The Dark Prince’s Pregnant Mate

Chapter 7 – The Alpha’s Claim

Amara gazed out of the tinted window as the sleek black car glided past towering gates and into an estate that seemed to stretch endlessly.

But this was no ordinary Alpha’s territory. The Sinclair estate was unlike anything she had seen before—grand yet suffused with a power that sent shivers crawling down her skin. The very air felt different here, charged with something ancient.

The car stopped before a sprawling marble mansion, its white pillars reaching for the heavens, fountains glowing under moonlight. Amara’s lips parted slightly. This wasn’t a home—it was a kingdom in itself.

Before she could gather her racing thoughts, the car door swung open. She stepped out, her breath catching as her eyes swept across the scene before her.

Dozens of servants lined the stone pathway, standing perfectly straight, their heads bowed in eerie silence. Their reverence felt out of place, like a tradition from centuries long past.

Her stomach fluttered uneasily. Why are they bowing to him as though he were royalty?

“Welcome to my abode, Amara,” Ezekiel’s deep voice rumbled beside her, pulling her attention back. He extended a hand, his gaze sharp yet unreadable. “Shall we go in?”

She swallowed hard, then gave a small nod.

Inside, opulence wrapped itself around her like a cloak. Crystal chandeliers glittered above, their light spilling across intricate carvings and velvet drapes. Every detail spoke of wealth and authority. Settling uneasily on a plush couch, Amara let her gaze wander.

“Ezekiel,” she began hesitantly, her voice betraying her curiosity, “I forgot to ask—you… which pack do you belong to? Are you the Alpha of one?”

Ezekiel reached for the glass of water handed to him by a waiting servant, his movements deliberate, regal. He took a slow sip before answering.

“I belong to no pack.”

Her brows knitted in confusion. “What? Then… are you rogue?”

“No.” His reply was curt, final.

Before she could press further, an older man entered the room, bowing with deep respect. His age and presence spoke of long years of service.

“My lord,” the man said, voice heavy with reverence, “a message has come from your father. He requests your attendance at the annual gala this year.”

Ezekiel didn’t even glance at him. “Not interested.”

Amara tilted her head, intrigued. “Why refuse? I’ve heard so much about the gala. Isn’t it where most wolves go to find their mates?”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

Ezekiel’s eyes flicked to hers, their intensity freezing her in place. “Why would I need a mate,” he said slowly, “when I already have you?”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Servants froze mid-step. The old butler lowered his gaze further.

Amara blinked, her heart slamming in her chest. “I-I think you misunderstand,” she stammered. “I’m grateful you saved me, truly. But I can’t… stay here with you forever.”

“I am Ezekiel D’Argent Sinclair,” he cut in, his voice firm, the name rolling out like thunder.

Her breath hitched. The surname jolted something in her memory, a name whispered in hushed tones among her pack.

Sinclair. The royal bloodline.

Her mind reeled as fragments of stories resurfaced—the Alpha King who had ruled for centuries, the heirs born of power and feared across nations. Among them, one name had always stood apart.

Ezekiel Sinclair—the Dark Alpha Prince.

Her blood ran cold. I spent the night with the Alpha Prince…

She stared at him, her lips parting soundlessly, but no words came.

Ezekiel’s lips curved in a faint smirk, as though he read every flicker of realization in her expression. “No need for titles. Just call me Ezekiel. This isn’t the old world.”

The butler cleared his throat softly, bowing again. “My lord, should I make arrangements for Miss Amara? A maid, perhaps? The wardrobe we discussed earlier is ready.”

Ezekiel gave a single approving nod. “See to it. She’ll require every comfort here.” His gaze slid back to Amara, his meaning unreadable.

Her chest tightened. A wardrobe? A personal maid? Why was he arranging such things for her?

“I don’t need all of that,” she said quickly, her voice quiet but firm. “You’ve already helped me more than enough. I still owe you a debt.”

Ezekiel leaned back, studying her with unreadable eyes. His next words were calm but laced with something darker.

“You will repay me. Every day.”

The weight of his tone made her heart skip a beat. Her fingers clenched in her lap as a shiver ran down her spine. What kind of payment does he mean?

Fear coiled in her stomach, her body urging her to run. Without another word, she rose from the couch and followed the butler from the room, her mind a storm of confusion and unease.

As soon as the door closed behind her, the smirk slipped from Ezekiel’s face. His expression hardened, his gaze shifting to the tall, dark-haired man who had been waiting silently near the doorway.

“Lucien,” Ezekiel said coldly, “I have a task for you. Find out who Amara’s former mate was.”

Lucien’s brows shot up in surprise. “She had a mate?”

Ezekiel’s jaw tightened as he swirled the glass of water in his hand, his golden eyes flashing. “He rejected her yesterday. I want his name. His status. Everything.”

Lucien hesitated, then inclined his head. “Understood. But may I ask—why her? She doesn’t seem… strong.”

For a long moment, silence stretched between them. Then, slowly, Ezekiel’s lips curved into a dangerous smirk, though his eyes remained dark.

“Because she chose me first.”

Lucien swallowed hard at the conviction in his tone, recognizing the finality behind the words. When the Dark Prince claimed something—or someone—it was absolute.

Amara might have thought she could leave him. But Ezekiel knew better.

She was his now.