Alpha's Regret: Chasing My Pregnant Luna

Ivy's POV

"The Lycan King's wrath knows no bounds and once again, he has proven that he is the most feared being in the kingdom!" A pale-faced anchor reports on the television screen behind me.

"The King's betrothed was confirmed to be tragically killed during a robbery at a bridal shop last week," the anchor continues.

At those words, my fingers stumble over the bottle of foundation I am trying to pick up. A sharp pain slices through my chest as I whip my head towards the screen.

The robbery.

Scenes of people screaming, men in masks and chaos everywhere flash in front of eyes in a panicked haze.

It was one of the worst days of my life.

Tears form in my eyes as I look at the picture of the golden-haired woman on the screen. The Lycan King's betrothed wears a kind smile much like what she was wearing when I last saw her in the robbery.

Ever since the day of the robbery, I have been compulsively checking news about her, hoping and praying that she survives.

Now, the confirmation of her death hits me like a brutal blow.

This world isn't fair.

How could I miraculously survive that night and she couldn't?

The thought brings a wave of sadness through me, and tears prick my eyes.

Suddenly, the image on the screen changes, and I freeze.

Now, the camera is zooming in on the face of the king.

Jet black hair falls in thick waves to his shoulders, framing a short rough beard that accentuates his chiseled jaw. But it's his eyes that send a shudder through me - glacial blue, like ice piercing into your soul, devoid of warmth or mercy. Rumor has it that he stole the throne from his father and imprisoned his mother. His very presence radiates danger, and even through the screen, I can feel the menace he exudes.

The anchor's shaky voice plays in the back.

"Rogues were said to be responsible for the attack, and King Alexander has vowed not to spare anyone involved in her death."

The screen shifts to show graphic images - blood splattered walls, bodies torn apart with savage force. The brutality is unimaginable. The anchor's voice quivers as she describes the scene. I stare at the screen, unable to tear my eyes away from the horror displayed.

"Reports indicate that he has already dealt with most of the rogues responsible ... except one. There is one culprit whose identity is unknown. All we know is that the Lycan king is coming for him."

Once again, the camera pans towards the king standing in the middle of the carnage. He casually takes out a handkerchief and wipes away the blood on his hands. Then, slowly, he lifts his face and stares straight into the camera.

A shiver runs through my spine. The king's predatory accusing stare seems to penetrate through the television screen. It's like he wants the culprit to fear his retribution.

A strange sort of alarm races through me as I look at his face.

His stare is so nerve-wracking that it almost feels like he is coming ... for me.

Suddenly, the door slams open behind me, and I whip around to see who is here.

My step-mother stomps inside with a frown on her face, effectively bringing me out of all my thoughts.

"What are you still doing in the bridal room?" she snarls, her eyes narrowing at me. "The guests are out, and the wedding is about to start. You are wasting my time, you pathetic girl."

My shoulders hunch down like they always do under the weight of her verbal assault.

"I don't even want to be here," she continues, her voice dripping with disdain. "If it wasn't for the fact that a woman of my stature needs to keep up appearances, I would throw you out on the streets to get married."

She stalks towards me, her eyes burning with anger, and grabs my wrist painfully, twisting it. I gasp in pain, trying to pull away, but her grip is too strong.

"And what are those tears?" she spits, her face inches from mine. "You ungrateful witch, isn't it enough that I am letting you marry who you want to? Why are you crying now?"

I wince, biting my lip to keep from screaming out as her grip tightens. I can already feel the bruise forming under her fingers.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, instead. "I'll be right out."

"You'd better," she hisses, releasing my wrist with a shove. "Get ready and come out quickly, or this wedding won't happen."

With that, she stomps back out, leaving me trembling and alone.

"Just a few more hours, Ivy," I whisper to myself. "Just a few more hours, and life will be better. James will always keep you safe, then."

James.

The thought of him brings a small, genuine smile to my lips. He's the only person who's ever made me feel valued. Today, I'm marrying him, and that thought alone is enough to push back any more tears that are threatening to spill over.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself.

I can do this.

I smooth my dress one last time and follow her out of the room.

The wedding venue is small and plain. The decorations are simple - white flowers and delicate ribbons - but they add a touch of elegance to the room. My heart swells with joy as I step inside.

