Mated to the Fallen Alpha

Raelynn's POV

When my eyes flutter open that morning, I can't help but smile. Why wouldn't I? Snuggled up in a cozy bed, wrapped in the embrace of the man I adore, and surrounded by the faint aroma of breakfast—it's a slice of heaven I never take for granted.

Even though these Sunday mornings have become our tradition, their magic never fades.

"You're awake?" Roldan's deep voice vibrates through his chest as his arms tighten protectively around me. I turn to face him, only to have my breath stolen for the countless time. His face, rugged and defined, is framed by untamed blond hair that somehow suits him perfectly. Those gentle, chocolate-brown eyes pierce straight through me, but it's the smile—endearing, full of love—that ensures he'll always own my heart.

"Good morning," I whisper, letting my arms loop around his neck.

Roldan leans in, and his lips meet mine with unhurried tenderness. The kiss is light, slow, as if the world outside doesn't exist and we have all the time in the universe. When he pulls away slightly, his breath brushes my lips. "Hello, Rae."

His kiss trails away from my mouth, grazing along my jaw, wandering down to my neck. Each press of his lips leaves a warmth in its wake.

"Roldan," I laugh softly. "Should we—"

He cuts me off with a cheeky flick of his tongue against the sensitive spot on my shoulder, right where he marked me as his forever. A familiar shiver races through me.

"Why not?" he murmurs, his voice low, teasing.

"Because," I reply between quiet giggles, "if we start this now, we’ll never leave this bed. Responsibilities, remember?"

He sighs dramatically, relents, and lowers himself back down with me tucked securely in his arms. But not before stealing one more kiss. "Fair. Still... I don’t want to fight like last night again."

The sincerity in his tone makes my chest tighten a little. I return his kiss, holding it longer, like I’m assuring him: me neither.

Lately, stress has crept into our lives in ways we hadn’t anticipated. With disputes brewing between our pack and the one next door, the strain has infiltrated our bond. To make matters worse, our struggles to conceive have added another layer of frustration. Both of us long for a pup—not just an heir for our pack, but for the joy of parenthood itself. Yet, the Moon Goddess hasn’t answered our earnest prayers.

Just last night, everything had boiled over. The words we threw at each other had cut deep, and it almost felt like we’d reached breaking point. Tears had ended what anger couldn’t, though, and seeing how much pain we caused each other reopened the door for understanding. The rest of our night was spent huddled by the fireplace, piecing things back together, bit by bit.

“It’s been a rough time,” Roldan says now, his voice soft as he rests against my neck. "But we’ll get through it. We always do."

I nod, letting his confidence in us ease the lingering doubts I carry. Wrapped in his arms, the world feels simpler, even if just for those brief moments. But eventually, reality catches up, and we force ourselves out of bed. Sundays may feel sacred, but being Alpha and Luna means duty always comes first.

As usual, Roldan finishes getting ready faster than I do. Already at the door, his voice floats to me over the sound of running water. "Be ready for lunch. Meet me in the foyer. We’re going out."

The thought fills me with instant excitement. We hadn’t been on a proper date in weeks, and the idea of escaping our daily grind even for a small while lifts my spirits.

"You mean it?" I call out.

"I do," he teases, suddenly close enough to plant a quick kiss on my cheek. "See you soon, baby."

"See you soon," I answer, warmth blooming in my chest as I watch him dash out the door.

Once the house falls quiet, my focus shifts to my own to-do list for the day. If I want to make it back in time for our special lunch, I’ll need to be quick. I mentally map out my tasks as I freshen up, but my plan falters when a wave of dizziness knocks me off balance. My stomach churns violently moments later, and I rush to the bathroom just in time to vomit.

Breathing heavily, I sit back against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall, confused. I haven’t felt this sick in years. Could it have been last night’s dinner? No. My wolf senses are far too sharp for me to have missed anything off in the food.

Then my attention drifts to the sink cabinet, specifically the second drawer. Sitting there, untouched for months, is a pregnancy test. Deep down, I feel a pang of doubt. After all, with how strained things have been, intimacy between Roldan and me has been sporadic at best. If all our dedicated attempts to conceive failed, what are the odds now?

Yet something urges me forward. That instinctual nudge won’t leave me alone.

"What’s the harm?" I mutter, grabbing the box. I go through the motions, convinced I know the answer. As the test sits on the counter developing, I busy myself with makeup, distracting my mind with mundane tasks.

By the time I finish and return to check the result, I’ve already braced myself for the familiar disappointment. Two years of negative tests have trained me to expect failure.

But when I lift it and glance at the result, my breath catches in my throat.

Two lines. Not one.

Two.