His Defiant Luna And The Hidden Secret

Elois POV:

A fist of hot iron clenched deep in my gut, yanking me from a shallow, fever-dream sleep.

I gasped, my breath catching in my throat. The pain wasn't a wave; it was a living thing, sharp and vicious, coiling through my lower abdomen like a serpent with teeth.

Something warm and wet slid between my legs.

Panic, cold and sharp, shot through me. I threw back the silk sheets and stumbled out of bed, my legs shaking so badly I could barely stand.I didn't notice the scent on the sheets—not yet—my mind was consumed by the fire tearing through my womb.

I lurched into the adjoining bathroom, fumbling for the light switch. My fingers slipped on the metal plate twice before I found it.

The sudden glare was blinding. I blinked, my reflection staring back at me from the large mirror—a ghost with wide, terrified eyes and skin the color of ash.

My gaze dropped.

A river of scarlet snaked down my inner thighs, stark against my pale skin. The hem of my white nightgown was soaked in it.

Red. So much red.

The truth hit me with the force of a physical blow. The baby. Blaise's and my baby.

My knees gave out. I crumpled to the floor, the cold of the marble tile a brutal shock against my overheated skin. The cramping intensified, a relentless wave of agony that stole my breath and left me trembling, gasping like a drowning woman.

Instinct took over. I reached for the one person who was supposed to be my anchor, my mate.

Blaise! I screamed through the mind-link, the bond that was supposed to bind our souls. My stomach—it's burning, twisting, I can't bear it. I'm so afraid... Please, just come! Don't leave me to drown in this darkness alone! Save me...

Silence.

A dead, empty void where his presence should have been.

He'd blocked me. He had severed the link from his end, leaving me completely and utterly alone in my agony.

A sob, raw and broken, tore from my throat.

I had to get help. I couldn't just lie here and bleed.

Using the vanity for support, I dragged myself back into the bedroom, my movements clumsy and slow. Each pull of my muscles sent a fresh spike of pain through my core. My phone. I needed my phone.

I crawled toward the bed, my hand reaching for the nightstand. My fingers brushed against the rumpled sheets, and I grabbed a handful to pull myself up.

That was when the scent hit me. Lilies. Thick, cloying, suffocating.

It wasn't my scent. It was hers. Daniela Reeves.

The sweet, floral fragrance was woven into the fabric of the sheets, tangled with the familiar, sharp scent of cedar and snow that belonged to Blaise. The combination was a poisoned knife twisting in my heart.

My stomach heaved.

He had brought her here. To our bed. On the very sheets where I was losing his child.

Then I heard it—footsteps in the hallway. Slow, deliberate, unhurried. They paused just outside the door, as if he was listening. Then the handle turned.

The bedroom door swung open.

Blaise stood there, a tall, imposing silhouette against the hallway light. His handsome face, all sharp angles and aristocratic lines, was a mask of indifference. He looked perfect, his dark hair slightly mussed, his black shirt fitting his broad shoulders flawlessly.

His ice-blue eyes swept over me, on the floor, tangled in the bloody sheets. They flickered to the crimson stains on my legs, and his brow furrowed, but not with concern.

It was annoyance.

The smell of lilies and cedar rolled off him in waves, confirming everything.

"What new game is this, Elois?" His voice was cold, laced with a familiar, weary disgust.

I bit my lower lip, the pressure a small, sharp pain I could control. I tasted copper.

I pointed a trembling finger at the blood. My voice came out as a ragged whisper. "The... the baby..."

For a fraction of a second, something flickered in his eyes. A shadow of... something. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a deeper, more profound suspicion.

He didn't move toward me. He didn't offer a hand.

Instead, he pulled out his phone and dialed the pack doctor, his voice clipped and impersonal as he ordered him to our room. Not to my side. To the room. I wasn't a woman losing her child; I was a problem to be managed.

While we waited in suffocating silence, I heard whispers from the hallway. Two of the younger Omega maids, their voices hushed but clear to my werewolf hearing.

"Did you hear? Miss Daniela is pregnant. They say it's the Alpha's."

"Really? That explains everything. The Alpha has been with her constantly."

The words were like needles, piercing the fragile shell of my composure. My head snapped up to look at him, a silent question in my eyes.

He didn't deny it. He just gave me a cold, hard stare, as if daring me to challenge him. As if I had no right.

Dr. Aris arrived minutes later, his face a professional blank. He helped me onto the bed and his examination was quick and efficient. His expression was grim when he finished.

"I'm sorry, Luna," he said softly, avoiding my eyes. "You've lost the pregnancy. You need complete bed rest."

Blaise listened to the report without a single change in his expression. He dismissed the doctor with a curt nod.

Once we were alone again, he walked to the side of the bed. For a moment, a flicker of hesitation crossed his features, a brief crack in his icy facade. I saw him remember his grandfather's unyielding command-that he must bring his mate to the family dinner tonight. The crack sealed over, the ice reforming thicker than before.

He looked down at me, his shadow falling over my broken body. "Tonight is the annual family dinner. My grandfather will be there."

"I can't..." I started, my voice hoarse.

"You are my mate," he cut me off, his tone absolute. "You will be there."

"I'm miscarrying, Blaise!" The words ripped out of me, a desperate, final plea for a shred of compassion.

A humorless, cruel laugh escaped his lips. "Isn't this what you wanted? To be rid of an inconvenient complication? It frees you up to play your little games for the Luna title."

His words hurt more than the physical agony tearing me apart. My heart, already fractured, shattered into dust. The cold that started in my gut spread through my entire body, a deep, soul-chilling frost.

He leaned down, his face close to mine, his voice a low, menacing whisper meant only for me.

"Put on your most presentable dress. Play your part. Or you will see exactly what happens to the Stone Creek pack."

My father. My family. He always knew exactly where to strike.

I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut as a single, hot tear escaped and traced a path through the grime on my cheek.

He straightened up, a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes at my surrender. He turned and walked out of the room without a backward glance.

The latch clicked shut, and the sound echoed in the cavernous silence.

I curled into a tight ball, wrapping my arms around my empty, cramping womb. The physical pain was a storm, but it was nothing compared to the hurricane of betrayal and despair that ripped my soul to shreds.