James stands at the altar, looking more handsome than ever in his tuxedo. His blonde hair is perfectly styled, and his brown eyes sparkle with warmth and affection.

I can't wait to be his wife! I think giddily.

However, just as I am about to take my first step towards him, a sudden, intense feeling grips me.

I feel like someone is watching me.

It's as if predatory eyes are boring into the back of my head, almost like someone has a gun trained on my back.

The sensation is so strong, so palpable, that it sends shivers down my spine. Fear washes over me, cold and suffocating, making my heart race and my breath hitch.

I fight the urge to turn around, to look for the source of this terrifying feeling. I freeze as my mind races, conjuring images of danger lurking in the shadows, ready to strike.

But then, my eyes lock with James's, and immediately, the fear ebbs away.

He's my safety, my haven.

I take a deep breath, letting calmness wash over me.

These must be wedding jitters, and nothing else - I convince myself and move forward.

With each step closer, the intensity of the fear diminishes. Finally, I reach James, and he gently clasps my hands in his. Soon, we exchange our vows, and each word feels like a promise, binding us closer together.

The priest smiles warmly at us, then at the few people in the audience.

"Now, it's time for the rings," he announces. James and I are handed the rings, our hands trembling slightly with excitement.

As the priest looks over at the audience, he jokes, "Well, this marriage is about to happen, so if anyone objects, speak now or forever hold your peace!"

No one speaks up, and I smile, my heart swelling with happiness.

James lifts the ring, ready to slide it onto my finger. My eyes are fixed on it as I hold my breath.

Only a few seconds now ...

Just as the ring is a few centimeters from my finger, a sudden whoosh of air slices through the room.

A blade, moving with alarming speed, strikes James's hand.

The ring flies from his grasp and slams into the wall behind us. Blood splashes over my white dress, and James lets out a panicked yell, doubling over in pain.

Chaos erupts.

People gasp and scream, turning to look at the man who threw the blade. I feel like I've been plunged into ice water, my skin going pale as dread takes hold. The strange fear I felt before comes rushing back over me like a tsunami.

The room spins, the noise a deafening roar in my ears.

I can't move, can't breathe, as I see the blood dripping from James's hand.

My heart races, pounding so hard it feels like it might burst from my chest. I turn my head, following the horrified gazes of our guests, to see who could have done this.

Slowly, I look up at the entrance, fear pooling in my belly.

Standing there, bathed in the shadows with a wicked smirk on his lips, is the devil I never thought I would ever see in person.

The room seems to darken around him, his presence casting a chilling aura that makes the air feel thick and suffocating.

His jet-black hair, wild and untamed, falls over his shoulders, giving him a savage, almost primal look. The same glacial blue eyes I saw on the news earlier, lock onto mine, narrowing with brutal intensity.

Every step he takes exudes power and menace, each movement fluid and lethal.

He is here.

Alexander Reed

Our Bloodthirsty Lycan King.

He catches my gaze, and his smirk widens, revealing sharp, predatory teeth.

"Of course, I object," he declares, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that silences the room.

"After all, little Ivy here can only be my wife alone."

With that, he advances towards me, and I have nowhere left to run.

Emberwood Kingdom Rule No.1: If an unmarried werewolf meets their fated mate, they must marry them.

____________________

Alexander's POV

Silky mahogany hair, green rabbit eyes and innocence.

That's how the she-devil who I have been searching for looks like in person. She watches me with terror, her chest rising and falling rapidly under the thin white dress she wears. There are tears pooling in her big, emerald eyes as she looks at me with a wounded expression.

As if I am the villain in her story.

A cold, bitter smirk forms on my lips, but there is no glee behind it. Any happiness that I have ever felt vanished when Alyssa died.

Alyssa.

Just her name is enough to send a throbbing pain running through my chest.

Alyssa. The only woman who had thought of me as more man than beast. And now she was dead because I couldn't protect her.

And, it was all because of this pretty little liar standing before me.

I take a step forward, and immediately, her scent attacks me. It penetrates the cloud of grief, pain, and rage I have been under for the past few days. It stops me in my tracks and shakes my world.

Vanilla with a hint of spice. Home. Mate.

My wolf howls inside of me.

