Chapter 7
Bianca's POV
Late at night, I dragged my lead-heavy legs off the bus. The files were finally handed in—first hurdle cleared.
I felt my way upstairs in the dark. The hallway light was still broken. At the third-floor landing, cigarette smoke hit me first, mixed with alcohol. I looked up.
My landlord's son, Mike, swayed out from beside the stair railing, half blocking the steps. Fat, his T-shirt straining across his belly, a half-empty beer bottle in one hand. His bloodshot eyes crawled over me, from my face down to my chest, a lecherous grin spreading. The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up.
"Well, well." He ran his tongue over his lip, flashing smoke-yellowed teeth. "You look gorgeous. Here's your chance—be with me, live here rent-free. All you have to do is take good care of me."
His eyes dropped to my chest. My stomach turned over. I tried to slip past along the edge of the steps. His thick hand shot out, landed on my shoulder, and squeezed.
"Don't run off." He closed the gap, his belly almost pressing against me. "Coming home this late, all alone—must be lonely. Let me keep you company."
"Get out of my way." My voice came out tight, trembling so badly even I could hear it.
"What's the rush?" His hand slid down my arm, flesh rubbing against flesh. I backed up and hit the wall. He pressed his whole body against me, trapping me in the corner, one hand braced beside my head, the other reaching for my collar.
"Don't touch me." I slapped his hand away. "I'm calling the police."
"Go ahead." He laughed, leaning in without a care. "When the cops get here, I'll say you came on to me. You think anyone's gonna believe you?"
Then his both hands grabbed my collar.
I was so scared my head was buzzing, but one thought cut through: don't fight head-on. Run. I drove my knee up hard into his crotch. He howled, doubled over, staggering back. The bottle shattered on the floor.
I ducked under his arm and bolted.
He came after me, wheezing and cursing, his footsteps shaking the whole stairwell. My heart pounded—don't let him catch me. I hit the ground floor, lunged at the unit door, my hands shaking so badly I couldn't grip the handle—two tries before it twisted open. His footsteps were right behind me; I could feel the wind of him lunging.
"Help—" I screamed as I yanked the door open. "Help! Somebody—"
I shot out and slammed straight into someone in a dark uniform, a radio crackling on their shoulder—a patrol officer.
Like a drowning person grabbing a lifeline, I clutched his sleeve, knuckles white. "Help me." I couldn't get a full sentence out, tears already falling. "That man behind me—he was going to rape me—"
Mike chased me all the way to the doorway, then saw the uniform and froze like he'd been nailed to the ground.
I let out a breath of relief.
The officer stepped in front of me. Another colleague came running, and the two of them blocked Mike in. The patrol car arrived; I watched them shove Mike into the back seat. I exhaled again.
Good. I'm safe. I slid down the wall and sat on the ground, my legs shaking too much to hold me. Then the world started spinning. My vision blurred, a strange heat spreading through my body, gathering around my eyes—like electricity flowing outward from my face.
"Miss?" The officer's voice sounded impossibly far away. "Are you all right? Your eyes…"
Something was happening. I could feel it in my bones—a transformation I couldn't explain. Fear clamped around my throat. I tried to stand, tried to say I was fine, but my legs wouldn't hold me.
"Somebody catch her!" I heard someone shout. Then my last shred of consciousness slipped away, and I fell into endless darkness.
I was woken by the beeping of the heart monitor.
White ceiling, antiseptic smell—definitely a hospital. But not the cramped little human clinic I'd gone to when I broke my arm as a kid. This room was absurdly spacious, outfitted with equipment I'd only ever seen in magazines.
A tall male doctor stood at the foot of the bed, frowning at a tablet. One look and you could tell he was a werewolf—tall, imposing, carrying that inherent grace of his kind.
"Miss Bianca." He noticed I was awake. "How are you feeling?"
"Confused," I admitted, my voice hoarse. "What happened?"
"The police from last night called for an ambulance." He walked closer slowly, his gaze locked onto my eyes in a way that made the back of my neck prickle. "I'm Dr. Reeves. May I examine your eyes?"
Before I could answer, he picked up a penlight and shone it into my right eye, paused, then moved to the left. His hand stopped. He leaned in closer, the light wavered, and he sucked in a sharp breath, stepping back half a pace.
"What?" My heart dropped.
