E

    The media storm began within hours.

    Apparently, someone in the hospital waiting room had recorded Alexander marking me on their phone. By the time we got home, the footage was already all over social media.

    Thankfully, Alexander marking me wasn’t discovered-his body had conveniently blocked the view of what had really happened. That was a relief, at least.

    But people wanted to know why I hade running out of the exam room in nothing but a hospital gown. And more than that, they wanted to know why I had copsed and been rushed away by the nurses.

    And knowing how relentless the inte could be, I knew it would only be a matter of time before people found out the truth.

    I was sitting in the living room the morning after the incident, scrolling through thements on one such particr post specting on my condition, when Alexander practically came barreling into the room with his phone clutched in his hand.

    “I’ve got a n,” he said.

    Of course he had a n. Everything was always about strategy with him.

    “We’re going to announce the pregnancy. I just hired a photographer toe and do a photoshoot, and we’ll do a press release first thing tomorrow morning.”

    My heart jumped, phone slipping from my fingers, forgotten. “We’re going public with the baby?”

    “It’s the only way to control the narrative.”

    Controlling the narrative. Right. I supposed, in a naive way, I had hoped that marking me might change everything. That maybe Alexander had feelings for me after all, and we could just announce the pregnancy as a real, loving couple.

    But that was silly of me; he only marked me to save the child, and he was only going public because it was the most logical course of action. Not because he was excited about showing off our little family.

    I nodded and shoved down the hollow feeling in my chest, not just for myself, but so he couldn’t sense it through the newly formed bond “When?”

    “She’ll be here in two hours.”

    The photoshoot was scheduled for the mansion’s garden, where thete afternoon light would be most ttering. I spent an hour getting ready–hair curled and pinned in an elegant

    updo, makeup applied to perfection, dressed in a flowing cream-colored dress that hugged my still-t belly.

    When I looked in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. The sickness had stolen so much from me over the past months. My color, my strength, my confidence. But now, with my wolf back and the mark fresh on my neck, I looked radiant.

    Healthy. Happy. Like a Luna who was deeply in love with her Alpha.

    If only it were real.

    The photographer arrived before I knew it, and soon we were being swept out into the gardens, where she had already set up her various cameras and equipment. She ushered me over to the bench beneath the cherry tree, although the pink petals were all gone now, green with the promise of a hot and long summer.

    While the photographer rushed around making sure every little detail was perfect, Alexander appeared at my side. He’d changed into a charcoal gray suit that emphasized his broad shoulders, although I tried not to think about how stupidly handsome he looked.

    I also tried not to think about how delicious it had felt to have his mouth on my neck.

    But my efforts, apparently, were futile. Alexander shot me an arch look. “Can you tone it back a little? It feels like the mate bond is on fire.”

    My face went ame, and I quickly mmed up my mental defenses, cutting off the bond so quickly that it made my wolf whine in protest. “Sorry. Still getting used to it. My wolf…”

    “Don’t me me!” my wolf chuffed. “You want him just as much as I-“‘

    “Are we ready?” The photographer’s voice cut through the awkwardness, which I was thankful for. I quickly nodded and shoved my wolf down, all the while ensuring that my mental blocks were firmly in ce.

    And it was an easy task, considering the fact that the first poses were simple enough: Alexander and I sitting together on the stone bench, his arm around my shoulders, both of us looking directly at the camera. Professional. Composed. A little close forfort, but I was still capable of keeping the bond neutral.