Mate. Mate. Mate! It screams.

It wants to unleash itself and come bursting through my skin. It wants to rip away the wedding dress she wore for another man and claim her right then and there. I feel my eyes go dark gold and my claws rip through my hands.

Growling, I bury them in my own palms, using the pain to rein in the frustrating feelings.

What a colossal joke this is? That the woman who has a hand in my fiancée's murder is my mate? The moon goddess truly has a sick sense of humor.

Then, an idea forms in my head.

After all, fated mates were rare, and in order to protect these bonds, our kingdom, the Emberwood Kingdom, had one unbreakable law. It was the one law that was to be upheld through any cost. If an unmarried werewolf meets their fated mate, they must marry them. There were no two ways about it.

My smirk widens as a plan takes root in my brain. Court politics run in my head. My father has always insisted on me marrying the chief minister's daughter. He wanted his loyal supporter's offspring as his daughter-in-law.

Of course, he never said which one. He definitely never meant the illegitimate, unfavored one who stands before me. My fiancée's murderer.

My thoughts darken with wicked pleasure of bringing her into the cruel royal palace. I wouldn't even have to make her life hell; the power thirsty court will see she is destroyed all by herself.

"Of course, I object," I say with a vicious glee coating my voice. "After all, little Ivy here can only be my wife alone."

The moment the words leave my mouth, her face pales. She looks fragile, this little liar. She frantically takes a step back towards her fiancé, who is busy sniveling on the floor.

I don't let her take another step before I clasp her wrist in my hand. Immediately, electric heat spreads under my skin through the contact, and my eyes narrow. Her face is still fixed in her shocked expression, and she acts like this doesn't affect her at all. Still pretending to be oblivious.

Her wrist feels small in my hand - so breakable. This is exactly how she looks like too - fragile, sweet, like she is made of glass.

When I know the truth.

I know that she hides a devil inside.

Unable to control my fury at her deception, I yank her forward. Her forehead smacks into my chest, and suddenly, her scent is all around me.

Dangerous. Seductive. Alluring.

Unacceptable.

I need to get away from her.

I drag her out of the venue and take her away from the crowd. The moment we enter a secluded alley, I drop her wrist like it's made of fire. The move is too sudden for her, and she falls on her knees, letting the gravel bite her skin through the dress.

She winces, and for some inexplicable reason, my body moves towards her. I catch myself in time and school my features, shutting down the voice of my howling wolf.

"How does it feel to become a happy bride-to-be when you robbed your savior of the chance to do the same?"

Instead, I spit the words at her like acid.

I hate the way she looks back up at me, like she doesn't know what I mean. Like she has nothing to be guilty about.

"Why are you doing this?" She has the audacity to ask through huge tears. "I-is this about your fiancée? I heard the news, and I am so sorry. I desperately wished for her to survive. She was a-"

"Save the act." I snap at her. "I know the truth. I saw the CCTV footage. I saw the way you manipulated her into helping you escape. The way you promised her you'd come back to save her, but you ran away."

Her eyes widen at my words, and she stumbles up on her feet. There is a drop of blood that seeps through the fabric of her dress at her knee, and my wolf lashes out inside me.

Protect mate. Do not hurt mate. Comfort mate!

My teeth grit against the conflict that rages within me, and I channel more of my anger to offset it.

"She was such a frail woman and yet, she offered herself as a distraction. She led the robbers in the other direction. She sacrificed herself so you could go get help but instead, you left her there to die."

She gasps with alarm and the act is so convincing, it even gives me pause. Then, she opens her mouth and spills more lies.

"That's not true," she says tearfully. "She was the one who decided that I should go and get help. I never wanted to go. She convinced me because she thought I would be faster as she was-"

I don't let her finish.

"Stop this nonsense." I snap at her, cutting off her false excuses.

Her eyes go wide with urgency, and she quickly forces more words out.

"No- Listen- I didn't want to leave her at all." She tries again hastily, her thoughts scrambling as she senses my patience waning. "The moment I got out, I was knocked out by someone. I had no chance of getting out of there. I would never intentionally leave her-"

Her lies dig into my skin and pinch until I explode.

