Todos los capítulos de Alpha's Regret: Chasing My Pregnant Luna: Capítulo 61 - Capítulo 70

Ivy’s POVThe beans are still warm in my hands.Freshly roasted, their scent rises with the steam curling into the mountain air; dark, rich, and steady, like the deep hum of a cello string. I cradle the burlap sack closer to my chest, pressing my cheek against its rough weave.Obsidian Brew coffee beans.It had taken me two days of searching, bargaining, and waiting to get them from an old grower reluctant to part with such a rare batch. Emilia’s voice drifts into my memory, soft and certain as if she were standing beside me.“He doesn’t care for sweets, my dear. But coffee—oh, that’s different. Strong, with a bitter edge first, then warmth. There’s a particular kind he always prefers. Obsidian Brew.”That was years ago. Back when Alexander’s gaze could still undo me, when I thought we were inevitable.I shouldn’t have remembered. Shouldn’t ha

Ivy’s POVI pace outside the grand conference room, palms pressed flat against my skirt to hide the way they tremble. Every tick of the gilded clock above the doorway scrapes against my nerves.Behind those doors, the judges are casting their votes. My fate is being sealed in the quiet scratch of pens and folded slips of paper, while I can only wait and imagine every possibility.My chest feels tight, as though every anxious beat of my heart might betray me.It should be enough that I made it back to the capital in time, that my dessert samples were delivered still fresh, the fruits of endless sleepless nights.But as I stand here, waiting, the memory of the storm presses in. Alexander’s broad shoulders beneath my palms, the steady rhythm of his stride carrying me down the mountain, the shocking softness in his voice when he said it: I am sorry.The words had pierced deeper than I wanted to admit. For so long, I

Alexander’s POVI don’t sleep a wink.Her body trembles against me long after the fire in her veins begins to ebb, long after her sobs quiet into ragged breaths. I hold her through it all, my arms refusing to let go, my wolf growling low in my chest, steady, constant, like a vow I never gave her before.When at last her lashes flutter shut and her breathing steadies, I ease back just enough to look at her face. Even in sleep, her skin shines with a fever-sheen, her brow furrowed as though some invisible weight refuses to leave her be.My gaze drops lower.To the faint marks scattered along the inside of her arm. Tiny scars, needle-points, some faded, some still sharp.Inhibitors.A brutal necessity to curb the pain of heat. I thought she would never have to go through that. That, because she didn’t have her wolf, she would never face the excruciating effects of the heat cycle.Yet … sh

Ivy’s POVFor a heartbeat, I cannot breathe.His lips crush against mine, fierce, unyielding, real. Not a fever dream, not a phantom of my longing, but Alexander kissing me here and now.My heart lurches, my wolf howls with aching relief, but my mind reels. He is supposed to be choosing his bride tonight. He is supposed to be smiling at noble ladies and charming their fathers, not dragging me into a corner and claiming me like this.A bolt of panic spears through my chest. I shove at him with trembling hands. “Alexander, stop!”But his grip only tightens, refusing to let me go, his heat overwhelming every inch of me. The confusion, the hurt, the bitter knowledge of what this ball means; it all crashes over me at once. I push harder, writhing against his hold, desperate to free myself.And then it happens.In the tangle of his arm and my struggling hand, my palm slips, the angle sharp, the force too strong to

Ivy’s POVEven after all this time has passed, the evening air still feels electric, holding the lingering memory of Alexander’s furious kiss. I can’t stop my hand from reaching up to touch my lips as I step onto my path. He tore through my defenses, and I feel like my skin is still humming from the heat of his touch.But the humming stops immediately.Something is wrong.I see the trucks first; three large, anonymous moving company vans parked directly across the street from my house. They are blocking half the road, and workers in uniforms are hoisting dark, expensive-looking furniture out of a fourth, smaller truck.And then I see Mr. Peterson, my landlord who owns most of the houses on the street, standing next to the long-vacant house right beside mine. He is beaming, his face red with excitement, flapping his hands like a proud pigeon as he supervises the chaos.I walk over, frowning. That house has been empt