Chosen By Fang

Chapter three

Alice’s POV

It had been a month.

A full…seemingly ordinary month, where classes, pressure from friends to go to obscene parties, infuriating tests from lectures and the drudge of life all blended together.

It wasn’t enough, though, to make me forget about the short night at the Blackthorne estate.

Well, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t.

The pearl in my bag wouldn’t allow me. Besides, no matter how much I told myself to act ordinary…to give it time…my mind disagreed.

No.

My body disagreed.

I still felt watched.

The hairs at the back of my neck stood on their ends every time I left a class, or if I stayed in a restaurant for too long, and that feeling reminded me too much of someone.

It didn’t feel possible. Logically, it made no sense, that the billionaire philanthropist-mafia-whatever-else-could-be-added-to-his-name would take time out of his busy schedule to search for me…personally.

But I could feel him.

Sometimes, I would be in a place for too long, and I’d catch a whiff of his cologne. I could never forget it…not after the sparks he made me see.

Still, it didn’t change the fact that I was being watched.

Tracked.

When the flyer for the economics symposium went around campus—Blackthorne Industries: Sustainable Wealth in Emerging Markets—I scoffed and signed up anyway.

It was 20 points.

I wasn’t going to lose 20 points to the assumption that a billionaire Alpha werewolf was stalking me.

Besides, if he really was, now was my chance to find out.

“There’s no way he’d show up,” I muttered to myself as I pushed through the glass doors of the conference hall. “He’s too rich to speak at a university conference,”

I found a seat halfway back, close enough to see the stage, far enough to stay invisible.

That was the plan - stay put…stay invisible.

Then, the air changed. A hush fell over the hall and once chattering students closed their mouths as if they were hypnotized to do so.

People in the front turned their heads to the back to get a glimpse of him.

My pulse spiked.

I knew that feeling.

I’d felt it once before, in the jewellery room, on my first attempt at the pearl.

“Oh no,” I whispered.

Whispers rippled through the hall.

“Is that…?”

“Damien Fang.”

“No way.”

“He doesn’t do these.”

I stayed perfectly still. Moving would be a mistake. Drawing attention would be worse. For all I knew, he had no idea who I was…no idea I was the one who stole the only thing in that room that didn’t have a price tag.

For all I knew…

Damien could have as well just floated unto the stage with the amount of aura he commanded. He not only owned the stage. He owned the entire room at this point.

He cleared his throat on the mic, his deep rasps sounding like a trombone gone bad…but in an entrancing way.

“Surprised to see me here, it seems,” His mouth twisted into the most charismatic smile I had ever seen.

A natural ease fell unto the room as he proceeded with his speech.

He spoke easily, about growth metrics and global outreach, about Blackthorne Industries as a subsidiary of Fang Alliances, about wealth as a tool rather than a trophy - exactly what my last essay was about.

Goosebumps crawled unto my skin. Was that coincidence? Or was he doing this to make a point...

That he sees me?

And as he talked, his eyes moved.

Not aimlessly.

Searching.

It was slow…delibarate…downright predatory, almost like he didn’t care how he came across to the room.

My heart hammered. I kept my gaze forward, my expression neutral, my hands folded like I was just another student here to learn about fiscal responsibility and market trends.

His eyes met mine…and stayed there. He wasn’t scared of people seeing him watch me. That alone sent shivers down my spine.

I broke eye contact first.

Did he recognize me?

I stared down at my tablet. Right now, the notes on the screen were the most important things in the world. If I acted natural enough, my nervous system’s betrayal wouldn’t be too obvious.

My stomach rolled as I thought of what it would be like in a jail cell. Because surely, imprisoning me would be on his mind, no?

Did he even know I took the pearl? He must have found out.

A wave of nausea caused my vision to blur.

Not uncommon. I’ve been sick for a while now, postponing my trip to the doctor only because I felt I had too much on my plate to be worried about why I’m vomiting.

Plus, if you stole the most expensive artifact in the city, you’d be sick as well.

“Wild, right?” the girl beside me leaned over, whispering like we were sharing state secrets. She had glossy hair, fang-shaped earrings - oh please - and an excited bubble to her demeanor that told me she was probably more invested in werewolf politics than her own human heritage.

“What?” I murmured.

“Damien Fang,” she said reverently, nodding toward the stage. “I mean, look at him. All that masculine energy mixed with Alpha blood?” She sighed. “If I could get pregnant by anyone, it’d be him.”

I stiffened.

Pregnant.

She laughed softly. “I’m serious. It’s been a fantasy of mine…getting claimed by a werewolf. Damien is the final boss of that.”

My stomach lurched violently.

PREGNANT!

She kept going, oblivious. “Some girls would kill for that kind of…”

I didn’t hear the rest.

The room tilted. Heat crawled up my throat, sharp and urgent, and suddenly I was on my feet, shoving my tablet into my bag and mumbling something that sounded like “sorry” as I bolted down the aisle.

The bathroom was mercifully empty.

I barely made it to the sink before everything came up and out of my mouth.

I gagged, bracing myself with trembling hands, my reflection swimming in the mirror above porcelain stained with pale, foamy vomit.

Second time this week.

It was Wednesday.

I rinsed my mouth, splashed water on my face, then froze.

My eyes looked brighter.

Too bright. My cheeks fuller, flushed in a way that wasn’t just panic. I stared at myself like I was looking at a stranger. It was a strange version of myself, after all, one that was too soft around the edges, in a way that made my skin crawl.

I swallowed.

“No,” I whispered.

My memory punished me, flashing back to my night of bliss with Damien Fang. His beautiful length, and overwhelming thickness.

Raw.

Condomless.

I pressed a hand to my stomach, breath coming short.

“Oh my God,” I huffed, voice shaking. “I’m pregnant, aren’t I?”