"Enough!" I roar as I move towards her with the speed of my wolf. In the next second, she is pinned against the wall, looking at me with scared eyes as her throat bobs up and down against my hand. I don't put pressure on her neck, I don't want her to stop talking. I just need her to know who is in control.

"If that were true, and you really were attacked, you wouldn't be here alive and well, on your way to getting married. No. You would be dead, just like her. So. Just. Stop. Fucking. Lying." I hiss at her, pinning her with my gaze, tracking the fake tears down her cheek.

"I don't know how I woke up in my room either. I really don't know. I am not lying. Please believe me, please. I would never hurt another person like that. Please, trust me. Please- just let me go."

For a moment, her frantic pleas almost seem to get to me, and my hand around her throat softens. The wolf inside of me begs me to believe her innocence.

It's only for a moment, but it's enough.

She is like a witch spreading her witchcraft, and I almost want to hurt her for it.

But ...

My fingers refuse to tighten around her throat. Every fiber of my being rebels at the idea.

With gritted teeth, I release her throat and slam the wall beside her head. It leaves a deep indent as rock buries in my knuckles, making me bleed. She gives out a strangled scream and looks ready to pass out.

With great restraint, I school my features behind the cold mask I wear with the world.

"Let you go? How can I do that, little mate? Don't you know the penalties for unmarried mates not marrying each other? Think about how shunned you would be by society. Can your selfish little heart take that?"

Once again, her eyes go round with shock at the word mate. She looks at me like she had no idea about this revelation either. Of course, I know that's impossible. As soon as werewolves get their wolf, they are able to detect their mate through the irresistible attraction that comes with the mate bond. But she stands there, completely unaffected.

Like, the queen of deception, she is.

Then, it's like the rest of my words penetrate her brain, and her face falls. A cold smile forms on my lips. Clearly, it's the idea of her being scorned that has her feeling dejected. An evil person like her could never bear to suffer the social humiliation.

"You're right." She murmurs, and my smile widens. "I can't do that to James. I can't marry him and let him face the wrath of the world when he is about to become a public official and make his dreams come true. This is my mess, and it won't be fair to drag him into it."

She says with a trembling voice, her words full of tears. And for a moment, shock envelops me.

Is she seriously worried for her pathetic boyfriend right now? Is she agreeing to marry me - someone she clearly thinks of as a monster - just so she can protect the reputation of her fiancé? The one who didn't even come out to look for her?

The thought brings a strange taste to the back of my throat. It disturbs me for some absurd reason, and I frown. But then, I catch myself and realize what she is doing. She is spinning her web of lies, trying to make me believe she is better than she is.

I let out a dark chuckle. It causes her to shake, and I know at least her fear of me is real.

Slowly, I reach out and touch the tear on her cheek. I trace it down, and she shudders at the contact.

"Ah, look at those devious tears, they deceived my fiancée and are now trying to deceive me too."

My fingers follow the line of her delicate jaw until they enclose around her chin and lift her head up. I look into her afraid forest green eyes. It almost feels like a lover's pose until my fingers tighten and my eyes harden.

When I speak, there is ice running through my veins. I feel the retribution and need for revenge build within me, and my voice comes out harsher than it has ever been.

"Let you go, you said? No, I'll keep you next to me and make you pay every single day for the rest of your life. You destroyed the love of my life, so it's only fair that I destroy yours."

She is shaking so hard against me now that I almost lose my grip on her.

But, I don't.

Instead, I tell her the words I have been meaning to ever since I saw the CCTV footage of her leaving Alyssa to die:

"If I am living in hell, then it's time you taste it too, little liar."

Ivy's POV

I run like my life depends on it.

I run as fast as I can.

Fear is like an invisible phantom chasing after me.

My breath comes out loudly and my vision blurs.

I tightly clutch the pendant Alyssa handed me before she asked me to go and call for help.

After all, I was the only one who could do so.

The only one who didn't have an inner wolf and wasn't affected by the poisonous gas laced with Wolfsbane that the robbers had unleashed on everyone.

Faster. Go, Faster, Ivy.

My footsteps hasten as I think about Alyssa. She was the kind of person who I could so easily imagine as a friend in another life. A life where we didn't meet like this - on the precipice of life and death.

Maybe we could still be friends. If I can just reach help in time.

