The Alpha’s Forbidden Pregnant Mate

My chest constricted with each step I took down the endless corridor toward the Great Hall. Dawn’s first light crept through the tall windows, casting everything in ethereal silver and violet hues that reminded me of her eyes.

But something was wrong. The castle felt different this morning—the shadows deeper, the silence more oppressive. Even the servants I passed moved with unusual haste, their faces pale and strained.

Crystalline blue orbs, luminous as winter starlight, haunted every corner of my mind. The werewolf princess I’d encountered beneath the moon’s embrace had claimed not only my waking thoughts—she’d invaded my dreams with silken whispers and phantom touches. Her luscious curves had made my mouth water with desperate hunger. Her intoxicating scent of wild roses and midnight rain had stirred my blood to molten fire.

I wasn’t naive. The moment our gazes locked at the peace summit, recognition blazed through my very soul. I knew what she was, what the fates had destined her to be—my mate.

When I’d held her in the moonlit gardens, nothing had ever felt so perfectly right. Nothing had ever been so devastatingly wrong…

Damn the gods…

She was forbidden to me. Her people had torn my heart from my chest when they’d slaughtered my dearest companion. Kieran had been my brother in all but blood. We’d ridden into countless battles together, saved each other from death’s embrace more times than I could count. Then came that final, fatal night when his lifeblood painted the earth crimson as he died in my arms. He’d thrown himself between me and a werewolf’s snapping jaws, taking the death blow meant for me.

My heart clenched as his dying words echoed in my memory.

“Swear to me,” he’d gasped, crimson frothing from his lips. “Promise me you’ll protect my sister. She has no one else in this cruel world.”

I’d clasped his trembling hand and vowed, “I’ll do more than protect her. I’ll make her my wife.”

Relief had washed over his bloodstained features before his eyes turned glassy and vacant, his final breath escaping like morning mist. Then he was gone, leaving only silence.

Both Kieran and I knew how his beloved sister, Rosalina, had cherished secret feelings for me through the years. Though I’d never returned her romantic affections—seeing her only as a dear sister—I knew wedding her would bring my fallen friend peace. The gratitude in his dying eyes had confirmed it.

Yet now… now that I’d found my true mate…

“Hellfire,” I cursed, raking fingers through my midnight hair.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed from somewhere behind me, followed by hushed, urgent voices. I caught fragments of whispered words: “…the princess…” “…already in position…” “…his majesty’s orders…”

My blood turned to ice.

“Lysander,” a commanding voice called from the shadows ahead.

My head snapped up to find my father approaching. King Malachar loomed before me, his brow dark as storm clouds, nostrils flaring. His violet eyes blazed with otherworldly fire—but there was something else there. Something that made my skin crawl. Anticipation. Excitement.

Fresh ink stains marked his fingers, and I caught the scent of melted wax. He’d been writing letters. Many of them.

Lips curling back, he growled, “Follow me.” He whirled away, his obsidian cloak billowing like raven wings.

My heart plummeted to my stomach.

What in the nine hells?

The way he moved—predatory, purposeful—told me this wasn’t a casual summons. This was something he’d been planning.

Spine rigid, I followed my father down a side passage. He paused at his chamber doors, gesturing for me to enter first. Raising a questioning brow, I swept past as he trailed behind, sealing the door with a resonant thud that echoed like a death knell.

I surveyed the opulent room quickly, my warrior instincts prickling with unease. Silvery light slanted through the bay windows, the velvet window seat empty. The massive four-poster bed was perfectly made, deep sapphire covers tucked precisely beneath the frame. An ancient dire wolf pelt sprawled across the polished floor.

But it was the desk that caught my attention. Scattered across its surface were dozens of letters, official documents bearing royal seals, and what looked like… marriage contracts?

My pulse spiked.

My mother was nowhere in sight, but her absence felt deliberate. Orchestrated.

“What’s this about?” I demanded, my nerves on edge, hand instinctively moving toward my sword hilt.

My father circled me like a predator, hands clasped behind his broad back. I tracked his every movement, coiled tight as a hunting cat. Finally, King Malachar stopped before me, eyes narrowed to violet slits that seemed to peer into my very soul.

“Why do you reek of werewolf?” The words were forged in steel. His nose wrinkled as he inhaled deeply. But instead of fury, something else flickered across his features—something that looked almost like satisfaction. “A female werewolf’s essence clings to you like sin.”

Horror clawed at my chest, followed swiftly by disbelief. I quickly examined our bond mentally. It remained incomplete, hovering as a shimmering line between us. The ethereal cords glowed brilliantly—mine a deep violet flame, hers a radiant silver fire touched with gold. Relief flooded through me. We weren’t permanently bonded yet.

But as I studied the connection, something else became clear. The bond was strengthening on its own. Growing. Pulsing with a life of its own.

Can he sense the mating bond? How?

My father must have read the questions written across my face. “As your King, I possess the power to perceive the bonds that tie my people’s souls together. That includes yours.” He stepped closer until we were a breath apart, forcing me to stare into eyes that mirrored my own. “As your father… I sensed something had changed the moment I laid eyes on you. One scent told me everything.”

His smile was razor-sharp. “But that’s not all I can sense, son.”

Ice flooded my veins. “What do you mean?”

“There’s nothing to tell,” I snarled instead, fists clenching.

