Page 62 of Betrayed Knocked-Up Mate

Where to even start? How to explain five years of choices that seemed right at the time but only caused more pain? The words tangle in my throat, thick with regret and, fear and desperate love.

"I was in my early twenties when Kane killed them," I begin, and feel her go very still beside me. "Young, stupid, drunk on dreams of following my father's legacy. I think you already—we knew each other. We were… involved. But I couldn’t talk about it. I missed my father more than anything in the world. He was building something incredible—a future where humans and shifters could coexist openly. Where we'd be stronger together than apart."

The memories threaten to choke me, but I keep going. I can’t stop now.

"Kane's people caught them in the house I grew up in. They made my father watch, and then they killed him too.” My voice breaks. "Someone told me once that Mom had been pregnant. I didn’t want to believe it, and I still don’t want to… know. They’d been trying, but…”

Camila's hand finds mine, fingers interlacing. The simple contact grounds me, gives me strength to continue.

"I can’t think about it often,” I confess. “So I try not to. But he made promises while they died. He would… he would call. Leave messages. Said he'd hunt down anyone I ever loved. Said he'd make me watch as he destroyed everything my parents worked for. And then in California, when you told me we were mates..." I swallow hard. "I thought if I pushed you away, if I denied the bond, he couldn't use you against me. Couldn't hurt you like he hurt them."

"Oh, Marcus." Her voice carries no judgment, only understanding that breaks my heart. "You carried that alone all this time?"

"Had to keep you safe." The words taste like ash. "But I failed at that too, didn't I? He found you anyway. Nearly killed our child before it's even born."

She shifts closer, one hand rising to cup my cheek. The touch burns hotter than any fever. "Look at me."

I obey, drowning in the warm, dark brown of her stare.

"You didn't fail," she says fiercely. "You survived. You kept fighting. And when it mattered most, you taught me how to be strong in ways that had nothing to do with shifter abilities. Those five years I spent running? They made me someone who could stand beside you as an equal. Someone who could protect our child when you couldn't."

"I never wanted—"

"I know." Her thumb traces my cheekbone, wiping away moisture I hadn't realized was there. "You wanted to shield me from everything. But that's not how a partnership works. That's not how love works. And the only thing in the whole world I want you to learn from what happened is that you need to tell me… when things happen. You need to tell me, Marcus. Anything, everything. I just need to… know. I can’t be in the dark again.” Her voice is choked. “I’ll spend the rest of my life with you, Marcus, so long as you don’t do that to me again.”

The word hits me like a physical blow. "Camila..."

"Let me finish." Her other hand presses against her stomach, and the gesture makes my wolf whine with fierce joy. "Kane thought love made us weak. Your parents proved him wrong by dying for what they believed in. We proved him wrong by living for it. By choosing each other, choosing hope, choosing to face our fears together instead of running from them. And I’m…" She laughs, a half-sob. “I’m proud of us for that.”

She's right. Gods, she's right. All these years trying to protect her, and all I did was deny us both the strength that comes from standing together.

My hands shake as I reach for her, pressing my palm over hers where it rests against our child. The contact sends electricity through my flickering senses—I can almost imagine the tiny heartbeat beneath her skin, can smell the way her scent mingles with mine, the mate bond singing between us like a symphony I've spent five years trying not to hear.

"I'm sorry," I breathe against her temple. "For pushing you away. For not trusting our bond. For thinking I had to carry everything alone. I should have told you everything.”

"I know." She turns her face into my touch, and the simple intimacy of it steals my breath. "I'm sorry, too. For not understanding why. For letting fear drive me halfway across the world instead of fighting for us."

"No more running?" The words come out half question, half prayer.

Her smile could outshine the sun. "No more running. No more lies.”

When I kiss her, it feels like coming home. Every mile between California and here has led to this moment, this choice, this acceptance of everything we are together. Her lips part beneath mine with a soft sound that makes my wolf howl in triumph, and suddenly, I can't get close enough. Need to taste her, touch her, brand myself with her scent until there's no doubt who she belongs to.

Who I belong to.

Even through the suppression of my shift, the mate bond flares between us like wildfire as I finally, finally stop fighting it. Every point of contact burns with recognition—her hands in my hair, my fingers splayed across her stomach, our hearts beating in perfect synchronization. She tastes like gunsmoke and victory and future, and I drink her in like a dying man finding water.

"Mine," I growl against her mouth, and feel her smile.

"Yours," she agrees, nipping at my lower lip. "Always was, even when we were too stubborn to admit it."

The admission breaks something loose in my chest. My hands roam possessively over her body, mapping familiar curves made new by the knowledge of our child growing beneath her skin. When she arches into my touch with a soft moan, the sound goes straight to my core.

"Need you," I manage between kisses that grow increasingly desperate. "Need to feel you. To know you're real, you're here, you're—"

"Yours," she breathes again, and the word unravels the last of my control.

What happens next feels as inevitable as gravity. Clothes vanish beneath urgent hands as we stumble into the truck's back seat, need overwhelming any thought of waiting or moving somewhere more comfortable. She straddles my lap with practiced grace, and the first slide of her body against mine tears a sound from my throat that's more wolf than human.

---