I had to save her. I had to go back for her. I had to -

My thoughts come to a careening halt as something hard hits the back of my head. Sharp pain lances through me as I teeter to the side.

"I have to go back-" I whisper weakly as my vision blurs and dims until I see nothing but pitch black darkness...

____________________

My eyes shoot open, and my entire body is shaking. The remnants of the nightmare cling to me like glue.

Ever since the night of the robbery, I have had these dreams. I run and run to try and get someone to help us. To save Alyssa from dying. But, I can't. I am attacked and then, everything's over.

Gingerly, I get up and lift a trembling hand to reach the glass of water on my bedside table.

Immediately, cold seeps into my bones, and my shivering increases.

I hate this place.

It's dark with huge marble walls, sparsely furnished rooms, and is unbearably, terrifyingly cold.

This is where the Lycan king has me locked away for the past few days.

He had refused to listen to any of my reasoning and basically kidnapped me from my wedding and threw me into this empty palace.

Now, every day, a stone-cold woman with a severe expression comes in with food and other necessities. She never talks to me, never asks me how I am.

My days go by in solitude, and my nights are spent terrified, scared of the shadows I imagine hunting me in this dark palace.

It is my very own personal jail. Only, my jailer is the most powerful being in the kingdom.

Just the thought of his angry eyes - twin pools of malevolent storms - is enough to send fear racing through me. I yank my blanket further over me until it comes up to my chin.

Still, the chill does not go away. I am afraid it never will.

Suddenly, the opening of the door has me looking up. For a brief moment, I wonder if it is Alexander, and the mere idea has me filled with dread.

But it isn't him.

I gasp as I see the middle-aged man entering the room. He wears a grim expression, and his graying hair is neatly set into place. He stalks inside like he knows how important a man he is.

And, as the chief minister of the entire kingdom, he really is an important man.

My father. Joseph Blackwood.

My throat feels tight, and tears form in my eyes as I quickly get up from the bed. I feel like a scared little girl as I take him in. A growing feeling forms in my belly and expands into my chest.

It's hope.

On instinct, my hands go to straighten the wrinkled dress I am in. I fidget under my father's stern gaze, fearful for his disappointment.

He gives a once-over to the room I am in and then turns to look at me flatly.

"So, I see you are settling in quite well, then."

For a moment, it feels like my world has come to a stop. I stare at him, unable to form a response.

A slow, painful feeling takes over me.

He is not here to ask me how I am doing. He is not here to save me and take me away.

A tear falls from my eye before I can stop it, and the sharp twinge of heartache makes my vision blurry.

As he comes further into the room, I realize there is something in his hands. It only takes me a moment to realize what it is, and a stuttered breath leaves my lips.

It is a wedding dress.

My face crumples as I look back at him. The hope that had risen in my chest effectively died.

"Oh, Ivy, finally, you have proven not to be completely worthless. I am so happy you are marrying the Lycan King. Now, as his wife and mate, you can be his confidante and help me get all the information I would need to increase our family's influence."

He speaks in a pleased manner, completely oblivious to my world falling apart. When I stay silent, his eyes narrow at me.

"Oh, don't look so crestfallen. Many women would kill to be in your position. Granted, I would have wanted your sister and not you to be the king's wife. Still, legitimate or not, you are still my daughter, and you should do your duty."

Pain slithers through me like it always does when he reminds me of who I am to him. A bastard child. An inconvenience.

As if he wasn't the one who deceived my mother and hid his real wife and child from her. The only reason he had taken me in was that the kingdom did not allow fathers to abandon children out of wedlock.

Never once had he let me forget about that. Even once.

"But, father- s-surely, surely you see where he is keeping me? He hates me. Please, please save me from this sham of a marriage." I let out the words in a broken whisper, hoping to plead to any mercy left in him.

However, I am only met with a hard, unrelenting gaze.

"Do as I say, or don't expect me to keep paying for your mother's treatment." His threat hits me worse than a slap. It is worse than anything he could have said to me.

Before I can say a word in response, he is already turning away.

"Be sure to wear the dress, your sister especially chose this for you." With that last parting order, he leaves me in my new prison.

The moment he walks out, my legs give out beneath me. Shaking, I bring my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them.

I feel so alone, so helpless-

No, Ivy, get a hold of yourself.

