Abused Mate

Abused

She was born to shine… but they buried her in darkness.

The girl’s name was Liora Amethyst Willowind, and even after everything, she still looked like she’d stepped out of a forgotten prophecy.

Her hair—long, soft, and cascading like moonlight spun with lilac—held a rare color: silvery lavender, shifting gently between pearl and purple in the light. Her eyes, wide and deep-set, were violet with starburst flecks of silver around her pupils—eyes so rare they made people stare once… before looking away in jealousy or disgust.

Her skin, though pale now from malnutrition, had once been a radiant ivory kissed with a golden undertone—skin that had once glowed in sunlight like polished opal. But now it was bruised, dirt-streaked, and thin. Her lips, once full and petal-soft, were cracked and pale, bleeding slightly from dryness.

Her beauty had become a curse.

Today, she was on her knees, her bare fingers trembling as she scrubbed the Alpha’s floor without any tools. Her body ached all over—her back, her arms, her neck stiff from exhaustion. Her stomach had been empty for three days, and not a drop of water had touched her lips.

She was dizzy. Cold. Her vision blurred at the edges.

But she couldn’t stop.

She wasn’t allowed.

And as always, the hole in her right hip—a deep, open wound never treated, a punishment from long ago—burned every time she leaned forward. It had started to smell faintly, like something rotting, but she said nothing. Complaints only brought more pain.

The marble was cold beneath her knees. She could feel the bones pressing through her skin.

The Alpha’s girlfriend, Sylara, stood in the doorway like a queen admiring her favorite slave. Her icy blue eyes scanned the room before landing on Liora with a smirk.

“You call this clean?” Sylara sneered, stepping forward. She looked perfect, as always. Her dress shimmered with silk. Her hair was in flawless curls. “Redo it. Use your hands. I don’t want a single smudge left.”

Liora opened her mouth slightly. She wanted to say something… anything. Her throat moved but no sound came out.

“You deaf too now?” Sylara snapped, and with a cruel laugh, she tipped the bucket of water, spilling it all over Liora’s hair and the floor she had just cleaned.

The water was ice cold. Liora’s thin, ragged clothes clung to her skin.

“I said redo it,” Sylara hissed, stepping back like Liora’s presence disgusted her. “Maybe if you do a good job, you can lick the crumbs off my plate later.”

She left the room, slamming the door.

Liora stayed kneeling for a second, shaking. The pain in her hip made her body stiffen. The wound was getting worse—she could feel it. But if she told anyone, they’d laugh. Or beat her for “faking weakness.”

So she dipped her already-bleeding fingers into the icy puddle and began again.

No one would help her.

No one had since the day her parents died.

The day the Blood Fang Pack found her, dragged her from the forest, and threw her into their cold stone servant quarters.

She had been five years old. And even back then, her eyes had shimmered like starlight.

But now, at seventeen, Liora was a ghost in her own story. A forgotten girl in a world that hated her.

Yet despite it all, something in her refused to break.

There was power in her blood—power that was beginning to hum softly beneath her bruises. And one day soon…

They would all regret what they did to her.

Because the stars hadn’t forgotten her.

The Moon Goddess hadn’t either.

And neither had her mate