Page 38 of The Alpha's Auctioned Pregnant Mate

Maybe it was the exhaustion, the lingering effects of the magic, or simply the unexpected kindness in Articus's eyes. Whatever the reason, Wren found herself speaking, words spilling out of her like water from a broken dam.

"I wasn’t always alone where the sun doesn’t shine. I started out with my parents," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "We were... happy, I think. As happy as rogues can be."

Articus leaned in, listening intently. Wren continued, the memories washing over her like a bittersweet tide.

"We were outcasts, of course, without a pack. But we had each other. That was enough." She paused, taking another sip of tea to steady herself. "My parents... they died when I was fifteen. After everything we had survived, they were killed by another rogue."

"There was this man," Wren continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "We'd known him since I was about ten. He was alone and had been for years. We saw him sometimes—tried to help when we could. But as time passed, he became... unstable. Dangerous."

Wren's hands trembled slightly, and Articus took the mug from her, setting it on the bedside table.

"One day, he just... snapped. He attacked us. My parents stayed behind to fight him off. They made me run." Her voice cracked, tears welling in her eyes. "I never saw them again."

"You don't know this," Wren said, a hint of bitterness creeping into her voice, "but for rogues, family becomes everything. When you're cast out from your pack, you lose your anchor. Your family becomes your new anchor, your new pack."

Understanding dawned on Articus's face. Wren pressed on, the words tumbling out faster now.

"When my parents died, I lost everything. My family, my pack, my anchor. I was truly alone." Her voice cracked, and she felt tears burning behind her eyes. "I've been holding onto hope, you know? Hope that I'd find someone, build a new family, a new pack, and avoid the madness. But now..."

That’s impossible now.

She trailed off, unable to finish the thought. Her dreams of finding her own place, her own family, seemed impossibly out of reach.

Articus reached out, hesitantly taking her hand. "Don't say that," he said softly. "You will find a new family. You’re stronger than you think. I promise you, Wren, I'll take care of you."

But Wren shook her head, the tears still falling. “I don’t feel strong,” she whispered. “I feel... broken.”

Yet, his words sparked something in her. A mix of gratitude, desperation, and a wild, reckless need. Before she could think better of it, she leaned forward and kissed him.

It was a fierce, desperate kiss, born out of a need to feel something, anything, other thanhelpless. She poured everything she had into that kiss, her hands gripping his shoulders as if he was all that was keeping her from falling apart completely.

For a moment, Articus kissed her back, his lips moving against hers with an intensity that matched her own. His lips were warm against hers, his hand tightening around hers.

But then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. He pulled away, his breathing heavy as he looked down at her, his eyes wide with surprise and something that looked like regret.

“Wren,” he said softly, his voice strained. “You don’t really want this. You’re too vulnerable right now, and I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret later.”

Wren felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment and rejection. She knew, logically, that he was right. She was emotional, traumatized, and not thinking clearly. But that knowledge did little to soothe the sting of his rejection.

You could just kiss me.

She pulled away, wrapping her arms around herself. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, unable to meet his eyes. "I don't know what I was thinking."

Articus reached out, lifting her chin so that she was looking at him. “You don’t have to apologize,” he said gently. “I care about you, Wren. And I want to make sure that if we do this, it’s because you really want it. Not because you’re hurting.”

Wren swallowed hard, her emotions a tangled mess inside her. As she looked into Articus’s eyes, she saw something there that made her pause. It wasn’t just concern or pity—it was something deeper, something she hadn’t expected to find in a man like him.

There was a tenderness in his gaze, a warmth that seemed to reach out and wrap around her, comforting her in a way that words never could.

Articus gently brushed a tear from her cheek, his touch so soft that it made her heart ache. “You’ve been through so much, Wren,” he said quietly. “But you’re not alone anymore. You have me. And I’m not going to let you go through this by yourself.”

His words were like a balm to her wounded soul, soothing the raw edges of her pain. But even as she felt a flicker of hope, the doubts continued to swirl in her mind.

“What if we can’t break the magic?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “What if I’m stuck like this forever?”

Articus’s grip on her hand tightened, his expression fierce. “We will find a way,” he said firmly. “I don’t care how long it takes or what we have to do. We’ll break the magic, and you’ll be free again. I promise you that.”

Wren’s heart twisted at the determination in his voice, and she found herself wanting to believe him, to trust that he could make everything right.

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