My Husband Drugged Himself To Avoid Our Wedding Night — Now I’m Pregnant And Running For My Life
Part 2
His mouth crashed down on mine before I could even process the promise.
Seven years of denied hunger broke free in a single, desperate kiss.
My hands tangled in his thick hair as he backed me toward the bed.
His teeth scraped against my pulse point.
My wolf surged forward, demanding to be claimed.
I arched my neck, gasping his name.
He bit down, the mating mark searing my skin with a burst of heat and profound relief.
We belonged to each other now.
I woke the next morning wrapped in his arms, resting my cheek against his solid chest.
I smiled, feeling the raw contentment radiating through our new bond.
Then his breathing shifted.
Awareness returned to him, followed instantly by a wave of crushing panic.
Scrambling backward in a blind panic, he clutched the heavy silk sheets defensively against his chest.
Staring at the bruised mating mark on my throat, his expression twisted into a mask of pure horror.
Choking out a ragged apology, he claimed the entire night was a terrible mistake made outside his right mind.
Before I could stop him, he dressed and practically ran from the room.
I sat shivering in the cold bed until my sister Brenda slipped through the door.
She beamed, asking if the kingdom finally had an heir.
I sobbed, telling her that Craig regretted everything.
Brenda’s smile vanished.
She sat beside me, wringing her hands nervously.
She confessed that the potion she gave me wasn’t just a fertility tonic.
She had slipped it into his wine the night of the ball.
It was an alpha amplifier.
It didn’t just lower his inhibitions; it forced his primal instincts to the surface.
Bile rose in my throat.
My own sister had drugged my husband, stripping him of his choice.
For three agonizing weeks, Craig avoided me completely.
He spoke to me only during council meetings, never looking me in the eye.
Then the morning sickness started.
I was finally pregnant.
Joy and terror warred in my chest as I walked to his private study to tell him.
I raised my hand to knock, but the head healer’s voice drifted through the wood.
The healer confessed that the potion Brenda used was an illegal amplifier.
Silence stretched inside the room, thick and terrible.
Then Craig’s voice cracked.
I felt his sheer terror through our bond.
He paced the floor, his boots heavy on the wood, asking the healer what would happen if I was already pregnant.
He sounded devastated.
He sounded like the idea of my baby was a death sentence.
I backed away from the door, pressing my hands to my stomach.
I found Brenda and told her we had to run before he could lock me away.
We slipped through the servant passages and out into the biting wind.
As I saddled my horse in the dead of night, one terrifying thought kept echoing in my mind: what kind of monster was I carrying that made my own husband so afraid?
Part 3
Megan tightened the leather saddle strap with shaking hands.
Her breath plumed white in the cold air of the stables, misting against the cold stone walls.
As she hoisted herself onto the gray mare, a thought echoed in her mind.
She believed her husband, King Craig, feared the child growing in her womb was a monster.
A terrifying sense of dread settled deep in her bones.
Swallowing a sob, Megan mounted her horse, glancing back at the spires of the castle she had called home for seven years.
Wrapped in a wool cloak, Brenda rode silently beside her.
Pushing the iron gates open, the two women disappeared into the winter night.
Snow fell in sheets as they rode deeper into the northern forest.
Snow buried the path, slowing the horses to a crawl.
Shivering, Megan pulled the collar higher around her ears, struggling to block out the wind.
Every gust felt like ice slicing through her heavy layers.
Deep within her mind, her wolf whined a hum of distress.
Severing the physical proximity to a newly bonded mate was an act of trauma.
Instead of the warm glow she had felt just weeks ago, a tear festered in her chest.
Ignoring the pain, she focused her eyes on the tree line..
They had to put as much distance as possible between her unborn child and the king who wanted it gone.
Guiding her horse around fallen branches, Brenda kept casting glances back.
The older sister knew the realities of bonding sickness better than anyone, yet she remained silent, prioritizing their escape.
The landscape offered no shelter, stretching endlessly into the horizon.
Occasionally, the distant howl of a timber wolf sent fresh spikes of adrenaline through Megan’s system.
She kept a grip on the reins, leaning low over the mare’s neck to shield her stomach from the freezing gusts.
Her thoughts spiraled, replaying the words she had overheard in the healer’s study.
Every step away from the castle felt like tearing a vital organ from her own body.
