Chapter 192
FAYE
I didn’t know what I expected his reaction to be, but it definitely wasn’t this.
Alexander sat there, holding the test result in his hand like it was something sacred. His eyes moved over the words again-slow, careful, almost disbelieving.
I watched every tiny shift in his expression from where I sat on the couch, hugging a cushion without realizing it. He didn’t speak immediately. He just stared, and every second of silence twisted deeper into my stomach.
My heart was racing so fast I could hear it in my ears… I didn’t know why I felt that way.
I’m carrying Alexander’s child.
I’d repeated the words to myself all morning, and somehow it still didn’t feel real.
When Alexander finally lifted his gaze from the report, there was something soft-almost vulnerable-sitting right behind his eyes. Not anger, not frustration, not disappointment. Something else entirely… something I couldn’t place.
Then, slowly-so slowly it almost didn’t happen―he smiled.
It wasn’t his usual confident, smug, “I already knew this would happen” smirk. It wasn’t his teasing grin, or even that gentle, rare smile he only ever gave me when he was really relaxed. This one… looked like disbelief fighting joy. Like he was scared to react too fast in case the
words weren’t real.
“You’re pregnant?” he said.
I nodded, not sure how to respond.
“Come here,” he said.
I stood, and my steps toward him were embarrassingly slow.
When I reached him, he didn’t wait. He gently pulled me onto his lap, his hand resting on my waist as though he needed the physical contact to anchor himself.
He stared at me for a moment, like he was memorizing my face. Then, with a gentleness that didn’t match his usual temperament at all, he placed his palm on my stomach. I felt the warmth of his hand through my clothes.
His voice was barely a whisper. “I’m going to be a father…”
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Hearing him say it aloud made everything inside me tremble.
I wasn’t prepared-not for this softness in his tone, not for the way his thumb brushed the fabric near my belly like he was afraid of hurting something. Not for the look on his face either. Alexander looked like a man seeing a miracle he wasn’t sure he deserved.
“I wasn’t sure how you’d react,” I admitted quietly. “I thought maybe you’d be… mad. Or overwhelmed. Or-I don’t know…”
His head snapped up so fast I almost flinched.
“Mad?” he repeated, like the very idea offended him. “Faye, why would I ever be mad about
this?”
I shrugged weakly. “Because it’s… it’s a lot. Everything going on in the pack, the situation with Marcus, the rumors, Patrick… and now this. I wasn’t sure what you’d think.”
He stared at me with an expression I’d never seen before-something deep and emotional, like he wanted to argue every insecurity I had but couldn’t find the right words yet.
“Faye…” he breathed my name like it meant something profound. “You’re carrying my child.”
His thumb brushed my stomach again. “Our child.”
The words sounded like melody to me.
For a moment, there was concern in his eyes… very brief, very faint… but I saw it. He was worried. Maybe about safety, timing, responsibility… or the weight of everything. But just as quickly as it appeared, he pushed it away, burying it beneath something warmer.
And then he kissed me.
It was soft at first-slower than usual, careful, like he was rediscovering me all over again. melted instantly, my fingers gripping his shoulders as that familiar warmth wrapped around my chest.
Then the kiss deepened, growing fuller and warmer as he cupped my jaw with his hand, tilting my head gently so he could kiss me better.
I responded before I could think. My arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer. The heat between us sparked immediately-too fast, too intense, too hungry. His lips moved against mine with a kind of reverence that made my insides flutter wildly.
There was nothing hurried about it. Nothing rough or desperate. Just slow-burning intensity… and something like joy woven right into the way he touched me.
git
Before I even realized what he was doing, Alexander stood up-lifting me as easily as
weighed nothing. His hands slid under my thighs, and my arms instinctively tightened around his neck. I realized he was about to walk out of the office holding me like that.
“Alexander…” I whispered, startled. “…people are going to see-
He didn’t even hesitate.
“And?” His voice dropped lower, more possessive. “You’re my mate. And the mother of my unborn child.”
I felt my face explode with heat.
He leaned in, brushing his forehead against mine, and whispered, “I don’t care who sees
what.”
My heart practically doubled in size. I hid my face in his shoulder, embarrassed and flustered, but he only chuckled…low and warm…as if he enjoyed how flustered I was.
He shifted his grip slightly, holding me securely as he carried me out of the office. I buried my face deeper, half wanting to disappear and half floating on the way he held me like I was precious.
And then, with the bold confidence only Alexander had, he walked us straight toward the chamber, not minding who was looking.
My heartbeat thudded wildly the entire way-embarrassment mixing with anticipation, fear mixing with excitement, everything tangled together.
He managed to open the door without dropping me. He stepped inside… and carried me straight into the bedroom.
Alexander set me down on the bed with a softness that didn’t match the heat in his eyes. My breath caught as he straightened up, and very slowly… so deliberately it made my pulse stumble… he reached for the buttons of his shirt.
He kept his gaze locked on mine the whole time as he undid one button, then another… then another.
Each sound of the fabric giving way echoed in the room, louder than it should have. My mouth went dry. He wasn’t even touching me-yet I felt every bit of his attention like a hand sliding over my skin.
“You’re staring too much,” he murmured.
I didn’t deny it. I couldn’t.
When he finally slipped the shirt off his shoulders, he didn’t toss it aside immediately. He let it slide slowly down his arms, like he wanted me to watch every second of it. My face grew warm, and my fingers curled into the sheets.
He smirked.
“Already blushing?” he teased, stepping closer to the bed. “I haven’t even touched you.”
I swallowed hard. “Then… touch me.”
“No.”
He said it gently, almost playfully, shaking his head as he leaned forward just enough for his breath to brush my cheek. “Not yet.”
My heart thudded.
He trailed his fingers lightly across my arm-barely there, a whisper of a touch that made my whole body tense in anticipation. Then he pulled back, just out of reach, enjoying the way I instinctively leaned toward him.
“Alexander…” I whispered, frustrated at how needy my voice sounded.
His smile widened, slow and satisfied.
“There it is,” he murmured. “The way you say my name when you want something.”
Heat pooled low in my stomach.
He brushed his knuckles along my jaw, down my neck, and stopped just short of where I wanted his hand to be. My breath hitched, and he paused, studying my reaction with unmistakable amusement.
“Say it,” he whispered.
I clenched the sheets harder. “Touch me.”
He raised an eyebrow slowly. “Beg.”
I froze-half embarrassed, half desperate-and the combination made my whole body feel too warm. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew what his voice did to me, what that low, commanding tone did to my self-control.
He leaned in, lips brushing my ear.
“Faye…”
My name sounded sinful on his tongue.
“If you want me… say it.”
My pride dissolved instantly.
“Please,” I breathed. “Alexander… please touch me. I want you.”
He let out a satisfied exhale-the sound of a man who had just gotten exactly what he wanted.
“Good girl.”
