Page 44 of Impregnated By the Alpha

If there was a time when she had ever been less okay, she couldn’t remember it. On the sidewalk outside the bookshop, where anyone could walk by, wasn’t where she wanted to tell him. A public scene was the last thing she needed.

“Let’s go to the lighthouse,” she said, shifting before he could respond. She knew he would follow.

Racing down the street, Moira’s paws gripping the asphalt, she heard Jonah fall into place behind her. They ran onto the sand, still pleasantly warm from the day under the sun. Moira raced along the tide line. The sea lapped at her paws, and Jonah, barking wildly, ran past her deeper into the water. His joy was infectious, but the dread set in again as the lighthouse grew closer.

The place still gave her the creeps. She’d only chosen it because going to either of their apartments would have felt too intimate. The lighthouse felt like neutral ground.

She shook the sand out of her fur and shifted, waiting for Jonah to catch up. He loped up, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, and pressed his head against her hand. Moira scratched the back of his ears.

“It doesn’t look like anyone has been here since we were at least,” Moira said, anxiously scanning the surrounding area.

She couldn’t forget the broken oar in the sand. It had the ominous feeling of a threat. The boarded up windows were still covered, and the others were closed. Jonah and Moira owned the only two keys for the lock on the door. So why couldn’t she shake the feeling that they were being watched?

The key turned easily in the new lock and she braced herself as the door swung open. Jonah slipped past her into the lighthouse and did a lap of the place, nose to the ground, before shifting back to human form.

“No one’s here.” He bounced on his toes, and she wondered if he’d been just as nervous about coming here as she had. “Coffee?”

He wandered into the kitchen and filled the kettle.

“No thanks,” she replied, resisting the urge to touch her hand to her stomach.

It was too soon for her to feel the baby or the taut swell of her stomach, but the gesture connected her to the life growing inside her. The life they’d created together, right there on that couch.

Following him into the kitchen, she propped herself up on the counter to watch him. She liked how the muscles in his forearms flexed as he gripped the kettle and poured the steaming water over the mug, and how his curls flopped forward onto his face when he tilted his head down. Oh no, she thought with horror, I really do have a crush on this man.

He caught her watching and smiled in that cocky way of his. She threw a dishtowel at him.

“Hot chocolate?” Jonah offered, catching the dishtowel with ease. He folded it neatly before rehanging it out of throwing range.

“Do you have marshmallows?” She asked.

Jonah pulled a bag of marshmallows from the cupboard, the tiny ones that reminded her of childhood, of nights tucked around the fire. “Of course I do.”

“Then yes,” she said, swinging her legs.

It was too easy to fall into a comfortable conversation with him and forget that she’d brought him there for a reason. Just the thought of telling him set her nerves back on fire. Now or never, she decided.

“Jonah,” she began, waiting for him to look up from the mug he was stirring warm milk into, “I’m pregnant.”

She watched the spoon swirl around in the mug once, twice, three times before he set it down. Moira braced herself. No matter what he said, she would be okay. She would be strong. She had to be, for the baby.

His face was unreadable. He drew closer to her, silent, eyes glued on her face. They dropped to her stomach.

“Pregnant?” He said, so quiet she read it from his lips more than heard it.

“Pregnant,” she repeated, squirming. She hadn’t expected silence as a reaction and it was making her, impossibly, even more nervous.

Jonah’s smile lit up his entire face. He caught her by surprise, wrapping her in a hug that lifted her off the counter and into his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively as he spun her around in the small kitchen.

When he set her down again, the world continued to spin, caught up in his apparent joy. There was no faking the glow around him, the reverence in his eyes when he softly touched his fingertips to her stomach.

“You’re not upset?” She still had to hear it to believe it. How could he not be angry about this? It would turn both of their lives upside down.

Jonah shook his head, incredulous. He caught her hands and kissed them. “How could I be upset? You’re my mate, Moira. A baby with you is all I could ever dream of.”

She threw her arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer, burying her face in his neck. “It’s just a business deal,” she said, muffled against his skin.

“Right, I know.” He rubbed his hands down her back. “And you know that even if you don’t want me in your life, I will support you and our child. Forever. You don’t need to worry about that.”

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