I know I cannot keep crying. I have to be strong if I am to survive this ordeal. With still shaking fingers, I wipe away my tears and get back on my feet.

Slowly, I walk towards the dress.

A broken smile makes way to my lips at the thought of my elder half-sister, Eliza, picking this dress out for me. She is the only person in my family who has always been kind to me, so I have no choice but to honor her gesture.

With shaky fingers, I take out the dress and hold it up in front of me. With thousands of glistening crystals embedded in the bodice, the softest silk and hand-stitched lace, it is the most stunning dress I have seen in my entire life.

It is a dress fit for a queen.

Just for a moment, I forget about the absolute hell my life has been for the past few days. Instead, an almost childlike glee takes hold of me as I take off my clothes and quickly put the dress on me.

I run towards the mirror and gasp in shock, hardly able to recognize myself. It fits like a dream, and I look beautiful in it.

The smallest hint of a smile tugs at my lips as I admire the dress.

But then, the air shifts, cold and heavy, and I freeze.

My breath catches in my throat as I see a figure reflected in the mirror.

My heart nearly stops.

With a terrified scream, I whirl around, my eyes locking onto Alexander.

The Lycan King stands there, silent and still, a predator in the night.

His eyes are fixed on the dress I'm wearing, and I can almost see the darkness radiating off him, thick and suffocating. I didn't even hear him come in. He must have moved like a shadow, silently closing in on me.

As I watch, silent fury overtakes him, bleaching the darkness in his eyes until they are nothing but icy shards. He clenches his hand, and the small glass of brandy he holds shatters in his grip. The sharp sound echoes through the room, the shards cutting into his skin. Blood drips to the floor, and I feel like my entire world is collapsing around me.

I can't move. I can't run. I am a rabbit in the paws of the mighty wolf.

My whole body trembles as I stand there, rooted in place, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst out of my chest. I nervously grip the sides of the dress to steady myself.

"How dare you?" His voice is low, lethal, like the calm before a storm. His words slice through the air, promising death.

"How dare you wear the dress my fiancée picked for herself?"

His words hit me like a physical blow, and I stagger back a step, my mind racing. I want to explain, to tell him this is a mistake - a horrible, terrible coincidence.

That, this is only a dress my sister lovingly sent for me. That, I would never, ever be as cruel as to wear Alyssa's dress and mock her memory like this. But the words are stuck in my throat in the face of his wrath.

I can't speak. I can't even breathe properly.

"Take it off," he commands, his voice harsh and unforgiving.

I start to shake even more, my knees threatening to give out beneath me.

"I-I can't... not with you in here," I manage to whisper, my voice small, nothing like the fierce plea I want it to be.

"Take it the fuck off," he growls, and with a vicious movement, he hurls the remnants of the glass against the wall. It shatters with a loud crash, and a small whimper escapes my lips before I can stop it.

"Take it off, or I will do it for you," he threatens, his voice low and dangerous, every word dripping with menace.

He takes a step closer, and I take one back instinctively. His presence is overwhelming - it fills the room, takes up all of my air.

My hands fumble with the dress, my fingers numb with pain. I struggle to undo the delicate buttons, my vision blurring with tears that I refuse to let fall.

Slowly, he closes the distance between us.

The buttons slip from my grasp in the urgency of it all, and I bite back a sob, my entire body trembling uncontrollably now.

Just, when he is inches away from me, the fear gets the best of me. Without realizing it, I yank at the buttons and end up tearing apart the delicate dress.

It falls open around me, and I scramble to hold it up with both hands, covering my breasts from his eyes.

He catches the movement, and his eyes narrow.

He is impossibly close to me now. I am completely backed up against the wall.

Vulnerable, exposed, and at his mercy.

I watch, as his eyes trace my bare shoulders, the shake of my fingers, the top of my breasts that are still visible to him.

I watch, as slowly the dark anger in his eyes ebbs away.

Until, they fill with something I can't describe.

I see him lifting his fingers towards me, and I tightly shut my eyes.

I am too humiliated to face him, too scared to see what he is going to do to me.

I am sure he is going to hurt me. I am sure he is going to make me pay for what he believes I did.

I am sure of so many awful things, but what he actually does is something I could never have imagined in my wildest dream...