Pregnant And Rejected

Chapter 21

Day of the Ceremony

Belene’s POV

My fingers anxiously trace the flowers embroidered into the bodice of my wedding gown it’s a delicate white contera weightless and ethereal I look more like a wood nymph than a bride.

I remember the day we chose it, Bastien and ill was the first dress we found that did not completely overpower my w frame three years ago. We tried countless others first, but the moment i stepped into the gossamer fabric i wen tace said it all.

This is the way of rejection ceremonies Marriages end as they begin.

We will wear the same clothes, meet at the same moonlit altar with friends and family looking on, we’ll even play the samnem Vet instead of vows to love and keep each other we will vow to part. Instead of exchanging rings we’rar more then, and instead of shifting to run together beneath the stars, we’ll divide, forging new paths in directions of our own choosing

Of course, Bastien and I never ran together in the first place. We walked through the forest hand in hand, a sweet concession for the loss of my wolf.

Tonight I expect he will shift, and I have a fairly good idea where he’ll run rather to whom he’ll run.

I’ve replayed my conversation with Arabella over and over in my head. At first I thought I must have misheard her, after all Bacon himself told me Arabella was his mate. Yet the more I ponder our conversation the clearer it becomes Bastien is my mate, or the would have been if I still had Luna, It explains why I always felt connected to him, why he always made me feel safe.

Those horrible women at Gabriel’s birthday were right, I am too broken to be anything but a burden. My one chance to be whole might have been finding the man the goddess chose for me, but fate had other plans.

My mate doesn’t want me without my wolf.

Who could?

pool on my lashes and I suck in a shaky breath, trying to tell myself that one day I might find a wolf

mascara, It doesn’t matter if I’m enough for someone else The only person I want is Bastien, and no matter what I do, or how long I live

Bastien’s POV

Selene, now those horrible dreams are becoming a reality. In less than an hour, we are going to formally end our marriage

my decision to go through with the ceremony. I’m not any happier about it than he is, but I have to do this for Selene. This is

He replies

days. I haven’t been able to think about anything other than the fact that I will never get to hold my mate in my arms again. Not only that, I’m going to have to watch her build

than focusing on things that are truly important like Blaise’s hunt for Volana wolves or my Alpha training. I’ve been wallowing in grief and fantasizing about winning

helped me pick out is sitting on my dresser, wrapped up in a velvet box and decorative paper. When 1 bought it I told myself it was merely a parting gift for Selene, a token of appreciation

again. You think

right of course, there’s nothing I can do or say that will change things now. It’s

it. I have to let

I toss the gift box into the

Gabriel’s POV

remain in my wolf form day and night, but drafting laws and signing treaties is difficult without thumbs. My fingers tug at the windsor knot choking off my air supply, fumbling with the annoying garment as read over the rejection agreement in my

This is not the path I hoped my son would walk. His marriage to Selene started on difficult footing, but the struggle was never between them. For all the

shadow, but she was never afraid of her mate, and caring for Selene had softened Bastien in so many ways. Watching her heal and

at the person responsible for his pain, but I know it isn’t Selene’s fault. In the end I suppose Garrick’s torture was too much to overcome. If anyone is to blame it’s

attention. I drag my eyes from the document on my desk, eyeing the fluttering fabric curiously. The doors were closed when I entered my office, and no

an unmistakable draft of cool air wafts through the room. My hackles raise as I scent a strange wolf, my mind racing to understand how anyone could have gotten past my heightened senses. My gaze jumps to the goblet of wine by my computer, but

my periphery, illuminated by the dim terrace lanterns. He’s tall and thin, dressed in all black and exuding undisguised hostility. Green eyes glow in the darkness, but I can’t see anything more

complaint,” I begin, for it’s clear that’s what he has, “only cowards hide in the

I can’t place it. “You