Chapter 65 Who Is the Father?
Aelira’s POV
“Are you also expecting?”
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Cyrinne’s pointed question reverberates through the obstetrics and
gynecology waiting area, capturing the immediate attention of everyone
present. My heart pounds against my ribcage as I feel the weight of
countless eyes fixated on our unfolding situation. Expectant mothers,
nurses, and doctors all halt to witness our little spectacle.
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Alarion’s hand lunges forward, gripping my wrist with a force that startles
- me. His amber gaze locks onto mine with an intensity that feels
penetrating. The pressure of his fingers sends a sharp pain radiating
through my arm.
“Is this true?” he questions, his voice low but edged. “Are you carrying my
pup?”
The ownership in his tone sends an uncomfortable shiver down my spine. I
attempt to break free, but his Alpha strength keeps me anchored. His
scent shifts, a blend of fury and perhaps something else–hope?
“Release her!” Oriana barks, stepping between us with fierce
protectiveness radiating from her. “How dare you handle her like that? You
forfeited that right when you decided on Cyrinne!”
Oriana continues, her anger now directed at Cyrinne. “This is rich coming from you. You’re already expecting, and Alarion isn’t even officially your mate yet. Talk about being hypocritical! At least wait for the mate bond to be fully dissolved before flaunting your situation!”
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Cyrinne instinctively places a hand on her abdomen. Even with the charm she wears to neutralize her scent–a tool commonly used by pregnant she-
wolves seeking privacy–I can see the apprehension in her emerald eyes as she surveys the room full of interested onlookers. Her carefully crafted
facade wavers under the harsh light of scrutiny.
“I am Alarion’s intended,” Cyrinne hisses, though her voice lacks the
strength to convince. Her perfectly manicured fingers press into her palms
as she battles to maintain her composure.
“Aelira,” Alarion ignores Cyrinne’s words, his attention squarely on me. His
amber eyes glow with a fervor that once thrilled me for entirely different
reasons. “Why are you here at this clinic? I need an answer. Now.”
My wolf bristles beneath my skin at his commanding tone. Who does he think he is? The bond is nearly severed, yet he acts as though I am still his
possession.
“It’s either pregnancy or a silver–blood infection,” Cyrinne interjects, a malicious grin gracing her lips. “Those are the sole reasons a she–wolf comes to the obstetrics department. So which is it, Aelira? Did you sleep with another wolf before your mate bond was fully broken?”
Her suggestion that I might have silver–blood–a disease that affects werewolves who mate outside of their arranged partnerships–cuts sharply. The waiting room thrums with hushed whispers and disapproving
glances.
Fueled by pure rage, I manage to free my hand from Alarion’s grasp. The unexpected motion takes him aback.
“My medical matters are not your concern,” I retort, rubbing my wrist where
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angry red marks are beginning to appear. “And they certainly aren’t hers.”
Alarion silences Cyrinne with a low growl before she has a chance to respond. The deep sound resonates through the waiting room, causing several expectant she–wolves to instinctively shield their bellies.
“It’s too soon,” he states, his brow knitting together with concern. “We just filed for mate bond severance a few days ago. You’ve been taking those moonberry and silver pine treatments for years due to our fertility issues. The effects would still linger in your system.”
His words strike me like a physical blow. Instinctively, my hand moves to cradle my belly, shielding the fragile life that is developing within. How can he reference our private struggles so nonchalantly in such a public setting? Heat floods my cheeks as I realize that onlookers are now openly listening
- in.
Cyrinne’s expression brightens with a cruel delight. Her emerald eyes
sparkle with the satisfaction of a predator who has discovered a
vulnerability in its prey.
“Oh, that’s right,” she remarks, her tone laced with fake sympathy. “Three
years as mates and still no pups. Such a pity. All those treatments, all
those letdowns.”
With a deliberate motion, she places her hand on her own stomach, her
expression undeniably smug. “Some of us don’t face that problem. Maybe it’s not the Alpha who’s lacking.”
Oriana erupts beside me, her entire being tensed as she takes a menacing
step toward Cyrinne.
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“At least if Aelira has a pup, she knows who the father is!” she yells, her eyes blazing with fury. “How can you be certain it’s Alarion’s when everyone knows you never properly severed your bond with Beta Draven? Convenient how you got pregnant right when you needed to ensnare
Alarion!”
Cyrinne’s expression shifts from arrogant to enraged in a heartbeat. The color drains from her face, only to return in an angry rush. Her claws
partially extend–an obvious breach of public decorum–as she lunges
forward, a snarl escaping her lips.
“You bitch–I’ll rip your throat out!”
