Page 9 of Bully Alpha's Pregnant Mate

I keep my mask firmly in place, returning polite smiles, nodding at the endless stream of well-wishers, trying to ignore the way my stomach churns with every new face, every forced smile. My parents approach, and my mother’s eyes are misting over as she takes my hands, squeezing them a little too tightly.

“You did beautifully, Izzy,” she says, her voice choked. “You’re going to make a wonderful luna. I just know it.”

I give her a small smile, nodding as she pulls me into a hug. I can feel the weight of her relief and her gratitude, and it only makes the knot in my stomach tighten further.

Then there’s Quincey, wearing that mischievous grin as he claps Alec on the back. “Look at you two,” he says. “Who would’ve thought? The bookworm and the golden boy, finally tying the knot. Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“Glad we could keep things interesting for you,” I mutter.

Alec raises a brow, and the corners of his mouth twitch. “‘Interesting’ is one way to put it.”

Before I can come up with a retort, the crowd’s attention shifts. A collective thought seems to pass through the room before someone calls out, “First dance!”

My heart sinks. Of course they’d drag us out for a dance, wouldn’t they?

I try to keep my face neutral as Alec offers his hand. I remind myself to keep my guard up, to steel myself for whatever comment he’ll throw my way once we’re out there, surrounded by our so-called audience.

But as soon as his hand wraps around mine, pulling me in, he surprises me by staying silent. He doesn’t taunt, doesn’t lean in with some sly remark about my two left feet. Instead, his hand finds my waist, settling there like it belongs, and I’m suddenly aware of just how close we’re standing.

The crowd cheers and claps, raising their glasses, oblivious to the tension humming between us. I try to focus on anything but Alec, but he’s making it impossible. He’s looking down at me, his expression calm, thoughtful even, as if he’s seeing me for the first time.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I blink, taken aback. “Why do you care?”

For a second, there’s something in his eyes that I can’t read, something almost… genuine. But then he just shrugs, and that guarded expression slips back into place.

“Just thought I’d check,” he responds. His fingers press into the small of my back, pulling me a fraction closer. The warmth wafting off his body is unsettling, and I try to ignore the way it sends an odd little flutter through my chest.

But the crowd isn’t satisfied with us just dancing. Someone shouts, “Kiss the bride!” and the chant spreads. BeforeI know it, everyone is clapping, their laughter ringing out like they’re all in on some kind of joke.

Alec glances down at me, waiting for my reaction. I expect him to look amused, smug even, but he just watches me, his gaze steady, almost… tender? It throws me off, and I feel my cheeks warm under his stare.

“Guess we’d better give them what they want,” he says softly with a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I open my mouth to protest, to remind him that this is ridiculous, that this isn’t some romantic fairytale. But before I can get a single word out, he leans in. His hand slides up my back, his fingers brushing against the bare skin just above the dress line.

And then he kisses me.

It’s not a quick, obligatory kiss meant to appease the crowd. At least, it doesn’t feel that way. It’s slow and warm, like he’s trying to make a point. My heart skips a beat, and before I can stop myself, I’m leaning into it, feeling my resolve slip away, even if it’s only for a second. His hand moves up, resting against my cheek, and I’m lost in the warmth of his touch, the unexpected softness of it.

The crowd erupts in cheers. Glasses clink around us, and voices rise in playful, drunken chants, but it’s all a blur. For a brief, stolen moment, it feels like it’s just us, like maybe this whole thing could be something more than duty and obligation.

But then reality crashes in, a sharp, bitter reminder. I pull back, breaking the kiss, and a strange feeling settles in my chest as I realize the truth. This isn’t for me. It’s not real. He’s just doing what he’s supposed to, putting on a show, giving the crowd exactly what they expect from their alpha.

I take a small step back, clearing my throat as I straighten, trying to ignore the strange sense of loss that comes with the distance. Alec’s watching me, keeping his expression carefully blank, but I can see a hint of something else there. A flicker of satisfaction, maybe. Or relief.

My parents beam at us from across the room, and my siblings laugh as they join the cheering crowd. Everyone seems blissfully unaware of the battle raging in my head.

“Well, that was quite the performance,” I comment.

Alec tilts his head. “Who says it was just a performance?”

I scoff, rolling my eyes. “Please. You’re not fooling me, Alec. We both know why you’re doing this.”

He doesn’t argue or deny it, and something in me sours as the truth settles in. Of course, this is about them—the pack, the council, the image he has to maintain as alpha. I was foolish to think, even for a second, that there could be anything more to this union.

I won’t make that mistake again.

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