"Your eyes…" He stared at me, his voice carrying a vibration he couldn't suppress. "You were green-eyed, correct? Both of them green."
"Yes." My throat went dry. "What about it?"
He didn't answer. He turned, grabbed a small mirror from the counter, and handed it to me. I took it, looked at the face in the glass—and froze. My left eye was still green. My right eye had turned blue. One blue, one green. Clear as day. I stared at the mirror, my mind going blank with a buzz.
"Your green eyes have mutated into heterochromia," Dr. Reeves said, gesturing at my eyes. He was choosing his words carefully, but I could see the excitement he couldn't quite suppress. "Your dual-colored pupils aren't just a cosmetic difference. They're… reacting."
"Reacting to what?" My voice was shaking.
"That's exactly what we need to find out." He put down the penlight and picked up my chart. "Miss Bianca, I have something unexpected to tell you. According to your blood test results, you're about four weeks pregnant."
What did he just say?
The world seemed to stop. That sentence echoed in my ears, my brain scrambling to process it.
"What? No, that's impossible. I mean… I only…" My voice trailed off as the truth hit me with sudden clarity. Four weeks. That night. Nicholas Rayne. My hand moved to my stomach on its own, tears rushing up. "Oh my God."
"There's more." Dr. Reeves watched my reaction and continued. "When you were brought in, several werewolf medical staff reported feeling inexplicably drawn to you. Your emotional state seems to affect them on a physiological level. Combined with the unique energy signature your heterochromia is emitting…"
He stepped back, clearly shaken by his own discovery. "I need to consult with the senior medical team immediately. This is… unprecedented."
I watched him hurry out of the room, my mind a mess. Pregnant. With Nicholas Rayne's child. A human carrying a werewolf's baby. What did that even mean? And what the hell was wrong with my eyes?
Through the glass wall, I saw Dr. Reeves at the nurses' station, making an urgent phone call.
Twenty minutes passed.
The door burst open. Nicholas Rayne strode in, his sheer presence filling the entire room instantly. Our eyes collided, and a jolt went through me—half fear, half a thrill I didn't want to admit. He was exactly as I remembered: tall, overpowering, those sharp amber eyes looking right through me.
My chest tightened. He was here. He was about to find out I was carrying his child. I wanted to disappear, sink into the floor and escape that piercing gaze.
Behind him was an elegant older woman. I recognized her at once—Diana Rayne, his grandmother, the chair of the werewolf council. Silver hair pulled back into a meticulous bun, posture ramrod straight.
Nicholas's gaze hadn't left me for a second. His face showed nothing. But I could feel the tension radiating off him. And that, more than any expression, terrified me.
Diana walked to the bedside, her sharp eyes studying my face.
"So it's true." She spoke quietly, reaching out as if to touch my cheek, then stopping just short. "One blue, one green—heterochromia, newly manifested. The mark of a destined mate. I never thought I'd see one in my lifetime."
Mate? The word echoed in my head, foreign and frightening. I'd heard rumors—that a werewolf's mate was something like a soul bond—but what did that have to do with me?
"Mrs. Rayne." Dr. Reeves spoke respectfully. "The test results are confirmed. Her pupils have begun showing the energy characteristics recorded in the old texts. And there's something else—she's pregnant."
Diana's eyebrow arched. "Pregnant? Whose?"
Nicholas's jaw tightened visibly.
My face burned with humiliation. How did this happen to me?
"We need to speak privately." Diana finally spoke, her tone brooking no argument. "Doctor, leave us."
Once Dr. Reeves hurried out, she turned to me.
"Child, do you know what you are? Do you know what those eyes mean?"
I shook my head, unable to speak, my throat tight with pain.
"You are what our kind calls a 'destined mate'—a genetic match perfectly suited to an Alpha werewolf. These differently colored eyes are an extremely rare, ancient mark. They grant special abilities, chief among them the power to influence a werewolf's emotions and behavior." She leaned closer. "But there's a problem. You're human. Destined mates have always been werewolves. In all recorded history, this has never happened."
Diana turned abruptly to Nicholas, her eyes sharpening. "Nicholas. Explain yourself. How did this human girl end up pregnant with what appears to be your child?"
That blunt question sent a shudder through me. I didn't dare look at Nicholas, couldn't bear his reaction. I could only stare down at my own trembling hands.
What the hell is happening to my life?
