Page 78 of Rejected and Pregnant By the Alpha King

“No, I—” Her eyes search mine. “Isn’t that kind of…aren’t I supposed to be havingyourheir?”

“Genetics are rather subjective. Don’t you agree?”

She blinks at me. “What?”

Well, I didn’t exactly plan on havingthisconversation now. I’d hoped we could stave it off for at least another month or so. Raine is apparently determined to keep me on my toes. “Heirs are subjective. What makes an ‘heir?’ If the pack accepts the next in line, what does it matter whose DNA has contributed to it?”

Raine’s jaw drops open—a sight I’m not at all surprised to see. “What?”

Stars…I should’ve dragged her back home and put her to bed.

Instead I took a page out of Wren’s book and tried to make her feel more comfortable bytalking. And look where it’s gotten me. This is all his fault for suggesting I make nice with our pack’s breeder instead of leaving that job up to Rose.

“Are you trying to tell me that you’re not going to make me kill my baby?” Her hand presses harder over her stomach.

“Will the father be coming after you to claim it?”

Her expression darkens suddenly. “Absolutely not.”

Interesting.

“Then no, I won’t make you get rid of it.”

Her confusion is palpable, but unless she asks directly for my reasoning, I’m not telling her. She doesn’t really need to know anyway. What difference would it make in the grand scheme of things? If she wants to keep her child, the one she made withwhomever, then so be it.

My pack’s claim,my claim, over it will remain the same. We will raise it as the next alpha regent and that will be that.

“What if it’s a girl?” she asks.

I shrug.

“That’s…you?” Raine turns and throws the pellets in her hand at the fish, causing them to chaotically splash at the surface, trying to greedily eat up all of them before they get a chance to sink to the bottom. “What the hell? No alphaking?”

“I’m not partial to gender, Raine.”

“Why?”

“What does it matter?”

“Whywouldn’t it matter?” she hisses back at me.

I snort. Well, if this would’ve been all it took for her to break out of the small and demure personality she’d shoved herself into, perhaps I would’ve done something like this a while ago.

“My elders aren’t that interested in who takes my place, as long as there issomeonelined up: a child who I raise. That is it,” I explain.

“So any child will do? Why not just pick up an orphan off the street, then?”

“Because it needs to look like it’s actually mine to the packs under me.”

Realization dawns in her eyes. “Oh.”

“Hence, a breeder.”

She nods slowly. “Butyourpack doesn’t care?”

“No. They don’t.”

“Do they know? Your pack? That you’re doing all of this?”

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