Mated by Contract to the Alpha Chapter 96

Dominic's POV

I watched Rebecca's confused expression, her brows knitted together as she tried to process everything I'd just explained about the mark on my neck. The Alpha rage that had consumed me moments ago began to subside, replaced by a strange mixture of vulnerability and tenderness that I rarely allowed myself to feel.

"I shouldn't be mad at you for not understanding the meaning of marking werewolves," I admitted, taking a step toward her. The moonlight filtering through the trees cast silver patterns across her face, highlighting the uncertainty in her eyes.

I reached for her hand, relieved when she didn't pull away. Her skin was soft and warm against my calloused palm, sending that now-familiar current of electricity through my body. The wolf inside me, still agitated from our misunderstanding, began to settle.

"I promise you this, Rebecca," I said, my voice low and steady. "I won't end what's between us because of a momentary mood or misunderstanding. And I will never seek another while you're in my life."

Her eyes widened slightly, tears gathering at the corners. I could smell the salt of them, mixed with the unique scent that was purely hers—like wildflowers after rain, with notes of honeysuckle that seemed to intensify whenever she was close to me.

"But in return," I continued, my voice dropping to a more serious tone, "you must accept my full protection. No more hiding dangers or threats from me. No more facing problems alone when they involve the pack or its members."

Rebecca nodded, a tear finally escaping and trailing down her cheek. I brushed it away with my thumb, allowing myself the luxury of caressing her face.

I pulled her into my arms then, burying my face in her neck and inhaling deeply. Her scent was intoxicating, calming the last remnants of my wolf's agitation. "You're never a burden, little doe. Never that."

I held her like that for a long moment, savoring the way her body fit against mine, the sound of her heartbeat synchronizing with my own. It felt right in a way I couldn't fully articulate—even to myself.

"Tonight I'll stay with you," I murmured against her hair. "Tomorrow I'll return to handle pack business. But for now, just let me be here with you."

She nodded against my chest, and I felt something inside me settle—a piece falling into place that I hadn't realized was missing.

---

Later that night, I lay beside Rebecca in her suite at the resort, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest as she slept. The moonlight streaming through the windows painted her skin in silver and shadow, making her look almost otherworldly. My fingers itched to trace the curve of her cheek, but I didn't want to wake her.

Instead, I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts racing despite my physical exhaustion. I'd never told her that she was my true mate. Not just someone I was attracted to, not just a human woman who had somehow managed to mark me, but my actual destined mate—the one the Moon Goddess had chosen for me.

It wasn't just fear of those families who opposed humans integrating into the pack that kept me silent. Though that danger was real enough—there were elders who would go to extreme lengths to prevent a human from becoming Luna, especially with my ascension to Alpha approaching.

No, what truly held my tongue was the knowledge that Rebecca had just escaped one form of manipulation. William had controlled her, lied to her, made her believe in a future that was never real. If I told her now that we were destined mates—that an ancient magic had bound us together before we even met—wouldn't that feel like another form of entrapment to her?

My fingers found their way to the mark on my neck, tracing the slightly raised skin where her teeth had broken through. The connection hummed beneath my touch, warm and alive. She'd marked me instinctively, without even knowing what it meant. How could I burden her with the knowledge that this wasn't just a choice, but destiny?

When I officially took the Alpha position, I would tell her everything. I would explain what it meant to be Luna, what our connection truly signified. And then I would ask—not demand, but ask—if she would accept the role, accept me, completely.

Though Silver Moon Shadow had never had a human Luna before, I was working to change that. Marcus and several of the younger elders were already on my side. Change was coming to the pack, whether the old guard liked it or not.

Beside me, Rebecca stirred in her sleep, turning to nestle against my side. I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her closer, and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Whatever came next, whatever challenges we faced, I would protect her—even if that meant protecting her from the full truth until she was ready to hear it.

