Reclaimed By My Alpha (Natalia and Andrei) novel Chapter 1

NATALIA

Positive. Estimated gestation: eight weeks.

I stared down at the small slip of paper the nurse had just handed me. A few sparse lines filled with numbers, hormone readings, and bolded words that I found myself reading repeatedly, as if by sheer will they might transform into something else entirely.

“Congratulations, Luna. You’re two months pregnant.”

Suddenly, the room seemed to blur around me. The sharp scent of antiseptic hung heavily in the air, and the clinic’s pristine white walls felt overwhelmingly bright, sterile to the point of coldness. I blinked rapidly, convinced I must have misheard those words.

“Pregnant?” I murmured, my voice barely audible, rough and fragile like it had been scraped across gravel.

My hand instinctively moved to rest on my abdomen. There was no visible change—no bulge, no fluttering movement—but inside, I felt something shift so deeply it took the air from my lungs.

Pregnant. Carrying Andrei’s child.

And yet, only thirty days remained before our marriage contract would expire.

My mind spun wildly, emotions crashing over me in a turbulent flood—joy, fear, and a fragile, trembling hope. For so long, I had clung to the dream of a future with him. Not the one inked in cold contract terms, but one we could choose together. Something real. And now, perhaps…

Maybe this would change everything.

The nurse smiled warmly, pressing a printout into my hands. “Two months along. Healthy vitals. Congratulations again.”

There was no ultrasound image, no flicker of a heartbeat on a screen. Just sterile data. Clinical. Impersonal. Yet utterly undeniable.

Still, my hands shook as I gripped the paper, as if the fragile sheet might crumble beneath the weight of its meaning.

Within me, a new life had already begun.

A fresh thread woven into the tapestry of fate—one I never imagined I would get to create.

My child.

Our child.

I pressed the paper close to my heart and closed my eyes, willing my breath to slow, to steady.

Our marriage had never been about love. It was a transaction, a strategic alliance forged by a man who had lost everything—and a girl who had nothing left to lose.

When Andrei found me, I was barely surviving. A broken pack overrun by rogues had left me orphaned, invisible, insignificant. I hadn’t expected anything beyond another harsh winter.

But then he rode in with his warriors, cold and fierce like a storm. Fate struck in that moment. One glance—and I knew. My wolf knew.

We were mates.

Yet fate, I soon learned, was not always merciful.

Even as his eyes met mine with recognition, there was a distance there. A barrier, as if a door had been bolted shut from the inside, and he had no intention of opening it again.

Andrei had offered marriage—not love. A five-year contract laid out like a business agreement.

We would wed. I would serve as Luna. After five years, we would reject each other unless he chose otherwise. I had no say in the matter.

At first, I believed the contract was because I was an orphan—Alphas are always cautious. But it didn’t take long to realize the truth.

The real reason… was Lilith.

Her name haunted our home like a ghost, lingering in the walls and shadows. Her portraits still hung in the hallways. Her books remained untouched in the study. Her perfume clung to the bedroom drawers, as if she might return at any moment to reclaim her place beside him.

Andrei had loved her deeply. Everyone knew it. At her funeral, he vowed never to mark another. That his heart was buried with her. I suppose I had foolishly hoped that being his mate meant something stronger. Something unbreakable.

Because I believed—no, I desperately hoped—that time might soften his grief. That if I poured enough of myself into this bond, showed him unwavering loyalty and grace—if I became the perfect Luna—he might one day look at me the way he once looked at her.

For four long years, I had tried to be the Luna his pack needed—the partner he never asked for but clearly required. I ran ceremonies, managed the infirmary, resolved disputes, protected the young, stood by him at every council meeting. I never once demanded more.

But inside, I craved everything. The bond. The mark. His love.

And with each passing year, that hope began to flicker, dimming slowly.

Now, with only thirty days left, I had steeled myself for the inevitable end. I had even started packing a few small things away, imagining what life might become after rejection—cast out from the pack I had come to call home, from the people I had grown to love, from him.

But now…

A child.

Andrei’s child.

Werewolves revered their offspring. Children were proof of legacy, power, and purpose. A bond made flesh. Surely he could not ignore that.

My heart skipped a beat. Logic tried to reason—perhaps a healer, a visitor, the wife of an envoy. But deep inside, my wolf bristled with unease.

I moved cautiously, grocery bag still in hand, fingers tightening around the handles as I approached the bedroom door. I reached out.

It wasn’t locked.

The door opened with unsettling ease.

And inside—

Andrei sat on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped tenderly around a woman, murmuring softly into her hair. She clung to him, tears quietly falling, curling into his embrace as though she belonged there.

He turned at the sound of the door opening.

The expression on his face—

Not fear. Not guilt.

Just surprise. And perhaps… discomfort. As if he’d been caught in something intimate yet unavoidable.

He gently pulled away from her. She wiped her eyes delicately, her fingers trembling.

And I saw her.

Her face was instantly familiar.

For one thing, she looked strikingly like me. Everyone in the pack had remarked on our resemblance at one time or another.

So of course, I had memorized her face without meaning to. Her smile haunted every photograph still hanging in the halls. Her perfume lingered, untouched, on his nightstand. Her name was etched into every corner of this house—though most dared not speak it aloud.

Lilith.

The dead were supposed to remain buried.

But here she was. Alive.

And in his arms.