Rejected Luna's New Realm

I woke to the suffocating heat pressing down on me like a physical weight. My skin was slick with sweat, my lungs struggling for air in the stifling servant quarters. The small window offered no relief, just a rectangle of pale dawn light that illuminated the peeling paint and worn floorboards of my prison.

A sharp pain lanced through my abdomen, and I gasped, curling around my swollen belly protectively. My baby. Our baby. The only good thing to come from this nightmare of a mate bond.

"Not now, little one," I whispered, stroking the taut skin where my pup grew. "Please hold on."

I tried to stand, but the room tilted violently. The pain came again, stronger this time, and I felt my knees buckle. The last thing I remembered was the sound of my body hitting the floor and the desperate cry that escaped my lips through our mate bond.

*Blake... help us.*

I drifted in and out of consciousness as unfamiliar arms carried me through the compound. Snippets of worried conversation floated around me.

"She's burning up..."

"...the heat in those quarters..."

"...pregnant with the Alpha's heir..."

The cool touch of Elara's hands on my forehead finally brought me back to full awareness. The pack healer's kind eyes were creased with worry as she helped me sip water from a metal cup.

"Mia," she said softly, "you're severely dehydrated, and your temperature is dangerously high. This isn't good for you or the pup."

Another cramp seized me, and I clutched at my belly, terror washing through me. "The baby?"

Elara's expression tightened. "Your body is showing early signs of miscarriage. The extreme heat triggered a fever that's putting stress on your pregnancy."

Tears blurred my vision. After everything I'd endured—the humiliation, the isolation, Blake's constant cruelty—losing our pup would break me completely.

"What can I do?" I whispered.

"You need to stay cool, hydrated, and rested." Elara hesitated, her eyes darting to the door. "Mia, you can't go back to those quarters. Not in this condition. The main pack house has air conditioning, proper ventilation..."

I knew what she was suggesting. I also knew how Blake would respond. But for our pup, I had to try.

Closing my eyes, I reached for the mate bond that connected us—that thin, fragile thread that Blake seemed determined to fray until it snapped. I hated how my heart still leapt at the contact, a pathetic remnant of hope that refused to die.

*Blake,* I called through our bond, trying to keep my voice steady despite my fear. *Please, I need to speak with you. The healer says our pup is in danger. Please let me stay in the main house, just until the heat breaks.*

I felt his irritation pulse through the bond before he bothered to respond.

*What now, Mia?*

*Please,* I begged, my mental voice trembling. *I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. Our baby could die in this heat.*

The bond went silent, and for a moment, I thought he'd ignored me completely. Then the door to Elara's clinic swung open with enough force to bang against the wall.

Blake stood in the doorway, his imposing figure blocking the light. He was dressed impeccably as always, not a hair out of place, while I lay sweating and disheveled on the examination table. The contrast wasn't lost on me—the future Alpha and his embarrassment of a mate.

"What's this pathetic demand I'm hearing?" he snarled, not bothering to lower his voice even as Elara flinched. "The main house? You think you've earned that privilege?"

"Blake," I whispered, one hand still protectively curved over my belly. "Please. The healer says—"

"I don't care what she says." His eyes, so like mine in color but utterly devoid of warmth, swept over me with disgust. "You're not worthy of walking through the front door, let alone staying there. Stop making demands and be grateful for what you have."

"But our pup—"

"Is none of your concern." The coldness in his voice froze the blood in my veins. "If you can't even manage to carry it properly, then perhaps the Moon Goddess is correcting her mistake."

He turned and strode away, leaving me shattered in his wake. As the door slammed behind him, I felt something inside me break—the last fragile thread of hope that he might someday see me as more than a burden, that our child might somehow bridge the chasm between us.

I curled around my belly, tears streaming down my face, and made a silent promise to my unborn pup: *I will protect you, little one. Even if I have to do it alone.*

But as another pain gripped me, sharper than before, I wondered if it was already too late.