Page 15 of The Billionaire Alpha's Surprise Baby

The two of us land in a heap by the window, and Chaston lunges forward. His jaws lock around my neck. Opportunistic bastard.

I thrash and growl until I’m free of Anders and land a nasty swipe across Chaston’s ribs. The white wolf yelps as blood stains his fur, and I jerk around to nip at his leg.

Panting, I drag myself onto all fours and square off against my two brothers.

“Stop it!” Hyacinthe yells. “Fucking — stop! I’m too fucking hungover to deal with this bullshit.”

I ignore Hyacinthe and glare at my two brothers. I swear I see Anders’s wolf smirk. He knows I’m no match for the three of them.

Drawing Chaston’s blood wasn’t nearly as cathartic as I’d hoped. He’s young and impulsive, which makes him easy to best in a fight.

I narrow my eyes as I stalk out of the room, snarling at Hyacinthe as I pass.

The giant doggie door doesn’t exactly match the decor, but it’s necessary when you have an entire family of wolf shifters living under one roof. The alpha in me is loath to retreat, but my siblings aren’t worth getting maimed or killed.

My breath forms a cloud around me as I step out into the snow.

I need to run. I need to escape. I need to not think.

Taking off into the trees, I head up the mountain until my lungs start to burn. If only the frigid mountain air could burn off the regret for how I behaved last night.

By some incredible stroke of luck, I found my fated mate. And I dragged her back to my place the first chance I got and mauled her like a drunken asshole.

No wonder Ava left this morning without saying goodbye. She probably hates me for taking her virginity when we were both so wasted.

I reach a crest of snow-covered rocks, and the despair is suddenly too much to contain. I lift my head and howl into the wind — crying for Ava, the love I lost. For the mate who will never be mine.

Chapter Six

Ava

Two weeks later . . .

As I watch my pee fill the little window on the plastic stick, my heart drops to my knees. Two pink lines appear in the window — one dark, almost reddish, and another a fainter pink.

Fuck. This can’t be right.

Two lines . . . two lines . . .

I thrust my hand into the wastebasket by the toilet and fish out the brightly colored box. There’s nothing on the back except some bold text promising to tell me I’m pregnant six days earlier than my missed period.

That’s completely useless to me, considering I was supposed to start my period two days before.

“Where are the fucking directions?” I grumble in desperation, fishing through the trash until I manage to locate the crumpled piece of paper.

Two lines mean you’re pregnant. But what about one dark line and one fainter line? I need to Google that next, because I can’t be pregnant.

Yes, I was a little drunk the night that Garrett took my virginity, but I distinctly remember him pulling out.

My mind flashes back to high-school health class. The prematurely gray, pot-bellied gym teacher had always given me the creeps, and after he wriggled a condom down over a banana in front of my entire tenth-grade class, I think I blacked out.

I totally missed his discussion about the shadier methods of birth control, and yet I remember Blowjob Becky saying that you could get pregnant from precum.

Was she right?

Up until my night with Garrett, I’d never had sex, so I’d never had any reason to research whether that was true.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

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