Yet the maternal instinct to protect her unborn child overrode the agony of the severed bond.
Hours bled into a timeless blur before the hunting cottage finally appeared through the trees.
Tucked against the base of a cliff, the wooden structure offered their only refuge.
Dismounting, Megan felt her knees buckle the moment her boots hit the snow.
Brenda caught her just in time, supporting her weight as they stumbled toward the wooden door.
Inside, it smelled of old ash and damp timber.
Rushing to the stone hearth, Brenda quickly sparked a fire, feeding dry logs into the flames until a orange glow filled the single room.
She guided Megan to a cot in the corner, covering her with every available woolen blanket.
Despite the rising heat, shivers racked Megan’s frame.
The bonding sickness had taken root faster than they anticipated, accelerated by the state of her early pregnancy.
Her skin burned with an fever, while her core felt like solid ice.
Fetching water from the frozen pump outside, Brenda began the task of brewing willow bark and feverfew.
She crushed the dried herbs with a stone pestle, the grinding sound echoing in the cabin.
Megan drifted in and out of consciousness, her mind trapped in a whirlwind of memories.
She saw Craig’s silver eyes darkening with gold, felt the phantom scrape against her throat.
The scent of pine and snow filled her senses, so real she could almost taste it.
A sob tore from her lips, her hands instinctively curling over her stomach.
Protecting the pup was the only thing that mattered now, even if it meant enduring this agony alone.
Dreams turned into dark nightmares where she wandered endlessly through castle corridors.
Shadows seemed to twist and reach for her, mocking her failure to provide a safe home for her child.
Waking with a gasp, she found Brenda wiping a cool cloth across her forehead, murmuring soft words of encouragement.
The fire had burned down to glowing embers, casting shadows across the floorboards.
By the third day of their isolation, the situation grew dire.
Megan’s cheeks had hollowed out, dark circles sinking beneath her eyes.
Refusing to eat, her stomach rejected even the weakest broths Brenda prepared.
Pacing the small floorboards, Brenda muttered healing incantations, her desperation mounting with every passing hour.
The physical toll of carrying a purebred alpha pup was immense, drawing heavily on Megan’s reserves.
Lying motionless on the cot, Megan felt her inner wolf slowly giving up the fight.
The animal lay curled in the recesses of her mind, whimpering for the mate who had rejected them.
Suddenly, a shift occurred in the atmosphere, a heavy pressure dropping over the forest.
Through the frayed edges of the mating bond, Megan felt a spike of raw emotion.
It wasn’t her own pain, but a agony echoing from miles away across the snow.
Craig was suffering too.
The realization struck her with the force of a blow, snapping her eyes open.
He was searching for her, tearing through the wilderness with the fury of a maddened beast.
Sitting upright, Megan gasped for air, her chest heaving as the bond pulsed with a undeniable intensity.
Grabbing a damp cloth, Brenda rushed to the bedside, trying gently to push her sister back down against the pillows.
Ignoring the soothing words, Megan gripped Brenda’s wrist with strength, her eyes frantic.
He was close.
Before Brenda could ask what was wrong, an howl ripped through the night air.
The sound rattled the window frames, vibrating deeply in the floorboards beneath their feet.
It was a sound of pure, dominance laced with a crippling, profound grief.
Megan’s wolf surged forward, throwing off the lethargy to answer the call of her true mate.
A heartbeat later, the heavy door of the cottage exploded inward.
Splintered wood showered across the room as the hinges gave way completely.
Filling the doorway, Craig blocked out the snowy landscape, his frame heaving with extreme exertion.
He looked like a man who had walked through hell itself, his face gaunt and shadowed by exhaustion.
Snow matted his tangled hair, melting slowly into the collar of his ruined shirt.
Locking his bloodshot eyes onto Megan, the invisible wall between them shattered.
A wave of raw emotion flooded Megan’s mind, washing away the sickness in a single heartbeat.
Dropping to his knees beside the cot, Craig choked out her name, the sound breaking into a desperate sob.
He wrapped his powerful arms around her waist, burying his face against her stomach.
Direct physical contact sent a rush of healing warmth through the broken bond, stitching the torn edges back together.
Tangling her trembling fingers in his snowy hair, Megan wept openly, tears streaming down her face.
She babbled frantic apologies, swearing she never meant to trap him, begging him to spare the child.
