Page 35 of The Alpha's Auctioned Pregnant Mate

Articus broke free from Rowan's grip and rushed to Wren's side. Her skin was clammy, and her breathing was shallow and rapid. Her eyes met his—they were unfocused, filled with pain and terror.

"Wren? Wren, can you hear me?" Articus asked, his voice rough with concern.

Before she could respond, Wren's body heaved. Articus barely had time to help her lean to the side before she vomited violently onto the expensive carpet.

"Oh god," Articus muttered, his arm around Wren's trembling shoulders. He looked up, his blue eyes blazing.

Articus called for his butler, Edward, his voice sharp with urgency. A servant came out following a ring from the elderly man and hurried in to clean up the mess.

Articus gently lifted Wren into his arms. She felt so small, so fragile against his chest, her body still shaking.

He carried her to a nearby chaise lounge, settling her gently onto the soft cushions. Her eyes were closed now, her face ghostly pale, a sheen of sweat on her brow.

Shit, shit, shit.

She collapsed into his arms, her entire body limp and weak. Articus could feel the rapid thumping of her heart against his chest, her shallow breaths warm against his neck. He glanced up at Juniper, his eyes dark with worry.

“What was that?” he demanded, his voice low but filled with a barely restrained anger.

Juniper’s face was pale, her eyes slowly returning to their normal black. She looked exhausted, a bead of sweat trickling down her temple. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I had to try.”

"What did you see?" Rowan asked, his usual joviality replaced by a serious, almost grim expression.

Juniper shook her head, her long black hair swaying with the movement. "It's... it's unlike anything I've ever encountered. The spell, it's not just on her body. It's bound to her soul."

Articus felt his blood run cold. "What does that mean?"

What kind of twisted magic is this?

"It means," Juniper said slowly, "that I can't break it. At least, not without killing her."

The room fell silent, the weight of Juniper's words settling over them like a heavy blanket. Articus looked down at Wren, watching the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. She looked so vulnerable, so hurt, and it was all because of him.

"There has to be something," Articus insisted, his voice rough with emotion. "Some way to break it without harming her."

Juniper's eyes were filled with sympathy as she met Articus's gaze. “I’m sorry, Articus. The magic is ancient and powerful. It’s designed to ensure absolute control over the victim. The only way to sever that bond is if you mark her or upon her death.”

"That's it?" Articus asked, disbelief coloring his tone. "There's no other way? No loophole, no more powerful witch who could break it?"

Juniper shook her head. "The laws of this magic are set, Articus. It's not about power; it's about the nature of the spell. It's designed to be unbreakable except under those specific conditions."

Articus ran a hand through his white hair, frustration and helplessness warring inside him. He looked down at Wren again, watching as her eyelids fluttered open. Her hazel eyes, usually so bright and defiant, were clouded with pain and fear.

"A-Articus?" she whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming.

"I'm here," he said softly, taking her hand in his. He was surprised by how natural the gesture felt, how much he wanted to comfort her. "How are you feeling?"

Wren tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness seemed to overtake her, and she fell back against the cushions. "Like I've been hit by a truck," she mumbled. Then, her eyes widening with sudden recollection, she asked, "Did it work? Is the spell broken?"

The hope in her voice made Articus's heart clench. But before he could speak, Juniper stepped forward. "Wren," she said gently, "I'm so sorry, but I couldn't break the spell. It's... it's more complicated than we thought."

Juniper exchanged a glance with Articus before continuing. "The spell is bound to your soul, Wren. It's not just on your body. The only ways to break it are... well, either Articus marks you or..."

"Or I die," Wren finished, her voice barely above a whisper.

Articus felt her hand tighten in his, her knuckles turning white with the force of her grip. He wanted to say something, anything to comfort her, but words failed him.

"Is there really nothing else you can do?" Articus asked Juniper again, desperation creeping into his voice.

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