Page 55 of The Alpha's Auctioned Pregnant Mate

But even as she basked in the warmth of their growing closeness, a nagging thought wormed its way into her mind, sudden and overwhelming.

He hasn’t marked me yet.

The thought hit her like a bucket of cold water, dampening the cozy atmosphere.

Why not? She wondered, her fork pausing halfway to her mouth. In fact, he should have marked her from the beginning. Maybe he didn’t want to mark her at first because of the whole slave thing, but now things were going well. He should mark her—or at least ask if he could. But he hadn’t.

Does he not want to?

The question echoed in her mind, bringing with it a surge of insecurity. At first, she’d thought it was because he didn’t want her, didn’t see her as worthy of being his mate. But now… now things were different. They’d grown closer, and still, he hadn’t marked her.

Or maybe he just doesn’t feel the same way I do.

The idea was almost too painful to contemplate, but she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about it. Wren forced herself to continue eating, to nod and smile at appropriate moments, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

She found her eyes drawn to the strong line of his jaw, the curve of his lips as he smiled, the intensity in his blue eyes.Her heart fluttered in her chest, a sensation that was becoming increasingly familiar.

Oh no, I’m falling in love with him.

The realization hit her like a physical blow. The thought was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

What if he doesn’t love me back?

He had said he was serious about her and was falling for her, but he hadn’t actually used the wordlove.Wren's mind raced. She thought about all the little moments that had led to this, his determination to help her, the way he listened when she spoke, really listened, their dates, and making love over and over again.

But if it meant something to him, why hasn't he marked me?

The question gnawed at her. Was she reading too much into things? Did he see her as nothing more than a responsibility, a problem to be solved?

Wren's gaze dropped to her plate, her appetite suddenly gone. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she almost missed Articus calling her name.

"Wren? Are you alright?" His voice was laced with concern, bringing her attention back to the present.

She looked up, meeting his worried gaze. For a moment, she considered spilling everything—her fears, her growing feelings, her confusion about the lack of marking. But the words stuck in her throat.

"I'm fine," she said instead, forcing a smile. "Just... thinking about everything Cassius said. It's a lot to take in."

Articus nodded, his expression softening. "It is," he agreed. "But you're handling it all remarkably well."

His praise warmed her, even as it twisted the knife of uncertainty deeper. If only you knew, she thought, her smile becoming a bit more genuine.

As they finished their breakfast and cleared the table together, Wren's mind continued to churn. The intimacy they had shared only made his lack of marking more confusing, more painful. Each time they had come together, a part of her had hoped, had yearned for his teeth at her neck, for that final claim. But each time, she had been left wanting.

She watched him as he loaded the dishwasher, his movements efficient and graceful. As his head turned to her, Wren plastered a smile on her face and pushed her doubts aside.

For now, she would focus on enjoying their time together and getting to know Articus better. The rest, she decided, would sort itself out in time. She just hoped her heart wouldn't be collateral damage in the process.

Chapter 18 - Articus

Articus stood at the floor-to-ceiling window of his study, a crystal tumbler of aged scotch dangling from his fingers. The amber liquid caught the late afternoon sunlight, creating golden reflections on the polished mahogany desk behind him.

His ice-blue eyes scanned the lush forest that surrounded the house. His mind, however, was far from the serene scene before him.

I've fallen for her. Hard.

The realization had been creeping up on him for days, maybe even weeks. But now, as he stood there thinking about Wren, there was no denying it anymore. The way she smiled, the sound of her laughter, the fierce determination in her hazel eyes when she set her mind to something—all of it had wormed its way into his heart.

But with that realization came a crushing wave of guilt. Wren hadn't chosen this life. She hadn't chosen him. She was here because he had bought her, rescued her from a terrible fate, yes, but still—she had no real choice in the matter.

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