I grasp Oriana’s arm and wrench her backward with all the strength I can
muster, pulling her out of Cyrinne’s reach. My pregnant wolf cannot endure a physical clash.
“We’re leaving,” I state firmly, my voice steady even though my heart races.
“This isn’t worth it. They aren’t worth it.”
Alarion captures Cyrinne around the waist, restraining her from thrashing
about. Her claws swipe through the air just inches from where Oriana
stood moments ago.
“Calm down,” he commands, his Alpha authority causing the nearby
werewolves to avert their gazes in submission. “Not here! Control
yourself!”
I tug Oriana toward the elevator, my heart pounding against my chest. We
step inside just as the doors begin to close. The last thing I catch is
Cyrinne’s furious face and Alarion’s concerned expression as he struggles to maintain control over her. The doors shut as I hear Cyrinne’s wrathful
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< Chapter 65 Who Is the Father?
screeches resume.
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“What nerve that woman has!” Oriana seethes as we descend, pacing the small elevator space like a caged wolf. “Acting all high and mighty when she’s the one who took another she–wolf’s mate! And Alarion just lets her
make a scene!”
“It’s alright,” I reply, trying to soothe her even as my heart races. “What she thinks doesn’t matter. What either of them thinks doesn’t matter.”
Inside, I tremble. Oriana almost exposed my secret–that I am indeed pregnant with Alarion’s child. I silently pray that, in the heat of the moment, Alarion’s wolf hasn’t picked up the scent of truth in her words. The last thing I want is for him to claim my child before I am legally free from him.
“I’ll handle Cyrinne after the mate bond severance is completed,” I say, more to myself than to Oriana. My hand rests protectively over my belly. “Right now, my focus is on this little one.”
At this moment, I need to concentrate on ensuring my pup’s safety and reclaiming my freedom from Alarion. Everything else is secondary.
As we exit the hospital, two formidable wolves obstruct our path. They remain completely still, their dark suits straining against their muscular frames. Their commanding presence and vigilant stances clearly identify them as security–enforcer wolves trained to safeguard members of the
pack with high status.
“Ms. Sunmere?” the taller one inquires, his tone respectful but authoritative. “Our Alpha wishes to speak with you.”
Oriana steps forward, her protective instincts taking over as she directs
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her anger at these strangers. “And who is your Alpha? We’re not going
anywhere with unknown individuals.”
Her wolf stirs restlessly beneath her skin, prepared to defend me if a
confrontation arises. After the recent events with Cyrinne, she remains
vigilant.
Before either enforcer can respond, my attention is drawn to movement behind them. A third werewolf approaches, pushing a wheelchair along the smooth surface of the hospital driveway.
In the chair sits a slender man, his body marked by scars that peek out from beneath his tailored clothing. One leg appears immobile, and his left arm seems weaker than his right. Yet, despite his frail appearance, his
eyes radiate intelligence and authority that demand notice. There is
something faintly familiar about him, but I can’t recall where I might have
encountered him before.
“Hello, Luna Sunmere,” he greets me, his voice surprisingly robust for
someone so fragile. “I apologize for this unusual introduction. I am Draven
Cook.”
A rush of recognition floods over me. Draven Cook–Cyrinne’s former mate.
The wolf was supposedly injured while saving Alarion during a territorial
conflict. The reason Alarion feels indebted to Cyrinne is.
I lean towards Oriana and whisper in a voice barely audible to anyone else, “It’s Cyrinne’s ex–mate. The one they said was on the brink of death.”
Oriana’s eyes widen in astonishment, her wolf instantly alert. She gazes at him with open surprise. He looks unwell, sure, but not nearly as close to death as Cyrinne had always claimed.
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“What is it that you want from me?” I address Draven directly, striving to keep my tone steady. My pregnant wolf urges me to tread carefully.
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My wolf assesses the injured werewolf before me with caution. He doesn’t appear menacing, yet I know appearances can be deceptive. After all, Cyrinne had convinced everyone that he was essentially on his deathbed.
Draven’s smile is cryptic. His striking blue eyes, which stand in contrast to his pallor, conceal secrets I can’t begin to fathom.
“I thought it was time for us to meet. After all, you remain the Luna of the Thunder Pack,” he states, his gaze momentarily flicking to my midsection
before returning to my face.
He then reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out an envelope, clearly
experiencing some discomfort in the process as he tries to conceal it.
“This might communicate my intentions more effectively than words,” he
says, holding it out towards me with his stronger arm.
I pause before accepting it, uncertain of what I might find inside.
“Take a closer look,” he urges. “I believe you’ll discover some illuminating
answers.”
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