---

Rebecca's POV

One Week Later

I struggled to keep my eyes open as Professor Lane explained the influence of post-modernism on contemporary fashion design. The lecture hall felt unusually warm, and despite having slept nearly nine hours last night, fatigue weighed on me like a physical presence.

After spending several days at the mountain resort with Sofia—days filled with unexpected reconciliation when Dominic appeared in wolf form and our subsequent heart-to-heart—I thought I'd be rejuvenated. Instead, I felt increasingly exhausted.

I stifled another yawn, forcing myself to focus on Professor Lane's animated gestures as he compared different design philosophies. My pencil moved sluggishly across the page, my notes becoming increasingly illegible.

"The revolutionary approach to silhouette during this period..." Professor Lane's voice seemed to fade in and out as I fought to stay awake.

The student beside me—Mia, I thought her name was—slid a water bottle toward me with a concerned glance. I smiled gratefully and took a sip, hoping the cold liquid might shock me back to alertness.

"Ms. Brown?"

I jerked upright, realizing with horror that Professor Lane was looking directly at me, eyebrows raised expectantly. The classroom had gone silent.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat the question?" I asked, heat rushing to my face as a few students snickered.

Professor Lane's expression was more concerned than annoyed. "I asked if you could elaborate on how Yamamoto's deconstruction techniques related to the concept we just discussed."

My mind went completely blank. I hadn't heard enough of the lecture to even guess at an answer. "I... I'm not sure," I admitted, mortification washing over me.

He studied me for a moment longer before mercifully turning to another student. "Mr. White, perhaps you could share your thoughts?"

As attention shifted away from me, I slumped in my seat, wondering what was wrong with me. I'd spent a week relaxing at a luxury resort, reconciled with Dominic, and things between us were better than ever. So why did I feel like I could barely function?

---

When class finally ended, I gathered my things slowly, still feeling lightheaded. I needed to return Professor Lane's suit. I'd finally remembered to bring it back after having it dry-cleaned.

"Professor Lane?" I knocked softly on his office door after most students had cleared out.

"Come in, Rebecca." He looked up from his desk, his expression warming. "I was hoping to speak with you after class."

I stepped into his office, the familiar scent of old books and coffee creating a comfortable atmosphere. I pulled the dry-cleaned coat from my bag and held it out.

"Thank you for lending me this. I'm sorry it took so long to return it."

He smiled, taking the coat from me. "Not at all necessary, but I appreciate the thoughtfulness."

As he hung the coat on a rack behind his desk, he continued, "Your design talent shouldn't be dampened by a sudden storm, literal or figurative." He turned back to me, his expression shifting to concern. "Are you feeling alright, Rebecca? You seemed distracted in class today."

"I'm fine," I started to say, but suddenly, a powerful wave of nausea rolled through me. My face must have paled because Professor Lane's expression immediately turned alarmed.

"Rebecca?"

"I'm sorry," I managed to gasp before clapping a hand over my mouth and rushing from his office toward the nearest bathroom, barely registering his concerned call after me.

I barely made it into a stall before violent retching overtook me. After several miserable minutes, I leaned weakly against the wall, trembling. This was the second time this week this had happened. What was wrong with me?

I heard the bathroom door open and Professor Lane's hesitant voice called out, "Rebecca? Do you need help?"

Embarrassment flooded through me. Great. Now one of my professors had heard me throwing up.

"I'm..." I tried to respond, but another wave of nausea cut me off.

A few moments later, when I emerged from the stall, pale and shaky, Professor Lane was waiting outside the bathroom with a bottle of water and concerned eyes.

"This isn't just fatigue, is it?" he asked gently, handing me the water.

I took a small sip, trying to settle my stomach. "I think I might have caught something at the resort last week," I said weakly, though that didn't explain why I'd felt tired even before that.

Professor Lane's expression was firm but kind. "You need to see a doctor. This isn't normal, especially combined with your inability to focus in class."

I started to protest, but he shook his head. "I'm driving you to the hospital myself. After your recent concussion, these symptoms could be serious."