Page 1 of Impregnated By the Alpha

Chapter 1 - Jonah

Some people seem to flow through life like water, finding no resistance. Others were more like rocks thrown in the stream, sinking to the bottom wherever they landed. Jonah was one of the latter, he’d decided. He was made to watch the others float by.

“Are you even listening to me?” Emma demanded, knocking his book out of his hands. “I’ve been talking to you for, like, five minutes.”

He picked up the book and straightened the folded pages, sighing. Those creases would never come out.

“Did I miss anything important?” He looked up finally.

Behind him, a pot of chili bubbled on the stove, and a pan of cornbread was baking in the oven, perfuming the air with the sweet scent of butter. He’d posted himself up on one of the barstools, flipping through an old paperback while the food finished, a cup of coffee cooling beside him.

Judging from Emma's scoff, he hadn’t missed much. She cocked her hip to the side and shivered, underdressed as usual.

He’d cracked a window though the air was too cold for it, the summer fading swiftly to autumn in a riot of color. It was his favorite season. He was already thinking of the stews he’d cook and the pumpkin he’d carve at Halloween.

“It’s freezing in here, Jo. I’m going to shut this.” Emma yanked the window shut and rounded on him again. “Beth is looking for you because I’m apparently a goddamn errand boy for her now.”

“She just had a baby, Em,” Jonah pointed out, getting to his feet.

An adorable baby boy that he swore was the spitting image of Devon, right down to his crying face and burps.

“And don’t we all know it,” she complained, looking at herself in the window’s reflection. “I’m going to start sleeping outside if he wakes me up again. Look at these under-eye circles. I’ve aged ten years.”

Despite what she claimed, Emma was obsessed with the baby and insisted on handling any late-night soothings or early morning walks. To make up for that occasional softness, she complained dramatically anytime the baby was not around.

“You look great as always,” Jonah said, fixing Beth a plate, fresh-baked sourdough, apricot jam, smoked walnuts, and a cup of peppermint tea.

It was true. Without her usual pristine appearance, Emma looked more like the girl he’d known as children, more approachable, more human.

“Liar,” she called to his back as he went to find Beth.

“Take the cornbread out when the timer dings!” He yelled back to her, setting an alarm on his phone just in case.

. He checked for Beth first in the master bedroom, where she’d moved in with Devon before the baby was born. It was empty, as was the crib beside the bed. The nursery, office, and living room were dark and quiet, almost eerie in their silence.

Realizing he should’ve asked Emma where to find Beth, he continued his search, knowing that if he went back to ask her now, she’d find too much joy in withholding the information. Becoming an aunt had not lessened her pleasure in being a pain in the ass.

“She must be in the garden,” Jonah said to himself, stopping by his room for his sweater before heading outside.

It was still her solace, the place she’d found refuge in when she’d first come unwillingly to the White Winter pack. Now, he couldn’t imagine the pack without her. She was everything they’d been missing and hadn’t realized they’d needed, a calming, motherly figure.

“Beth?” He called, slipping between the hedges.

The garden was heaving its final breaths. Late summer roses clung to their branches, drooping toward the dahlias fading by their feet. He stooped to pick a few sprigs of rosemary from the herb garden, crushing a fragrant leaf between his fingers. They’d go perfectly with the beef stew he had planned for tomorrow.

“There you are,” he said, finding Beth at last.

She was kneeling by a border, pulling dead plants from the dirt and tossing them into a bucket on the path.

“Oh, Jonah, Emma found you.” Beth stood and pulled off her gloves, tossing them beside the bucket. She surprised him with a hug. “Come and sit over here with me.”

He knew at once that something wasn’t right, the way her round eyes softened when she looked at him, how her hug had lasted a second longer than usual.

“Here, this is for you,” he said, handing her the plate once they’d settled onto the bench. “What’s going on? Is everything okay? Is it Devon? Is it Edwin?”

But it couldn’t be—if something had happened to Devon or the baby, Emma would not have seemed so chipper. Beth gazed down at the food in her lap, shaking her head.

“No, it’s neither of them, Jonah. It’s your father.” She twisted on the bench and reached for his hands. “I’m afraid he’s passed away.”

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