Page 72 of Princess Redeemed
I sigh as my nausea subsides.I rise and face him, my beautiful wolf.
“I do.I love you, Victor Rogan.I love you, and I’m going to prove to you that I didnotdo this.”
As the memory fades away, I face Alara.“I told him I’d prove to him that I did not cut out those hearts.”
“And you have,” she says.“He knows now that you’re not his fated mate.”
“Which means he knows his true mate—the wolf he’s with now—is the one.”
“Yes,” Alara says gently.“And she’s no doubt filling his head with reasons that he’s making sense of because of the force with which he’s being drawn to her.She lies to him, speaks in ways only he can understand because of the energy between them.”Alara’s eyes darken and her jaw tenses.“She means to harm you and your son, Hannah.Rogan will be forced to choose between those he loves and the person to whom he’s drawn, body and soul.”
“But not heart?”I ask.
“No.His heart belongs to you and your child.She will never have that.”
“How am I supposed to compete with fate?”I shake my head, ball my hands into fists.“I love him, Alara.His child needs him.”
“His mate meanshimno harm,” Alara says.“She’s feeling the same things, after all.But she’s not who she seems to be.”
“Who is she, then?”
“I don’t know.I wish Iwereclairvoyant so I could help you figure it out.But she’s hiding something—something she may not even be aware of—and there is one threat to her.”
“Me,” I say softly.
“Yes, one threat for now.”Alara drops her gaze to my abdomen.“Soon there will be two, and Hannah, you must listen to me carefully.”
I swallow, nodding.
“Your childmustsurvive.The livelihood of everyone on this planet depends on it.”
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Alara’s wordscut into me, infuse me with something I can’t name.
Your childmustsurvive.The livelihood of everyone on this planet depends on it.
That’s a lot of pressure to put on a baby who hasn’t even been born yet.Hasn’t taken a breath.
It’s a hell of a lot of pressure to put on his mother as well.
I gulp back the fear for my child, for myself.
“Tell me what to do.”
Her violet eyes pierce me with a gaze full of gravity.“Again, Hannah.Lift the stone again.”
I nod, gather my focus, and repeat the exercise.
And I fail.
“Why?”I ball my hands into fists.“Why is it harder this time?”
“The second time is always more difficult.But the third time will be easier.”
I close my eyes, try to concentrate.My hands go absently to my belly, to my child.He flutters within me, though he’s too young yet to actually kick so I can sense it.Still, he’s there.I feel him.
And I draw strength from the love I have for him.
