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Rejected While Carrying His Heir Novel Cover

Rejected While Carrying His Heir

I am the Luna of the Blood Moon Pack, but my title feels like a cruel, twisted joke. I suffer from a curse no healer can fix: Wolf-Human Dissonance. While my inner wolf burns with absolute devotion for my fated mate, my human lips are cursed to speak only venom. The wooden wolf totem felt heavy in my palms. I had spent months meticulously carving it for our Marking Anniversary, pouring every ounce of my silent love into the intricate fur and sharp eyes. When Dominic walked into our bedroom that morning, the dark circles under his eyes made my chest ache. My inner wolf, Lyra, wagged her tail frantically, pacing at the forefront of my mind. *Mate!* she purred, her spirit practically vibrating with joy. *Tell him we love him! Happy anniversary!* I smiled softly, stepping forward to hand him the gift.
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Chapter 3

The summon to the Alpha’s office felt like a march to the gallows. I kept my hand pressed flat against my stomach, shielding the tiny spark of life I had discovered only hours ago. *I have to tell him,* I thought frantically. *If he knows about the pup, he’ll stop this madness. He has to.*

My inner wolf, Lyra, paced anxiously in my mind, her ears flattened. *Mate is angry. Be careful.*

I pushed open the heavy oak doors. Dominic didn't look up. He was staring at a map of the territory spread across his desk, the dark circles under his eyes stark against his pale skin. The scent of cedarwood and rain that usually calmed me now smelled stale, tainted by the cloying sweetness of Mila’s perfume that clung to the room.

"You sent for me," I said. I tried to make my voice soft, to say, 'Dominic, please look at me, I'm carrying your child.'

But the curse seized my throat, twisting the vowels until they were sharp as glass. "Make it quick. I have better places to be."

Dominic’s head snapped up. A muscle in his jaw ticked violently. "I’m sure you do," he replied, his voice devoid of any warmth. "But since you are still breathing my air and eating my food, you will make yourself useful."

He shoved a file toward me. "Alpha Darren Perkins of the Vulture Pack is here. Parker has been negotiating a trade route through his lands, but Darren requires a... personal touch to finalize the deal."

My blood ran cold. Alpha Darren was a monster. Stories of what he did to Omegas, how he broke them for sport, were whispered in every pack in the region.

*Dominic, no! He’s dangerous! I’m pregnant!* I screamed internally.

"He’s a predator," I tried to warn him. "Don't send me there."

My lips curled into a sneer against my will. "So you're pimping me out to your friends now? How pathetic."

Dominic slammed his fist on the desk, the sound echoing like a gunshot. "Watch your mouth!" he roared, his Alpha aura flaring hot and suffocating. "You are an Omega now, Daphne. You have no rank, no protection, and no right to refuse. You will host a private dinner for Alpha Darren in the VIP suite. Your sharp tongue should be enough to keep him in line. Just get the contract signed."

He looked back down at his papers, dismissing me. "Get out."

I stumbled out of the office, tears burning my eyes but refusing to fall. I had no choice. If I refused, he could exile me as a rogue, and a pregnant rogue wouldn't survive the winter.

***

The VIP suite smelled of expensive roast beef and cheap cologne. Alpha Darren sat at the head of the mahogany table, grease shining on his chin. He was a massive man, his neck thick with muscle and scars, his eyes small and bead-like.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Darren waved a hand at the two pack warriors standing guard. "Leave us. The Omega and I have much to discuss."

The guards hesitated for a fraction of a second, but Darren was an Alpha. They bowed and exited, leaving me alone with the beast.

I stood by the sideboard, gripping a pitcher of water until my knuckles turned white. *Stay calm,* Lyra whined. *Protect the pup.*

"You're a pretty thing for a reject," Darren grunted, licking a stray drop of wine from his thumb. He stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "Dominic said you were difficult. I like difficult."

He took a step toward me. The air around him reeked of rot and old blood.

I backed away until my hips hit the wall. *Please, just let me leave.*

"Stay back," I tried to beg.

"Come and get it, you filth," my cursed voice spat out.

Darren’s eyes darkened with lust and rage. He laughed, a wet, guttural sound. "That’s the spirit."

He lunged.

I tried to dodge, but he was fast. His heavy hand clamped around my upper arm, fingers digging into my bruises. He yanked me forward, spinning me around and slamming me face-first onto the table. Plates crashed to the floor, shattering.

"No!" I screamed, this time the word ripping out raw and true because it was just a sound, not a sentence. I clawed at his face, my nails digging into his eye socket.

Darren roared in pain, releasing me as he clutched his bleeding face. His features shifted, his nose flattening into a snout, fur sprouting along his jaw as he partially shifted in his rage.

"You little bitch!" he growled, his voice distorted by the shift.

I scrambled backward, trying to protect my stomach, curling into a ball on the floor. "My baby!" I shrieked internally. *Dominic, help me!*

Darren didn't hesitate. He drew his leg back, his heavy, steel-toed combat boot aiming straight for my midsection.

The impact was a thunderclap of agony.

I felt ribs shatter. But worse, I felt a deep, sickening tear inside my womb. The force of the kick lifted me off the floor and slammed me into the wall. I collapsed, gasping for air that wouldn't come, clutching my belly as a warm, wet heat soaked through my dress between my legs.

Darren stood over me, panting, wiping the blood from his eye. He looked down at the spreading pool of red beneath me and spat on the floor. "Damaged goods," he sneered, turning to leave. "Tell Dominic the deal is off."

The door slammed shut.

Silence descended, heavy and suffocating. The pain was blinding, white-hot knives twisting in my gut. But the physical agony was nothing compared to the spiritual silence.

The tiny, flickering light of the second heartbeat inside me... sputtered.

*No, no, no,* Lyra howled, a sound of pure devastation that echoed in the hollows of my skull.

I felt it fade. The connection snapped. My pup was gone.

I lay in my own blood, staring blankly at the ceiling, my hands trembling as they hovered over my empty, broken womb.

Suddenly, the pack mind-link burst open. It was loud, intrusive, and filled with a sickening warmth.

"Blood Moon Pack," Dominic’s voice boomed through the link, vibrating with a pride and joy I hadn't heard in years. "Tonight, we celebrate. Mila is with child. The future of our pack is secured."

A collective cheer erupted through the link from hundreds of wolves. I could feel Dominic’s emotions bleeding through the bond—his relief, his excitement, his *purr* of contentment.

He was celebrating a lie while his true heir lay dead in a pool of blood on the floor of a guest suite.

The cruelty of it finally broke me. I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I just lay there, the light in my eyes dying along with my child, as the darkness finally dragged me under.

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