Forbidden Pregnancy for the Vampire Prince

Chapter three

The classroom was silent. Every eye in the room had paused to settle on me. I looked around, lost. I had no idea what the professor had said or how long I had been zoned out.

"I'm fine," I said. The lie sat heavy in my mouth. "I'm just tired."

"I asked a question about first-night mating protocols," Professor Halloway repeated.

I swallowed hard. I had no answer. Halloway pressed on, his gaze narrowing. "Were you paying attention to anything I taught today?"

I stood up, my legs feeling like lead. Belle was seated across the room, her eyes wide with worry. She knew I was acting out of place.

I felt a sharp cut on my finger and before I could even process the wound, it healed quickly.

Suddenly, the scent of the room shifted. It wasn't just the musk of wolf pheromones anymore. I could smell the tuna lunch of the guy in the front row. I could smell the stale coffee on Halloway's breath from ten feet away. My senses were sharpening to a painful degree.

My stomach lurched.

"I asked a question," the professor continued. "Are you truly well, Kira?"

"Yeah, I'm—"

A violent urge to vomit hit me so hard it cut off my words. I shoved my chair back, the metal legs screeching against the floor. I bolted, nearly tripping over my own feet as I sprinted for the hallway. I dove into the restroom, my hand clamped over my mouth.

I barely made it into a stall before I hit my knees. I emptied everything into the toilet, heaving until my ribs ached. A cold sweat broke out across my skin. Despite the warmth of the building, I was shivering. My sweater did nothing to dull the unnatural chill in my bones.

I stayed on the floor, gasping. What is wrong with me? Fear settled in my gut. It’s just the flu, I told myself. It was a biological impossibility for a vampire and a werewolf to conceive. But the memory of that night lingered, unbidden and vivid.

I stood and splashed cold water on my face. My reflection looked like a ghost. My skin was pale, my dark curls were a mess, and my eyes... my eyes looked strange. The gold was flickering, almost silver around the edges.

My phone rang. It was Belle.

"What is wrong with you?" she demanded. "You just vanished. Are you okay?"

"I think I’m sick."

"Sick?" she asked. "Malakai is looking for you, by the way."

My heart dropped. "Why?"

"He said your father wants to see both of you before the dinner tonight." Belle’s voice dropped to a whisper. "Kira, your scent is... muffled. It’s damp. Are you sure you didn't catch something at that club?"

"Lycans don't get 'damp,' Belle," I snapped, though the fear was clawing at my throat. I hung up before she could push further.

I walked out of the bathroom and stopped dead. Malakai was leaning against the wall.

Malakai was a wall of aggressive muscle. His blonde hair was cropped short, and his flint-grey eyes scanned me like a problem he intended to solve. He looked furious.

"Are you okay?" he asked, stepping into my personal space. "Halloway said you ran out of class."

He reached out to touch my forehead. I pulled back instinctively. The repulsion was visceral, a physical rejection of his touch.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his eyes judging my reaction.

"I caught a flu," I muttered, trying to push past him. He didn't budge.

"This is why I warned you about the shifting season, Kira. This is what happens when discipline slips,” he said coldly. “Purity isn’t a suggestion, Kira. It’s what keeps us strong.”." He spoke not out of concern, but out of a rigid belief in our strength. To him, my illness was a flaw in the pack's armor.

"I'm fine," I said sharply.

He took off his leather coat and draped it over my shoulders. The heavy scent of him made my stomach somersault.

"You aren't," he said. "I'm taking you to the doctor."

I didn't argue. I couldn't. Malakai never gave me the room, and a part of me desperately needed to know why my body was failing me.

We arrived at the clinic. Uncle Josh, a quiet Alpha who had known me since childhood, took my blood. Malakai stayed in the waiting room, his heavy footsteps echoing as he paced.

Ten minutes later, the doctor walked back in. He looked like he had seen the end of the world. He didn't look at his clipboard; he looked straight at me, his face a pale mask of disbelief.

“Kira…” His voice dropped.

My chest tightened. “Is it the flu?”

He shook his head slowly. “No.”

A pause.

Then—

“You’re pregnant.”

The world stopped. My head spun, the clinical white of the room blurring into a dizzying haze.

"That's impossible," I breathed, my hands trembling under the weight of Malakai’s coat. "I haven't... Malakai and I haven't even bonded yet."

I forced the memory of that night to sink deeper, trying to bury it. He said I wouldn't get pregnant. That vampire’s voice echoed in my mind, smooth and mocking: Vampires can’t get werewolves pregnant. My lips drifted apart as I looked up at Uncle Josh.

"You haven't bonded, so how do you explain the pregnancy?" the doctor asked. His voice wasn't just confused; it was terrified. He paced the small exam room, clutching his clipboard like a shield. "Kira, you are the Lycan King’s daughter. An Alpha heir. To be pregnant before the bonding... it is unheard of. If your father finds out you slept with some random Alpha, he will have his head."

It wasn’t an Alpha, I screamed internally.

My hands shook. I could already see the molten rage on my father’s face. I was as good as dead. If he would kill a wolf for this, what would he do if he discovered the father was a vampire? How was this even happening? Biology was a law of nature, as solid as the moon. Wolves were fire. Vampires were ice. The two didn't mix.

My hand drifted to my stomach. "Run the test again. It’s the flu. It has to be."

Uncle Josh looked like he wanted to believe me. He drew my blood a second time, his movements jerky and uncertain. I kept reciting the facts like a prayer. Vampires are cold. Wolves are fire. Cessian had promised me. The scientists had proven it. It was an error. It had to be an error.

I waited, shivering in the silence of the clinic. Every second felt like a drop of lead hitting the floor.

The door creaked open. Uncle Josh walked back in, but he didn't look like a doctor who had realized his mistake. He looked worse. He didn't even sit down; he just leaned against the counter, staring at the second vial of my blood as if it were a ticking bomb.

"Kira," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I ran it three times. Different methods. Different reagents."

"And?" I demanded, my voice high and brittle. "It’s a mistake, right? My suppressants... I remember now. I took them during my last rut."

"Your last rut?" He interrupted, his eyes pinning me to the chair. "When was your last rut, Kira?"

"Three weeks ago," I replied. My voice sank.

"Did you sleep with an Alpha during your rut?" he questioned, his gaze searching mine. "You were supposed to take your suppressants. What happened three weeks ago?"