Page 1 of Pregnant By the Alpha Wolf

Chapter 1 - Willow

If I could hunt the Order of Reclamation down with nothing but fury and stubbornness, I would have done it by now. But science is my only weapon, and every night I spend in this cold, damp lab only serves to remind me that answers can’t come fast enough to stop the hunters from regrouping and striking again. They appear to be relentless.

The lab feels noticeably colder tonight, or maybe it’s just the thoughts I can’t shake that are making the world feel colder. I trace my fingertip along the edge of a microscope, trying to lose myself in the familiar details of my work even though my frustrations often threatened to overwhelm me.

Every now and then, my tired eyes drift up to the wall littered with printouts of research—an endless stream of new data about shifters and their half-human counterparts, the Völva, like me. The hunters always appear to be one step ahead. They seem to know us better than we know ourselves, but apparently not enough to stem their hatred. For all of our research, I can’t really explain why we’re being hunted.

The same picture always draws my attention: a faded Polaroid of my parents taken before the tragedy that had changed everything. My parents at a picnic, smiling brightly under a tree. My strong and kind-hearted dad grilling burgers on the barbecue while my mom watches with love in her eyes. They looked so carefree and happy together—two halves of a whole torn apart by hate. I can’t help but look at the fifteen-year-old version of myself, smiling back from the picture, so naive of what was about to happen. The pain of their loss still feels so fresh, despite the years that have passed since that fateful night when hunters finally caught up with them, and my world changed forever.

My phone buzzed suddenly, jolting me back to reality. Glancing down at the screen, a text from Kenzie reminded me I'd promised to think about joining her, Senna, and Kit for a drink tonight. It was hard enough getting them all in one place with them being from different packs, and it was supposed to be tonight.Is it really Saturday already?I haven’t even noticed time slipping by as I lost myself in thoughts of the newly discovered Völva connections and the ongoing threat from the Order. The idea of stepping away from my work for even an hour feels impossible, but I know that’s exactly why Kenzie is pestering me to do it.

The truth is, I don’t even want to stop. The lab's resources are so limited that every new study is time-consuming, and with barely any tangible help, reworking their previous knowledge around shifters and humans is taking longer than anyone anticipated. Each pack’s DNA seemed to throw up more questions than answers. When I stopped to consider how many centuries had passed with shifters who were unable to shift or presented differently and had been shunned by their packs instead of appreciated as a vital part of their future, it broke my heart. Part human had once been considered a slur, and packs kept themselves insulated to prevent their blood from being diluted. Turning that mindset around is a daunting task, but slowly, it’s taking root.

I know my research is central to helping all shifters; the illness cutting shifters down long before their peak with strange fevers, low birth rates, and the loss of wolves in previously dominant shifters, among other issues, had affected not only our pack but, no doubt, many others. Knowing the hunters were part of an ancient order that has been trying to kill shifters for over a thousand years was as startling as it was humbling.

I'm scratching at the surface with so much still to discover. The Alpha Council wants and needs answers, but progress is agonizingly slow.

As if sensing my hesitation, my phone buzzes again, this time with a voice note from Senna. Not really needing to press play to know what the luna will say, I steel myself before putting the message on the speaker:

“Hey girl, we know how busy you are,and everyone appreciates it so much, but you need a break! We really hope you can make it—everyone’s meeting at the Roadhouse. In the spirit of interpack relations, the guys are babysitting, and we’re drinking margaritas—well, those of us who aren’t pregnant, of course! But seriously, you can’t keep working like this. You need a distraction… and I think we can find something for you at the Roadhouse!”

Despite the urge to groan, I can’t help but smirk. I know exactly what Senna is implying; it’s nothing I haven’t heard from Kenzie and Kit, too. They are all loved up with their mates and think everyone else should find happiness, too. It’s a nice sentiment, but I’m far too busy to bother looking for a man. And happiness? That seems even more elusive. After losing my family and all the violence and revelations of the past few years, finding a mate is the last thing on my mind.

The truth was, no man has ever interested methat way.Growing up, I felt like an outsider, which probably made me wary of connecting with anyone. Many of the Völva have mentioned feeling the same. I bizarrely consider myself fortunate because my scientific intellect has obviously made me more useful, so I’ve often been spared the worst consequences and discrimination, but I’ve still felt it. Through my research, I’ve recently spent more time with other Völva and shifters and heard their stories. Clearly, there are still a lot ofmisunderstandings and wronged Völva within their packs, and there is still a lot more work to do.

