Mated by Contract to the Alpha Chapter 106

Dominic's POV

"Then why didn't you say anything?" she asked. Her fingers tightened around mine, her touch warm and delicate against my skin.

I sighed, my thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand. I couldn't meet her eyes for a moment, the weight of my confession heavy on my shoulders. "I wanted to give you time to heal from William's betrayal. And..." I hesitated, choosing my words carefully, "I was afraid that once you knew everything about me—about what I am—you would run."

"I'm still here," she whispered. She reached up to touch my face, her fingers tracing the strong line of my jaw. Her touch sent electricity through me, the wolf inside me responding to her gentleness.

"Yes," I said, unable to hide the wonder in my voice. I felt my eyes darken with emotion as I looked at her. "You are."

I leaned forward then, drawn to her by an instinct deeper than thought. My lips met hers in a kiss unlike the others we'd shared—not demanding or possessive, but tender, filled with everything I couldn't yet say. A promise of protection, of devotion. I could taste the salt of tears on her lips, though whether they were hers or mine, I wasn't certain.

When we parted, I saw something in her eyes—a decision forming, words gathering that she seemed ready to share. But before she could speak, the door opened, and a doctor entered, clipboard in hand.

"Ms. Brown, I'm just checking on your IV—" She stopped, noticing me. "Oh, I'm sorry to interrupt."

I straightened immediately, my body responding automatically to the intrusion. My shoulders squared, my chin lifted slightly. "I'm Dominic Sterling. How is she?"

The doctor glanced at Rebecca, then back to me. I caught the slight hesitation in her eyes, a guardedness that my wolf noticed immediately. "Ms. Brown is suffering from exhaustion and emotional stress. Her body has had a significant physical reaction to recent trauma."

"Will she recover fully?" I pressed, keeping my tone respectful but firm. I needed clear answers, not medical evasions.

"With proper rest and care, yes." She emphasized the words, looking pointedly at me. "She needs complete rest for at least 24 hours. No stress, no strong emotional stimuli."

I nodded gravely, already making plans. "I'd like to move her to the private medical suite at Sterling Estate. My personal physician can—"

"No," Rebecca interrupted, perhaps too quickly. Both the doctor and I looked at her in surprise. I saw her swallow hard, her pulse visible at her throat. "I mean, I'd prefer to stay here and complete the treatment. The doctors here know how to care for me."

My brow furrowed, suspicion flickering through me. Why was she so resistant? But I didn't argue—not now, not when she was so fragile. Instead, I turned back to the doctor. "Then I want the best care this hospital can provide. Whatever she needs."

"Of course, Mr. Sterling." The doctor checked the IV bag. "She's responding well to the treatment. The most important thing now is rest."

---

After she left, I moved to stand by the window, feeling the moonlight on my face as I processed everything.

The sterile hospital room was filled with her scent, but there was something else now. Something different. A subtle change in her natural fragrance that tugged at my instincts, calling to the wolf within me.

My knuckles whitened as I gripped the windowsill. Something was wrong. Rebecca was hiding something, and whatever it was, it had changed her in some fundamental way that my wolf could sense even if my human mind couldn't identify it.

I turned slightly, watching her from the corner of my eye. She lay against the white hospital pillows, her skin too pale, dark circles under her eyes. She'd lost weight—how had I not noticed before? Her collar bones stood out sharply beneath her hospital gown, and her wrists seemed more delicate than ever where the IV needle entered her skin.

She'd said she loved me. The words replayed in my mind, warming something that had been cold for too long. And I had responded in kind, the truth spilling out before I could consider the consequences. I hadn't planned to tell her yet—not until I was certain I could protect her from all the dangers my world would bring to her doorstep. But seeing her in that hospital bed, so fragile yet so strong, the words had come unbidden.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. Marcus.

[Found trail of intruders who broke into Brown apartment. Tracking now.]

My jaw clenched, a growl building in my chest that I forced myself to swallow. I would tear apart anyone who had harmed her family, who had caused her this pain. The wolf inside me snarled in agreement, demanding blood.

I glanced back at Rebecca. She was watching me, her gray-green eyes filled with questions she was too tired to ask. The sight of her calmed the rage somewhat. I needed to focus on her now, on helping her heal. Vengeance could wait.

"What is it?" she asked softly.

"Nothing important," I lied, slipping the phone back into my pocket. I worked to keep my expression neutral. "Just pack business."

She nodded, accepting the half-truth, and I felt a stab of guilt. Even now, I wasn't being completely honest with her. But some truths were burdens she didn't need to bear—not in her current state.

I moved back to her bedside, noticing how her hand had come to rest protectively over her abdomen. It was an unconscious gesture, one I'd seen her make several times since I'd arrived. My senses sharpened, focusing on that subtle change in her scent again. It was almost like...

No. Surely not. It was too soon.

My eyes fell on her chart, hanging at the foot of the bed. One quick look would confirm my suspicions. But that would be a violation of her privacy, her trust. If she wasn't telling me, she must have her reasons.

A nurse entered to adjust Rebecca's IV, and I noticed how she glanced at certain notations on the chart with particular interest. After she left, curiosity nearly overwhelmed me, but I resisted the urge to look. Instead, I knelt beside Rebecca's bed, taking her hand in mine.

I breathed deeply, letting her scent wash over me. Yes, there it was—that new note in her fragrance, subtle but unmistakable to my heightened senses. A change that spoke of new life, of something precious growing within her. My child.

The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. Rebecca was carrying my child. A surge of primal protectiveness washed over me, nearly overwhelming in its intensity. My wolf howled within me, demanding that I claim her, mark her, keep her safe from all harm.

With effort, I controlled the urge. She hadn't told me, which meant she wasn't ready for me to know. Perhaps she was afraid of my reaction, or unsure of her own feelings. I would give her time. She would tell me when she was ready.

I brought her hand to my lips, kissing her palm gently. Her skin was warm despite her pallor, and I could feel her pulse—quick and light. Tears had dried on her cheeks, leaving faint trails that made my heart ache.

"You should rest," I told her, keeping my voice even despite the storm of emotions within me.

She nodded, her eyelids already drooping with exhaustion. "Will you stay?"

"As long as you need me," I promised.

A small smile touched her lips as her eyes closed. "Good."

I watched as she drifted into sleep, her breathing becoming deep and regular. Only then did I allow myself to truly process what I'd discovered. A child. My child. Growing inside this human woman who had somehow broken through every barrier I'd built around my heart.

The implications were staggering. A half-werewolf child was rare enough, but one born to a future Alpha? There hadn't been such a birth in generations. The pack would be divided—some would see it as a blessing, others as a threat to pure bloodlines. My mother would be furious. The elders would demand explanations.

And none of it mattered. Not compared to keeping Rebecca and our child safe.

Outside, a police siren wailed in the distance, and I instinctively moved between the window and Rebecca's sleeping form, my body tensing for danger. It passed, just a coincidence, but my vigilance didn't ease. I would protect her with my life if necessary.

I noticed how, even in sleep, her hand rested on her abdomen, protective and tender. The gesture struck me deeply. She might not have told me about the pregnancy, but it was clear she already loved our child.

Leaning close, I whispered in her ear, using the ancient language of my people: "By the moon as my witness, my heart, my strength, my life are yours, no matter what secrets you hold."

My fingers brushed against the mark on my neck—her mark—feeling its warmth. "When you're ready, I will be here to listen, my mate, my everything."