From Rejected Mate to Luna (Julia White) novel Chapter 237

From Rejected Mate to Luna

Chapter 237

Julia’s POV

Rain taps a slow rhythm on the cabin roof when it hits.

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55

At first, it just feels like another cramp. I’ve been getting those all week–tight band of pressure squeezing my lower belly, then easing. Enough to make me grumble, not enough to send me calling Olivia in the middle of the night.

I shift on my side, tug the blanket up, try to find that one sweet spot where my back doesn’t ache. Matthew is a warm, solid weight behind me, one arm thrown over my waist like he thinks he can hold the whole world in place.

Then the pressure tightens again–harder, lower. It makes me suck in a breath.

Kaia lifts her head inside me, ears pricked. Now.

“I’m fine,” I whisper to nobody, to her, to the dark. The cabin smells like pine and laundry soap and Matthew’s skin. Safe. Normal.

The pressure crests–and something inside me pops.

It’s not loud. Just a strange little internal snap and then a rush of warmth between my legs, soaking my underwear, sliding down the inside of my thigh. For a heartbeat I’m frozen.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

‘Matthew,” I say, my voice higher than usual. I clear my throat. “Matthew.”

He doesn’t move. Typical. The Alpha who can wake up if a twig cracks on the far edge of his territory is dead to the world when it’s just me and the rain and–this.

I put my hand on his chest and shove. “Matthew.”

He jolts like I dumped ice water on him. His body comes up off the mattress, eyes flashed bright blue in the dim room, a low growl already rumbling before his brain catches up.

“What’s wrong? What is it? His scent spikes–adrenaline, sharp lemon under his usual pine.

I swallow another little bubble of panic and try to keep my voice steady. “Um. I think… my water just broke.”

He stares at me for half a second, like the words are in French and his jet–lagged brain can’t translate. Then everything happens at once.

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16:41 Sat, May 16

Chapter 237

He tosses the blankets back, swings his legs over the side of the bed, and starts patting the floor like he expects to find his jeans by

echolocation.

Okay. Okay, we–we knew this could happen. It’s fine. Bag’s by the door. Keys… where the hell are my keys? Phone. I need to call James.

Call Olivia. Shoes–shit, where are my shoes?”

He stands up, still half tangled in the sheet, nearly falls, catches himself on the dresser, grabs a T–shirt from the chair and manages to

put it on backwards.

Despite the hot, weird dampness between my legs and the way my belly tightens again, a breathless laugh tries to escape my throat.

Matthew, I grit out, bracing one hand on my stomach.

He whips around, eyes searching me like I might be bleeding out. “What? Contraction? How bad? We should’ve timed them. I should’ve

bought a stopwatch or something-

“Hey.” I reach for him with my free hand, fingers catching the hem of his misbuttoned shirt. “You could maybe… help me stand up first,

before you save the world?”

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