Rejected By The Alpha, Carrying His Secret Pup

Aurelia POV

Marcus’s clammy hand slid higher up my thigh. His foul breath fanned across my neck as he leaned in, attempting to scent me—a vile, deeply possessive violation in our world.

Panic clawed at my throat. I jerked back violently, my elbow colliding with my wine glass. The crystal shattered, sending a wave of crimson liquid splashing directly onto Marcus’s expensive suit.

Marcus’s eyes flashed a feral, predatory gold. A low growl ripped from his throat as his thick fingers clamped around my arm, his claws pricking my skin.

Before I could even gasp, the air in the private suite vanished.

A suffocating, pure Lycan aura slammed into the room, dropping the temperature to freezing. Marcus froze, the blood draining from his face. Graves didn't say a single word. He moved with lethal, blinding speed. His massive hand clamped onto my waist, ripping me from Marcus’s grip and slamming me against his own chest.

The scent of an impending storm and rich leather wrapped around me, now laced with a terrifying, bloodthirsty rage.

"Touch what is mine again, and I will tear your throat out," Graves commanded. The Alpha's Command echoed off the walls, an invisible force that drove Marcus to his knees.

Marcus trembled, stammering desperate apologies, begging for the sake of their alliance. Graves’s eyes were pitch black, his Inner Wolf completely in control. His voice, cold and absolute, resonated through the Mind-Link, loud enough for every wolf in the territory to hear:

*From this day forward, the Crimson Fang Pack is an enemy of the Black Moon. Any trade, any alliance, is hereby terminated. They are prey.*

Graves stepped forward, his heavy boot coming down directly on Marcus’s hand. The sickening *crack* of shattering bones filled the room. Graves didn't even blink at the agonizing screams. He pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his hands, and dragged me out the door.

I was trembling uncontrollably. My Mate had saved me, but the brutal, possessive way he held me made it terrifyingly clear: I wasn't his beloved Luna. I was merely his property.

Back in the suffocating silence of the Luna's Chambers, I sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping my arms around my stomach. An older maid—one who used to serve Elder Cecelia—entered, carrying a steaming bowl of dark herbal tonic.

"The Alpha ordered this for you," she murmured.

I went to push it away, terrified of consuming anything unknown in my condition, but she leaned in close. "Luna, the Doctor added Moonpetal root. It's an old blessing from the Goddess, to strengthen the womb for a strong heir."

My breath hitched. I stared at the dark liquid, my heart pounding against my ribs. Did Graves know? Was this brutal, terrifying man actually trying to protect our unborn child? A foolish, dangerous spark of hope ignited in my chest, confusing everything I thought I knew about his cruelty.

When the maid left, I walked over to my bag. Driven by that fragile glimmer of hope, I pulled out the crumpled, rain-smudged pregnancy report from the human hospital. My fingers trembled as I stared at the faint black ink. Should I tell him? Would this baby fix our broken bond?

"What is that?"

I spun around. Graves stood in the doorway, a silent phantom. His nostrils flared, his Alpha senses instantly locking onto my racing heart and the sudden spike of panic in my scent.

I shoved the paper behind my back. "Nothing."

His jaw clenched. In two massive strides, he crossed the room. His sheer presence paralyzed me. Before I could even flinch, his large hand wrapped around my wrist, effortlessly overpowering my wolfless strength, and he snatched the paper from my grasp.

He unfolded the damp document. Silence stretched, thick and suffocating, as his dark eyes scanned the blurred lines. His face remained an unreadable mask of stone, but the air around him began to crackle with a dark, lethal energy.