Page 21 of Alpha's Exiled Mate

Tears slipped down my cheeks, glinting like pearls in the moonlight. I’d never wanted anything so fiercely. Perock had to live, to have the future he deserved.

“I’ll give anything,” I continued, my voice trembling. “My life, my soul, if it means his salvation. Let our bond bring life, let that life be his redemption.”

If my pain could buy him a lifetime, what was the cost of childbirth compared to that? My wolf whimpered within, yearning for her mate, the bond between us so strong it ached.

I don’t know how long I had been kneeling, but when I finally stood up to leave, I felt that my legs had gone numb.

The night air chilly against my damp cheeks. The wind rustled through the treetops, a soft whisper that felt like ananswer to my prayer. In the distance, faint footsteps broke the silence. My heart quickened.

“Is someone there?” I called warily, my pulse racing.

No response came, only the murmur of the breeze and the distant hoot of an owl.

Perhaps it was my imagination.

But for a split second, I could almost feel it—Perock was right there, he stood just beyond the shadows, watching.

Chapter 7

Perock

I walked the winding gravel path through the palace grounds, the cool night breeze brushing against my face, carrying the sharp scent of pine and distant rain. This was my ritual—when my thoughts tangled into knots too tight to unravel, I’d seek the quiet of the darkness, letting the solitude steady me.

As I wove through a dense cluster of shrubs, I rounded a bend and froze mid-step. My breath caught in my throat.

Here again.

The palace garden stretched before me, their moonlit paths winding through roses and ancient oaks, a place of quiet beauty I’d rarely visited before. Yet, lately, I found myself drawn here, my feet carrying me to this spot under the guise of a late-night walk. I told myself it was just a random habit, a need for solitude to untangle the chaos in my mind. But deep down, I knew better. Her quarters were just beyond the garden’s edge, and the pull to be near her—Viossi, or whoever she truly was—grew stronger with each passing night.

I refused to admit it, even to myself, but my wolf betrayed me, letting out a low, contented rumble that vibrated through my chest. Tonight, though, something was different.

I felt he paced restlessly within, his unease mirroring my own as a faint, familiar scent drifted on the breeze—rain-soaked leaves and warm morning light, delicate yet unmistakable.

Her scent.

My gaze drifted, almost against my will, to the heart of the garden, where an ancient oak stood. There, bathed in a pool of silver moonlight, was a fragile figure I’d come to recognize too well. Viossi.

The realization hit me like a quiet shock: I’d memorized her every movement, her silhouette, the way her presence seemed to anchor the world around her. Even from this distance, shrouded in shadows, I knew it was her.

She knelt beneath the oak, her hands clasped tightly, her dark curls swaying gently in the night breeze. The moonlight traced the curve of her cheek, casting a soft glow across her face, as if the Moon Goddess herself were listening. She hadn’t noticed me, lost in a private moment, her head bowed in reverence.

What was she doing here?

“I shouldn’t care,” I muttered, my voice swallowed by the darkness. As I turned to leave, the sound of her prayer reached me, soft and fervent.

“Please let me bear his child. Let me save his life.”

My heart skipped, a jolt of disbelief rooting me to the earth.

“I don’t ask for his love, only to free him from this cruel curse.”

“I’ll give anything—my life, my soul—if it means his salvation.”

Her words trembled with raw, unshakable sincerity, each syllable heavy with sacrifice.

I slowly turned around and saw her tears glistened on her cheeks, catching the moonlight like scattered pearls, their quiet fall a testament to the depth of her plea.

A strange, unfamiliar ache bloomed in my chest, sharp and consuming, as if her pain had somehow become mine.