Page 4 of Abandoned By My Alpha Husband

He groaned loudly, thrusts growing erratic but still strong, chasing his own release while prolonging mine.

Even after that, he didn't pull out. He slowed but kept moving, deep and languid now, letting me catch my breath while still keeping me full.

Is this what a werewolf's stamina is like?

His hands roamed my body—stroking my back, cupping my breasts, teasing my nipples until I was whimpering again. I was exhausted, blessed out, yet already feeling the stirrings of fresh heat low in my belly.

This night was far from over. He was nowhere near done with me, and the thought sent a thrill through my spent body.

I woke to sunlight streaming through the curtain gaps. The bedside clock read 6 a.m. The man was gone. I struggled to sit up. Every part of me ached, especially between my thighs. I barely looked down. A mess, still streaked with white sticky fluid.

I slowly turned on my side. The pain radiating through my body made me gasp. More shameful—I could feel what he'd left inside me leaking out, sliding down my inner thigh. I glanced down once, then immediately looked away.

My clothes were completely ruined. Torn fabric scattered everywhere. I found a blanket draped over the sofa and wrapped it around myself, trembling.

The mirror was on the opposite wall. Last night, I hadn't dared look, because looking would make me see from outside just how wanton I'd been, how active. Now I saw myself—hair a mess, face flushed unnaturally, neck, collarbone, chest covered in bruises, like I'd been mauled by a beast.

I felt that strange emptiness inside. Hard to describe—like I'd lost something important.

The air still held that cedar and amber scent, mixed with the heady aftermath of sex. I took a deep breath.

What am I doing?

Am I actually... smelling him?

Too weird.

I struggled to stand. My legs were still weak. My body felt like it had been claimed, marked everywhere. I looked around and found some men's clothes in the closet. I put on a white shirt that almost covered my butt, pulled my uniform skirt back on, letting the shirt barely hide the parts he'd torn.

I hurried out, practically fled.

"Elena, are you sick? You look terrible."

Jenny looked up from the living room. She was my werewolf roommate, worked at a nearby coffee shop.

"No, just tired lately." I set down my fragrance bottle, rubbing my temples.

This was the third time recently I'd felt nauseous. Three months ago, I'd quit the bar. I was always exhausted. Decided to focus on expanding my fragrance business instead.

On my worktable sat various ingredients—rose oil, mint leaves, frankincense, myrrh... Usually, my favorite scents. But today they made me want to vomit.

"You sure?" Jenny walked over, leaned against the door frame, bit into an apple, wrinkling her nose. "You smell weird."

I froze. "What?"

"Just..." She tilted her head and bit into her apple again. "How do I put it... Something's off. Have you been—"

Before she could finish, nausea suddenly surged. I covered my mouth and rushed to the bathroom, bent over the toilet, dry-heaving.

"Girl." Jenny followed, leaning in the doorway, still munching her apple. "I'm just saying, you might be pregnant."

I braced myself on the sink and splashed cold water on my face. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not being ridiculous." Jenny shrugged. "You've been throwing up constantly, you look like hell, and... your scent really has changed. You know my wolf nose doesn't lie. You smell like my pregnant cousin."

"Impossible." I denied immediately. "How could I be pregnant? I don't even have a boyfriend—"

Halfway through the sentence, that night three months ago struck like lightning.