“Don’t play games with me,” King Malachar said, but his voice lacked the expected rage. Instead, there was an underlying current of excitement. “I know you’ve been intimate with a female werewolf.”

My eyes flared wide. “Like hell I have,” I snapped. My blood boiled at his accusation. Did he think so little of me that I’d betray our people—betray my sacred promise to Kieran? I was pledged to his sister, for the gods’ sake!

King Malachar scoffed. “Please.” He brought his face close to mine, and I caught something in his expression that made my stomach drop. Triumph. “I can smell her on your very skin!”

My mind flashed to embracing the princess in the gardens. Her brilliant sapphire eyes had fluttered closed as she’d melted into my touch, lips parted for the kiss that never came. Even now, my mouth watered for a taste of those perfect lips—to savour the feel of her soft curves pressed against my hardened body.

Desire stirred low in my belly, threatening to consume me.

I clenched my jaw, forcing down the lust that rode me mercilessly. “You smell her because we held each other,” I admitted through gritted teeth. “But I did not bed her!” My gaze implored his. “I would never betray my people like that. It’s unthinkable.”

My father searched my eyes, as if seeking the truth in their depths. I felt his penetrating stare straight through to my soul. I held his gaze, unwavering. Finally stepping back, the king granted me space. My lungs expanded as if they’d been starved for air.

Drawing a deep breath, my father said, “I believe you, son.” His lips pressed into a thin line. “I know how deeply your hatred for the werewolves runs.” His brow furrowed, but something flickered in his eyes—something that looked almost like satisfaction. “But that still doesn’t explain why a female werewolf’s scent clings to your skin like a lover’s perfume.”

My jaw worked as I weighed my next words. Could I truly confess this to my father? That I’d found my destined mate among our sworn enemies? King Malachar was just and fair, but he was also a dominant alpha with a fierce temper.

And the way he was watching me now—like a spider watching a fly walk into its web—made every instinct scream at me to stay silent.

But I couldn’t. The truth was a burning coal in my throat.

I drew a steadying breath and straightened to my full height. “I met my mate at this summit. She’s…” I paused, watching cold realisation wash over my father’s face, his eyes widening in shock. Bile rose in my throat. “She’s the werewolf princess, Seraphina Nightclaw.”

Tense silence stretched between us like a blade. King Malachar shook his head slowly. “It cannot be,” he whispered. “Are you… are you certain?”

I dropped my head, tugging at my hair in agitation. “I wish to the gods I wasn’t, Father. But the female is my mate.”

My father turned away, his back ramrod straight. He placed his hands on his hips and bowed his head. For the first time in my life, the great King Malachar was speechless. Pain lanced through my heart, seeing him reduced to this because of me and my bond with our enemy. My fists trembled with the urge to destroy something. The dark powers within my core swelled, seeking release.

Then I heard it. Low, almost inaudible.

My father was chuckling.

The sound sent terror racing through my veins. King Malachar’s laughter had always been a harbinger of someone’s doom.

My father turned sideways, rubbing his chin as he cast me a calculating look that made my blood turn to ice water.

The fine hairs at my nape rose in warning.

What is he thinking?

“Perfect,” King Malachar murmured, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. “Absolutely perfect.”

No. No, no, no.

I raised a brow, studying him through narrowed eyes. “What? What are you planning?”

My father moved to the desk, his fingers trailing across the marriage contracts. “Do you know what this means, Lysander?” His smile was predatory. “Your mate bond with the werewolf princess… it’s not a curse. It’s an opportunity.”

My world tilted. “Father, what are you talking about?”

“You’re going to marry her,” he said simply, as if discussing the weather. “Tonight.”

Horror crashed over me like a tidal wave. “You can’t be serious—”

“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.” He turned to face me fully, eyes blazing with an unholy light. “Think about it, son. A political marriage between our peoples, legitimized by a true mate bond? The werewolves would have no choice but to accept it. And once you’re wed…”

He didn’t need to finish. I understood perfectly. Once I was married to Seraphina, he’d have leverage over the entire werewolf nation. Control.

“She’ll never agree to it,” I said desperately. “Her people would never allow it.”

My father’s smile was purely predatory. “Oh, but they will. Because you see, I’ve already made the arrangements.” He gestured to the letters on his desk. “The werewolf delegation has been… persuaded… to see the wisdom in this union. A marriage to seal the peace treaty.”

My knees nearly buckled. “What did you do?”

“What I had to do to secure our people’s future.” His eyes gleamed with malevolent satisfaction. “The princess is being prepared for the ceremony as we speak. Her father has already given his consent.”

Through the mental connection, I felt it—Seraphina’s confusion, her growing panic as she realized what was happening.

“You can’t force her into this,” I said, my voice breaking.

“Force? My dear boy, this is diplomacy at its finest.” He stepped closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. “She’s your mate, Lysander. The bond will make her compliant soon enough. And once you’re wed, once she bears your children… the werewolf bloodline will be forever tied to ours.”

The Great Hall doors loomed before us as we left his chambers, and beyond them, I could hear the murmur of voices. The summit was about to begin—but it was all a facade.

My father’s final words followed me like a curse: “Welcome to the real reason for this peace summit, boy. By nightfall, you’ll be a married man, and our people will have won a war without spilling a drop of blood.”