Rejected By My Alpha Husband, Claimed By The Lycan King

Mara's POV

"Come back for a follow-up tomorrow—and try to bring the baby's father with you."

I was about to put away the report when Dr. Elaine said that. I tensed immediately.

She was the doctor my best friend Naomi had recommended—professional and gentle. She had handled every prenatal appointment since I confirmed the pregnancy, and she knew Damon had never once come with me.

"Is there still a problem?"

"A werewolf bloodline places enormous strain on a human mother's body during pregnancy. Damon is an Alpha—his bloodline runs stronger. I'd like him to be present tomorrow to understand the risks and the care plan going forward."

She wrote down the appointment time and handed it to me. "Go home and rest. If you have any abdominal pain or bleeding, come straight to the hospital."

I tucked the paper away and promised I would be there tomorrow.

Walking out of the examination room, I saw the pregnant woman ahead of me passing her report to her husband. The man helped her into a seat, then went after the doctor himself to ask questions. She laughed at him for being so anxious, and pushed her hair to the other side—revealing the mate mark on her neck.

Three years ago, I had believed Damon would make our marriage public too, and leave his mark on my neck.

I took out my phone and opened the photo I had taken today morning: two pairs of baby socks laid side by side on the bed—one pair for a son, one pair for a daughter.

Damon still didn't know I was carrying twins. He had never come to a single scan, and I had always wanted to tell him in person, to give him a surprise. Today I had taken this photo on purpose, thinking I would send it along with the follow-up appointment time—maybe when he saw it, he would feel the same anticipation I did.

Then Celeste's notification appeared on my screen.

School Family Day.

Damon was crouched on the grass, straightening four-year-old Sophie's collar. The little girl had her arms around his neck and was laughing happily. He wasn't looking at the camera—he was still talking to her, head lowered.

[Sophie's happiest day. Thank you, Damon.]

Someone had commented below: What a happy family of three.

I enlarged the photo. Celeste was standing right beside them, one hand on Damon's shoulder, the other holding Sophie's backpack.

So that was the company business he'd mentioned for today.

Our marriage was known only to a few people. I was human—even as an Alpha's true Mate, Damon refused to publicly acknowledge my status as Luna.

The pack needs time to accept it, he always said.

But the moment Celeste came back, she could stand openly at his side.

She had her own wolf. She knew when they were speaking through the mind-link, so she would never be like me—standing there when everyone suddenly laughed, not knowing whether I was supposed to laugh along.

Damon's grandmother Margaret had told me his wolf had chosen me, and that nothing could change that. She had pushed for our marriage, and she kept asking me to be patient with the Ashford pack.

I had asked Damon once: until when?

He kissed my forehead and said, Don't rush it, Mara.

Then the baby came, and I told myself again—maybe this time would be different.

I called him.

"Damon, can you come with me to the hospital tomorrow morning? The doctor wants to check the baby again."

"Tomorrow?" he asked. "Why?"

I looked down at the report on my lap.

"I don't need you to make our relationship public. I just want you to come and hear what the doctor says—to make sure the baby is safe."

"Let me check my schedule."

I thought he was going to say yes. I even started looking for the appointment message, ready to have him save the time.

I kept thinking: if he heard both heartbeats with his own ears, maybe he would start to want them too.

"Uncle Damon, it's itchy here."

"Where? Your arm too?"

His voice moved away from the phone.

"Don't scratch. Celeste, her medicine is in the left pocket of her backpack. Who gave her something to eat today?"

I heard Sophie start to cry. He was looking for the medicine, coaxing her to keep her hands away.

He even knew which pocket her medicine was in.

I waited, then called to him quietly. "Damon—about tomorrow—"

"Have Caleb arrange it. He'll find someone to go with you, and he can follow up on the results."

"I—"

"Mara, I need to take care of Sophie right now."

He hung up.

I put the report back in my bag. Sophie wasn't feeling well—she did need to be looked after. I hadn't wanted to compete with a four-year-old. But what I had asked about was tomorrow.

After I got in the car, I received his message.

[Go home and bring the Harborline contract to the office—it's in the filing cabinet on the left side of the second-floor study. It has to be delivered today!]

Strange—he never used exclamation marks. Before I could think about it too long, I replied:

[Can someone else bring it? I'm not feeling well.]

[You only need to drop it off. If you don't want to, I'll have Celeste do it—and she can handle all the project communication going forward.]

That project was mine. The recent revisions were mine and my team's. The last time Celeste had presented on my behalf, the client's follow-up questions still came back to me—I had to write out every answer and hand them to her.

[Okay.]

The message showed as read. No reply.

I leaned back in my seat. Drop off the contract, then go home and lie down—it would be quick.

The car turned into the Ashford Pack estate. Two grey wolves on patrol passed along the tree-lined road. The gate guard waited until they had gone before opening the gate and calling out to me: Miss Mara.

I had lived here for three years. They still would not call me Luna.

The main house was quiet. The housekeeper said the others were at the guest wing preparing dinner and asked what I would like to eat. I said I wasn't hungry yet and went upstairs.

Halfway up, the baby moved.

I stopped at the banister and waited, my hand resting on my stomach.

Just wait a little longer for Mama.

I left my bag on the study sofa and found the contract with the date marked on it from the stack of documents.

Suddenly the fire alarm went off.

I opened the door. There was smoke in the corridor, and someone was shouting from the direction of the stairs.

"What's happening? Is anyone there?"

I tried to walk toward the stairwell. I hadn't gone far before the smoke made me choke and I couldn't breathe. It was rising steadily from below. I retreated to the study and shut the door, then called the gate on my phone.

Security told me people were already heading this way. Stay in the room, don't move.

There was a balcony off the study. I went to the French doors, gripped the handle, and pushed. The doors wouldn't open. I tried adjusting the angle, then tried again. They still wouldn't move—as though something was jammed in the outside track.

I looked for something to break the glass. Then a sharp pain hit my abdomen.

It forced me down to my knees. I gripped the windowsill and waited for it to pass—but I felt something wet running down my legs. When my hand touched my skirt, I saw blood.

"Help! Help me!"

I called out too fast and inhaled a lungful of smoke. Voices answered from below—they couldn't get up the stairs, they were looking for another way in.

I could hear people below calling out their positions. Werewolves could pass messages to each other through the mind-link. I had no wolf, no way in. I picked up my phone again.

"Damon, the manor is on fire. I'm in the second-floor study. I can't get out."

"What happened? We just got back—we're on the ground floor. Don't come down the stairs."

He was home.

The moment I heard his voice I started crying.

"My stomach hurts—I think I'm bleeding—Damon, come up, please—"

On the phone, Sophie screamed for her mother. He told Celeste to come closer, then called loudly to security to get up to the second floor.

"Mara, I'm getting Sophie out first. Wait in the study—I'm sending people up."

"I'm by the balcony window—"

"I heard you. Don't move."

The call ended.

I kept my phone in my hand and watched the door.

He had taken the child out first—that was as it should be. As long as he knew where I was, he would come back for me.

But no footsteps came.

The pain in my stomach returned. I tried to move away from the smoke curling in under the door, but my legs wouldn't cooperate.

I pressed my hand to my stomach and said: Almost. Daddy's already back. Just a little longer.

Sophie's crying drifted up from outside, and then Damon's voice.

"Sophie, it's okay. I've got you tight—you won't get hurt."

I understood then. They were already outside.

"Damon!"

I slammed my phone against the glass as hard as I could, trying to make him look up. But my eyelids were growing heavier and heavier—