Page 44 of The Alpha's Auctioned Pregnant Mate

They headed out to his car, a sleek black SUV that probably cost more than everything she'd ever owned put together. As they drove, Articus kept up a steady stream of conversation, pointing out landmarks and sharing little anecdotes about pack life.

She tried to engage, to show interest, but she couldn't shake the melancholy that had been dogging her for days.

"That's where I had my first shift," he said, gesturing to a clearing they passed. "I was so nervous, but my dad—the previous Alpha— just smiled and told me to trust my instincts." Articus's voice softened with nostalgia. "I'll never forget the feeling of running on four legs for the first time, the wind in my fur..."

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Her first shift had been a terrifying, lonely experience—no supportive family, no guidance, just pain and confusion and fear. The contrast between their experiences was just another reminder of how different their worlds were.

Eventually, they turned onto a winding road that led up into the mountains. The trees pressed close on either side, their leaves a vibrant tapestry of reds and golds. The beauty of it took her breath away, and for a moment, she forgot her worries, leaning forward to take in the view.

"It's beautiful," she murmured, almost to herself.

Articus glanced at her, a soft smile playing on his lips. "It is. But not as beautiful as—" He cut himself off, clearing his throat.

"I thought we could go to one of my favorite spots," he explained, his cheeks slightly flushed. "There's a great view of the valley from up here. And," he added with a grin that made her heart flutter, "it looks like the rain might hold off after all."

Sure enough, by the time they reached their destination—a small clearing near the edge of a cliff—the clouds had parted, allowing weak sunlight to filter through.

The air was crisp and clean, filled with the scent of damp earth and pine. Articus spread out a blanket and began unpacking a picnic basket she hadn't even noticed he'd brought.

"I wasn't sure what you'd like," he said, laying out an array of sandwiches, fruits, and pastries. "So I got a bit of everything."

The gesture was so thoughtful it made her chest ache. Why was he being so nice to her? Was it just pity? Obligation because of the circumstances that brought her here? She wanted to believe it was more, but years of disappointment and betrayal had taught her to be cautious.

They sat and ate, the view spreading out before them—rolling hills, patches of forest, and, in the distance, the glint of sunlight on water.

It was breathtaking, but she couldn't fully appreciate it. Her mind kept circling back to all the questions and doubts she'd been harboring.

"This sandwich is delicious," she said, trying to break the silence that had fallen between them. "Did you make it?"

Articus chuckled, the sound warm and rich. "I wish I could take credit, but no. There's a little deli in town that makes the best sandwiches. I'll have to take you there sometime."

The casual way he talked about future plans sent a thrill through her, quickly followed by a wave of anxiety. Did he really mean it, or was he just being polite?

"Wren?" Articus's voice broke through her thoughts, concern evident in his tone. "Is everything okay? You seem... I don't know, distant today."

She stared down at her half-eaten sandwich, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm fine," she muttered, hating how unconvincing she sounded even to her own ears.

"Wren." His tone was gentle but firm, reminding her of his authority as an Alpha without being overbearing. "Please. If I've done something to upset you—"

"You haven't," she interrupted, then sighed. "It's not... it's not you. It's me. I just..." She trailed off, unsure how to put her jumbled thoughts into words.

How could she explain that she was terrified of the feelings growing inside her, of the way he made her want things she'd never allowed herself to want before?

Articus was quiet for a moment, and she could feel the weight of his gaze on her. Then, hesitantly, he reached out and placed his hand over hers. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through her body, and it took all her willpower not to gasp.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me," he said softly. "I want to help if I can. You're part of a pack now, Wren. You don't have to face your troubles alone anymore."

His words, so sincere and full of warmth, broke something open inside her. Before she could stop herself, the question that had been haunting her for days came tumbling out. "Do you... I mean, am I... do you not find me attractive?"

Fuck.

As soon as the words left her lips, she wanted to take them back. She sounded pathetic, needy. This wasn't her. She'd never cared what anyone thought of her before.

So why did Articus's opinion matter so much? She tried to pull her hand away, to retreat into herself, but Articus tightened his grip, keeping her anchored to him.

Articus looked stunned, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "What? Wren, of course, I—why would you think that?"

He didn’t answer.

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