Page 42 of Rejected and Pregnant by the Lycan King

“If you lose any more weight, I’m taking you to the clinic, where they will pump you full of food and fluids,” Charlotte grumbled, steadying me as she helped me to my feet. Her grip was firm, her resolve even firmer. “You are under my care now, and you aren’t dying on my watch.”

I saw myself in the mirror, and the sight of my ghostly form made my stomach twist. Whatever little weight I had clung towas gone. Even during my time with the Ironhide pack, I had never lost weight—if anything, the constant chores had kept me steady, building just enough muscle to fool myself that I was growing stronger. But strength had never truly been mine. My lycan remained weak, unchanged, and the muscle I had gained was nothing more than what a small human could wield.

“It’s not like I enjoy this,” I muttered as I wiped the vomit from my mouth with the back of my hand. “Everything I eat just comes right back up.”

I was so weakened by the weight I had lost and the relentless drain of energy that my legs refused to carry me. The nausea was bittersweet. Despite draining my strength, it meant the baby was still there, still holding on.

“What have you been craving? Maybe if you give the pup what it wants, it’ll finally stay down.”

That was a good question. Every scent twisted my stomach into knots, causing agony. Even thinking of food churned my insides, forcing up the bile that lingered in the pit of my stomach. And once that sour, bitter taste hit, the cycle started all over again, triggering another violent, unrelenting wave of nausea.

Every thought sent my stomach into turmoil, rolling with unease. Everything sounded disgusting to me, even water. I could only shake my head as she slipped her arm under mine. She steadied me and guided me toward the bed, but I knew it wouldn’t bring any comfort.

“Kylie, we have to make your pup understand that you need to eat if they want a chance to be born.”

I smiled slightly at her joke as I gazed down at my stomach. There wasn’t much of a bump yet, but there was definitely a baby in there. My lycan reveled in the sensation, clinging to the fragile life we carried. With what little strength she had, she wrapped her essence around the womb, a protective embrace meant to reassure our pup. I could feel its heartbeat pulsing alongside mine—a steady rhythm, a quiet promise of resilience. Only two months in, and already the pup’s strength was a comfort. Or at least, what I guessed was two months; I had no way of knowing exactly when it had begun.

“Is there any way to make a pup listen to their mother before birth? If we could figure that out, it’d be a miracle. I’d do anything to stop my stomach from turning itself inside out every single day.”

“We need to figure out why your lycan isn’t at full strength. Sometimes I worry that you won’t survive this.”

I knew she didn’t mean any harm, but her words sliced right through me. Charlotte had become the mother I never had; she had a warm and welcoming presence that I adored. The concern she showed was more than I had ever dared to hope for, more than I had seen in anyone outside of Amara. I didn’t know how to hold on to this kindness shown to me, but I knew it was what I had always needed.

I knew lycans could endure the strain of carrying their pups, but none faced the same condition I did. Without understanding what had stunted my lycan’s growth, we were left grasping in the dark, uncertain of what this meant for me—or the life I carried. Even the doctor at the clinic had no answers, only the same uncertain glances and empty reassurances.

No one could tell me.

How could I convince myself I would endure this when I didn’t even know I could survive anything without my lycan? She had always been my strength, the anchor I relied on, and now I was left hollow without her. Her absence made me feel fragile in a way I had never experienced before. Surviving without her seemed impossible, yet I was now forced to try to live on without her.

The only certainty I had was this—without my lycan, I was nothing more than human. And if I was human, there was no way I could endure this. The child inside me drained my strength relentlessly, feeding off me like a vampire, leaving nothing behind but exhaustion and frailty.

The thought struck me like a noose around my neck as I struggled for breath. My chest tightened as if a car were parked on my ribcage. The air felt too thin, too distant. I gasped, grasping at it, but it wasn’t enough. Charlotte steadied me, guiding me into a chair, her grip firm on my shoulders. The world blurred and faded into something unreal and distant. The questions in my mind swirled frantically.

How could I possibly survive this?

If my pup was stronger than me, would I even survive its birth? What if it drained everything I had before it ever took its first breath? The thought was too heavy to ignore. It felt inevitable that bringing life into this world would cost my own. Giving birth would become yet another sacrifice to something beyond my control. And for what? A child born to a man who despised me? If I didn’t make it, who would be left to raise them, to give them the love I never had?

Charlotte and Nathaniel could raise my pup. They would keep it safe—unless Maximus came for them. Amara might have wanted to keep my pregnancy a secret, but if Maximus demanded the truth, she would have to tell him. No one could deny him. The alpha’s word was law, and Maximus, as the king of alphas, was impossible to deceive. No one could lie to him, even if they wanted to.

“Charlotte, I’m scared,” I murmured in a fragile voice, barely holding together. “How do I become strong enough to face this? I want to meet my child—raise them, give them more than I ever had. That’s what every mother wants, isn’t it?” My fingers curled against my stomach, searching for comfort in the quiet presence growing within. It was too soon to feel them move, but I had to hold on long enough to witness that first flutter. “How do I survive this?”

Charlotte knelt beside me, bowing her head in quiet contemplation. “That’s a difficult question,” she admitted. “With your lycan not at full strength, everything is more uncertain. Our kind can heal from almost anything during pregnancy. We can even borrow strength from our young.” Her hand rested gently against my stomach. “Your pup is strong, but I don’t know if your lycan will accept the idea of siphoning energy from them. That choice won’t be easy.”

Absolutely not. They need their energy.

We need it to survive as well.

“Kylie, I hate to ask, but I need to know. Who is the father of your pup?”

My blood ran cold. This wasn’t a question I wanted to face. Charlotte and Nathaniel had once been alphas, and they understood better than anyone the weight of an heir. It was the unspoken expectation woven into their kind. Yet, they had chosen a different path, rejecting the traditions they were born into, turning their backs on the titles that bound them. That was why they had come here—to the rogue territory, to carve out a life separate from the rules that had shaped them.

It wouldn’t stop them from revealing my secret if Maximus came demanding answers. They wouldn’t be able to withhold the truth from him. No one defied the king of alphas or denied him what he wanted.

Maximus was a powerful king. So powerful that I didn’t feel safe admitting he was the father of this pup. His influence stretched too far, his reach too absolute. There was no telling what would happen if the truth ever left my lips.

“It’s better if you don’t know.”

“That’s not what I asked, Kylie,” she said firmly. “Any male would want to know he has a pup out there. Our kind loves fiercely—our females, our young—even more so. He has to be losing his mind knowing you walked away with his pup growing inside you.”

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