Page 20 of Pregnant By the Alpha Wolf

They fall silent for a moment before Kit speaks up again. "You’re going to have to describe what you mean, because that sounds like more than the bond. It could be a Völva thing?”

I try my best to describe the realism and intensity of my dreamscapes, minus the sex. After a back and forth, they confirm what I suspected; my dreamscapes are not a normalpart of the shifter bond. But is it Rowan who isdifferent?Or is it my Völva magic?

“I actually saw a whole passage on telepathy in one of the texts.” Kenzie offers. “I don’t think it said much, but with your experience, I’ll give it another look.”

“Thanks, Kenzie, I appreciate it,” I reply sincerely.

We say our goodbyes, and I hang up, more grateful than ever for their friendship. After losing so much and insulating myself from the world, I never imagined I’d have the support I have now.

It’s getting late, and I wander through the lab, heading to the PCR room for the latest batch of cross-referenced results to collect them before anyone else. I don’t want it to appear as though I’m focusing too heavily on the Nicholson data, but there do appear to be some mutations that could be significant. Perhaps it’s connected to their previously more extreme isolation, or links to the Old World have created differences in their genetic makeup, but some of them have cells that regenerate even faster than normal. Other mutations appear linked to eyesight and speed, which reminds me of the day I realized Rowan was watching the eagle long before I could see it.

I expected the file to be left on the tray as usual, but I’m surprised to find it empty. There’s no way someone picked it up before me, I made sure to time it perfectly.Perhaps they forgot to print it out, I consider as I load the data on the workstation so I can take it back to the cabin with me. I am hoping I can discuss the results with Rowan, and he may finally open up more. I suspect he has more to say about some of my findings, yet he simply listens rather than talks. His thoughts are always insightful but never specific.

The data file is empty. Assuming I’ve made a mistake, I close the file and reload. I know it should be here, because I set it to run this morning, and even checked its progress a few hours ago. I wait a moment for confirmation that it is definitely not there.

Confused, I head back to the machine to reset the samples so they can run again. But what I find makes me freeze. The samples are gone. On the floor, I notice a broken slide. These have been deliberately removed.

The question is, were the samples completed before the slides were taken? What were the results? And who would do this?

I suddenly regret staying late as I glance around the lab and feel my senses bristle. Hardly anyone is left in the lab, but I can hear the occasional footstep and machines either working or being closed down. I know the medical clinic has already closed because Sara came over to say goodbye earlier. The darkness of the clinic suddenly feels ominous.

I try to shake my rising fear, straightening my back and attempting not to look as ruffled as I feel in case whoever did it is watching somehow. I write a note and leave it at the workstation, asking whoever is in first to look for the samples. I don’t think they’ll find them, though; this was deliberate.

I head back to my office and casually pack my bag, adding a few extra files I suddenly don’t want to leave lying around, even with my office door locked. When I step back out into the hallway, I feel the unmistakable sensation of being watched. Although I have no wolf, I still have enhanced senses, and every single one of them is screaming to be on high alert.

Have I let my guard down too much here? Am I too blinded by Rowan and my research? I fumble for my phone, bring up Rowan’s number, and press call.

The line connects instantly, and I hear his deep, concerned voice. “What’s wrong? I can feel your stress.” I hear the sound of his footsteps. “I’m coming now.”

Not wanting to alert anyone who might be listening or watching, I try to force some lightness into my tone, “Oh, I’m just leaving now. Are you home?”

Not buying it for a second, Rowan replies, “I’m nearly with you, love. Just keep walking.”

I look up as I approach the door and see him striding toward it, his jaw set in determination as we reach the entrance at the same time. He pulls me into an embrace. Only once I’m safe in his arms do I realize how much my heart is pounding in my chest. Immediately, I feel his warmth seep into my bones, his heart regulating mine, his breath against my hair soothing my racing mind.

“Love, what’s wrong?” he asks, pulling away slightly and sweeping his gaze over me to see that I’m okay.

I shake my head and move down the steps with him close to my side. “N-not here. Let’s go home, okay?”

He studies me for a second, and then, understanding, he nods and takes my heavy bag from me. Wordlessly, we walk across the square to his cabin. Once inside, I finally feel like I can breathe.

Pouring me a hot drink, he guides me to the kitchen island and brushes the hair from my face. “Now, tell me who has upset you so I can kill them.”

I almost want to laugh, but as I look up, I see his expression is like stone, and he is deadly serious. I reach out, taken aback at how tense his body is, his wolf burning brightly in his eyes. “I-I don’t even know.”

“But I could sense the threat,” he says, cupping my cheek. “I was already on my way when you called. I couldfeelyou needed me.”

We stare at each other for a moment. “The bond?” I ask.

He doesn’t reply; he doesn’t have to. We both know it’s true.

“But it didn’t tell me why you were scared, love,” he eventually says, his tone a little lighter.

I take a breath and begin to explain the data files being empty, the samples missing, and the slide being broken. “I’m not crazy, Rowan. That data has been taken, and I felt watched, as though someone was waiting to see what I would do once I realized.”

Rowan looks thoughtful, “I don’t think you’re crazy. Tell me, though, if anything else has happened. No matter how small.”

I think back, and only one incident stands out. “One of the first batches of data went missing. Well, not like this, just the printouts. It was strange, but we made another copy. The original never did turn up.”

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