My new friendships with the lunas give me some hope, though. Times are certainly changing. That doesn’t mean I want Senna, Kenzie, and Kit to start setting me up with random shifters at the Roadhouse on the off chance one of them might be my mate.

I grab my phone and send a quick photo of my lab with papers scattered everywhere and my microscope:

Sorry! I’ve started some new slides, and they’ll be ruined if I stop now. I will definitely come next time.

Not entirely a lie. The slides would be ruined if I left them out.

A flurry of texts come back from the women, all expressing how sorry they are that I can’t make it. I read each one and feel a warmth deep inside. I know I can come across as abrupt, even a little cold at times. I’m not even sure people like me, but these new friendships are helping me open up a bit more. It’s been getting easier, and deep down, I do feel happier for gradually letting more people in.

I reply again to say I won’t miss the next time. And I mean it…as long as I actually do make some progress here first. It feels like an uphill battle, though, when I don’t always know what I’m looking for; all the previous research is half complete or missing vital data. Our historical pack records and books fill in some gaps, but we know far too little about ourselves.

Returning my attention to the slides, I flick through the labels on the latest batch. Only one pack—the Nicholson pack—had failed to submit blood samples on time.

I sigh, trying to calm my racing brain.

Their alpha, Rowan, had been evasive when I called him about their lack of samples. He’d given one excuse after another before ensnaring me in one of the best conversations I’ve had about my research since starting—he was asking genuinely amazing questions. By the time I hung up, I felt reenergized…right up until I realized he hadn’t told me anything about the missing samples. He did that to me every time we spoke, which admittedly hasn’t been very many. But he can wrap me up in some kind of intense, irresistible redirection and then disappear. It’s infuriating. And intoxicating.

The Nicholson pack is one of the oldest packs in existence, and they have a reputation for being secretive and aloof. I can’t help but wonder if that also extends to me researching their bloodlines.

Everything about the alpha bewilders me. His long black hair and iridescent pale skin are enough to make any shifter stop and stare, yet there’s something…different about him. Something that goes beyond his looks. He moves with almost predatory grace, like he knows things no one else does, or maybe he just exudes that kind of confidence that comes from knowing you’re better than everyone else.

My alpha, Kaiden, mentioned that all the other alphas agree Rowan is different somehow. He always seems to be two steps ahead. The situation with the Order seems to frustrate him on an intellectual level more than any of the other alphas. This makes his apparent reluctance to share their DNA even stranger because I know the more DNA we study, the more answers we’ll find to help in the fight. Whatever his deal was, he manages to send shivers down my spine whenever I think about him. Which is often.

He looks at me like he knows me better than anyone in the world, which is ridiculous because I’ve only met him afew times, and deep down, I know the look in his eyes should actually scare me. Instead, it draws me closer. And every time I see him, I can't help but think about his magnetic personality and the way he makes me feel when he speaks. I barely know him, but I already find myself thinking about him more than I should. It was as if he had somehow wormed his way into my mind; not only is he dominating my thoughts, but he is also messing with my research by not providing the samples he’s promised. I try to force my thoughts back to the slides in front of me, but it's useless.

Annoyed with myself, I push my chair back and head for the small kitchenette. The lab itself isn’t in great condition. Many of the machines are outdated, useless for this kind of work, or simply broken. The kitchenette is actually just an old table pushed against the wall in a side room with a stove and a small refrigerator. Skipping the selection of herbal teas Kenzie dropped off a couple of weeks ago, which Forrest loves, I go straight for the hot chocolate. I hesitate briefly before scooping out the dark velvet powder.

“Now is no time to worry about my diet,” I mutter to myself as I wait for the water to heat, and then slowly mix the two until I can smell the familiar, warm, comforting aroma.

I know I’m curvier than the average shifter, and being so short, it seems even more emphasized. I wear my lab coat like armor at times; I think people find it harder to judge with my clinical exterior, and by choosing an oversized fit, I can cover my admittedly impressive cleavage completely. It probably makes me look even shorter, but I don’t care; the lab is my world, and I can dress however I want here. And enjoy my hot chocolate in peace.

In a world that has rejected me for both being a shifter and not having a wolf, leaning into the reasoned world of scienceand facts is a relief. I feel valued here, not as though I don’t live up to some invisible standard in the shifter community—one that values the wolf, strength, and beauty above all. Unable to live in the human world after what happened to my mother, it sometimes feels like I inhabit a half-world. Meeting Kenzie, Kit, and Senna has helped me feel more accepted, but I do wonder if I’ll ever find true peace the way they seem to have done.

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