, and sit down again, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts.

What if she refuses again? What if she tries to fight me? My fists clench at the thought. She wouldn’t dare, not after my threat.

Finally, there’s a soft knock on the door. I swallow hard, trying to quell the nervous energy buzzing through me.

“Come in,” I call out, my voice betraying none of the turmoil inside me.

The door opens slowly, and Nesta steps inside, her expression a mixture of defiance and resignation. She meets my eyes, and for a moment, I see a flicker of something–fear, anger, perhaps both.

“Close the door,” I say, my voice low.

She complies, her movements deliberate and controlled. The room feels charged with tension, the air heavy with unspoken words. I stand there, watching her, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Hope you remember why you’re here,” I say, more to break the silence than anything else. “You know what’s expected of you.”

She nods slowly, her eyes never leaving mine. There’s a challenge in her gaze, a spark that tells me she’s not entirely broken. But she doesn’t say a word.

“Good,” I say, my voice hardening. “Let’s get this over with.”

walk towards her, the space between us closing with each step. As I reach out to touch her, a wave of conflicting emotions crashes over me. I push them aside, focusing on the task at hand. This is what needs to be done. This is what I need from her.

And she has no choice but to comply.

Finally, Lnoticed her outfit. It’s far from provocative, a clear mockery of my demand. She wears a simple, loose–fitting dress that hides her figure rather than accentuating it. The dress is plain, with no embellishments, and falls to her ankles.

It’s a stark contrast to the woman I remember, who used to wear clothes that subtly highlighted her features. She doesn’t dress up, just wears anything she was given to wear.

But even this modest dress can’t completely hide the changes in her. She’s filled out since I last saw her, and I know it’s because of the pregnancy–because of Luca. Anger bubbles within me at the thought.

Her breasts have filled out, no longer just the delicate curves they once were but now full and prominent. Her hips have flared too, giving her a more mature, womanly shape. Her hair, which was always beautiful, now seems even more alive- shiny, long, and vibrant.

She had already started to blossom before she left the palace months ago, but being in the Crescent Moon Pack has done wonders for her.

She stands there, watching me with those defiant eyes, and I can’t help but feel a surge of possessive anger. The fact that she makes me feel emotions I don’t know how to name…

The changes in her body are not because of me, and that fact infuriates me. I step closer, my gaze roaming over her, taking in every detail of her transformation.

“You’ve changed,” I say, my voice laced with anger and something else–something I refuse to acknowledge.

Her eyes narrow slightly, but she says nothing. I can see the challenge in her eyes, the refusal to break under my scrutiny. It only makes me angrier, the fact that she’s still standing tall, still fighting.

“You think this is a joke?” I ask, gesturing to her outfit. “You think you can mock me?”

She doesn’t respond, just stands there, her silence a testament to her defiance. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand the way she looks at me, the way she silently challenges me, the way her body has changed because of someone else.

I step even closer, invading her personal space, my anger barely contained. “You’re going to regret this,” I hissed, my voice low and dangerous. “You’ll learn to be useful in this kingdom. And you’ll start by being my mistress. Whether you like it or not.”

Her eyes flash with anger, but she still doesn’t say a word. It’s infuriating, maddening. I reach out, my hand gripping her arm, pulling her closer.

I can feel the heat of her body, the slight swell of her belly between us, and it only fuels my rage. But also made my cock hard to the point of pain.

“Do you understand?” I demand, my voice barely above a whisper.

Finally, she speaks, her voice steady but filled with anger. “No. I will not.”

The defiance in her tone, the unwavering resolve, only makes me tighten my grip. “If you don’t, your baby and Luca will pay the price. We have already established that, haven’t we?” I threaten, my words dripping with malice.

Her eyes widen, shock and fury mingling in their depths. But I don’t care. She needs to understand that she has no choice. She will be mine, and I will not tolerate any defiance.