Page 18 of Impregnated By the Alpha

“Please,” she begged, just wanting him gone. She wanted the whole day over. “Just tell me what you came here for. I have things to do and—“

“And you hate my guts, I know. So you won’t like what I’m about to tell you.” He drew circles on the counter with his index finger, tracing the whorls in the woodgrain.

He was staying, wasn’t he? That was the worst news she could imagine. He had decided to stay in town, her new neighbor, and she’d have to face him every day. Jonah would witness her pathetic life in real time.

“Do you remember the soothsayer?” He asked, still not looking at her.

The old wolf had mystified her as a child. She’d hoped and prayed to be one of them, to have a magic inside of her that made her special, but hadn’t been surprised when she’d found out that was perfectly ordinary. Even then, she’d known that about herself.

“Yes,” she said, irritated. “And?”

“He stopped me in the cemetery.” Jonah let out a long, slow exhale.

Finally, he looked up at her, and she realized she was holding her breath and hanging on to his words. What is it, what is it? She repeated to herself, running through all of the possibilities, each more horrific than the last. None of them prepared her for what he said.

“And he told me we are fated mates,” Jonah said. Out loud. To her face.

Moira laughed. It bubbled out before she could stop it. It had to be a prank, just a cruel, sick joke that was exactly what she expected from him. Jonah wasn’t laughing, though. His face was strained.

“Look, I know it’s not what either of us wants, but the soothsayer is never wrong. You know that running from fate leads to terrible things.” Jonah’s voice was pitched low, pleading, and he leaned closer to Moira.

For a second, she didn’t see the bully from her childhood but a sad, desperate man. And she knew he was right. Trying to run from what the soothsayer foretold would only lead to trouble. There was no escaping fate. Still, she had no reason to believe that Jonah was telling the truth apart from his earnest face, and that was something she would never trust.

“You are the terrible thing,” Moira said. “I can’t imagine a fate worse than being tied to you.”

And she meant it. Whatever else life might throw at her, it was better than being Jonah’s mate.

He winced like she’d struck him. “There’s more to it. The soothsayer said the fate of the Silversand pack is somehow connected to us. If we aren’t mated and leading the pack together, something bad will happen to the pack.”

“Something bad already did happen to the pack. Your father.” But Moira’s conviction was crumbling.

She had grown up in the Silversand pack and loved it, despite its alpha’s neglect. She’d only left to escape Jonah. If ignoring the prophecy meant the downfall of the pack, was it worth it?

To his credit, Jonah didn’t argue. “You’re right. And I want to fix it. I mean, I want to run away and never look back so that I don’t have to face anyone. But I can’t do that. I can’t run away from this.”

It was clearly an argument he’d been having with himself for a while. She felt a pang of sadness for him, for the complicated legacy his father had left behind, then stifled it. If it were anyone else with that tortured look on their face, she’d have offered them a hot cup of tea and a pastry. Anyone else but Jonah.

“I’m a Rosewood now.” Moira reminded him.

She hoped she was coming off cool, detached. That the whirlwind of emotions inside of her was not written plainly across her face. She didn’t want him to see how the girl she’d been, lived just a few inches below the surface of the woman she was now.

“I know, I know. And you’d be doing me a favor, and that’s the last thing you want to do.” He sighed and ran his hand through his curls, tousling them. “Look, there must be something I can do to convince you. Something you want that I could provide. We don’t have to be real mates. It can be a… a business transaction.”

Moira opened her mouth to refuse, offended, then snapped it shut. She looked around the small bakery that she’d poured her hopes and dreams into. One thing might be worth tying herself to Jonah for, and she was standing in it.

Chapter 7 - Jonah

Jonah walked out of the bakery, the smell of sugar and vanilla clinging to him. He imagined that’s what Moira smelled like all the time, as sweet as she looked. Too bad she hated him. He kicked a rock down the sidewalk and yanked his hat back on, warding off the night’s creeping cold.

For a moment, it had seemed like she was going to agree to be his mate. When he’d offered her anything she’d wanted in exchange for it, she’d hesitated, her eyes softening as she looked around the bakery. But then they’d fallen on him, flashing ice-blue. She’d kicked him out with a warning not to come back.

The hurt that he’d inflicted on her so many years ago was still fresh to her. If he could go back in time, he would take back everything he had ever said to that fragile girl. He’d explain that he’d been a stupid, mean kid and that his teasing had nothing to do with flaws in her, but in him. If only he had a time machine.

He walked along the deserted main street until he reached the Hot Shots Cafe. Its blue siding was freshly painted. The windows were fogged, but he could make out a few figures moving around inside. The keys to the upstairs apartment were in his pocket, and there was an entrance around the side, but he wasn’t ready to be alone.

The coffee shop was warm and gently lit, with low lamplight in the corners casting a soft glow over the sofas and cozy chairs around the room. A neat, rectangular coffee bar sat at the far end, stacked with columns of white cups. A woman worked behind it, shaggy blonde hair swinging to cover her face as she pulled a shot.

Only a few of the chairs were occupied. A couple sat side-by-side on a mustard-colored velvet sofa, his arm around her shoulder. Jonah’s chest ached at the sight. He’d never know love like that. His mate, his future, was with a woman who would never love him. His inescapable fate was a loveless, lonely life.

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