Pulling back quickly, Craig framed her pale face in his hands, wiping away her tears with his thumbs.
He stared at her in bewilderment, his silver eyes wide with confusion and terror.
Voice shaking with tears, he told her there was absolutely nothing to forgive.
A simple potion could never manufacture desire, he explained firmly, confessing that he had loved her since the very first day.
Fighting his own deep instincts for seven agonizing years, he had drank dangerous sleeping draughts just to survive lying next to her.
Megan’s heart pounded against her ribs, demanding desperately to know why he had put them through such loneliness.
His expression crumbling into deep grief, Craig pressed his forehead against hers.
He finally revealed the terrifying truth of his royal alpha bloodline.
Generations of northern kings had watched their mates die in childbirth.
His own mother had perished bringing him into the world, just as his grandmother had died bearing his powerful father.
The alpha heirs were strong, routinely draining the life force of mothers who possessed human-born wolves.
Terrified of losing her, Craig had actively avoided her to save her life.
The revelation settled over Megan like a heavy cloak.
He hadn’t rejected her out of disgust; he had willingly broken his own heart every day to protect her.
And now, despite all his efforts, she was pregnant with the very child he feared would kill her.
Kissing her softly, his hot tears mingling with hers, Craig promised fervently that they would fight the curse together.
He swore to bring every healer and every witch in the kingdom to keep her safe.
Resting her tired head against his racing heart, Megan stared quietly into the flickering orange flames of the hearth.
The overwhelming power of his love pulsed strongly through the bond, offering a profound comfort.
Yet beneath the joy of their reunion, the lingering shadow of his terror remained palpable.
The battle was far from over.
They had to return to the castle, face the council, and find a way to survive the pregnancy.
The silence between them in the cottage was heavy, filled with the weight of unsaid apologies.
Craig pulled up a small wooden stool, sitting awkwardly beside the cot.
He reached out, his fingers tracing the faint lines of exhaustion framing her face.
He explained how the potion had merely broken the dam he had spent years reinforcing.
Every council meeting, every formal dinner, he had been fighting the urge to pull her onto his lap and claim her for all the court to see.
He described the sheer torture of hearing her heartbeat from across the castle, knowing he could never answer its call.
Megan listened, her own heart swelling with a mixture of sorrow and profound understanding.
She asked him why he hadn’t trusted her with the truth from the beginning.
If she had known the risks, she argued, she would have accepted a childless life by his side.
Craig shook his head, his eyes reflecting the depth of his regret.
He admitted he was too much of a coward to see the disappointment in her eyes, fearing she would leave him if he denied her a family outright.
The journey back to the castle was a test of endurance.
Wrapped in Craig’s furs, Megan rode nestled tightly against his broad chest, his arms forming a protective cage around her.
He absolutely refused to let her ride alone, his wolf demanding constant physical contact to maintain her health.
Guiding their horses through the deep snowdrifts, Brenda rode ahead, scouting the safest paths down the mountain pass.
The bitter wind howled through the branches, biting at their exposed skin, but the heat radiating from Craig kept Megan comfortably warm.
During the long hours in the saddle, they spoke in hushed tones, slowly dismantling the walls built over seven years.
Craig confessed the torment of watching her walk past the empty nursery, knowing he was the sole architect of her pain.
He detailed the nights he had paced his study, fighting the primal urge to claim her properly and make her his.
Listening quietly, Megan absorbed the magnitude of his sacrifice, her resentment melting into profound love.
She shared her own despairs, the humiliation of the court whispers, the weight of believing herself unlovable.
With every truth spoken, the mating bond strengthened significantly, glowing brighter and more resilient in her mind.
They discussed the future, acknowledging the risks while desperately clinging to the hope of survival.
By the time the stone walls of the castle came into view, they were no longer strangers trapped in a political arrangement.
The journey back was grueling, but it provided them time to truly speak as mates.
When they stopped to rest near a frozen stream, Craig personally tended to the horses, allowing Brenda to rest.
He brought Megan a cup of warmed water, his touch lingering on her hand.
They discussed the immediate future, acknowledging the political fallout waiting for them at the castle.
The council would undoubtedly question his sudden departure and the state of the queen’s health.
Craig promised he would silence any lord who dared to speak against her.
He swore that if the council demanded an explanation for the forbidden ritual, he would shoulder the blame entirely.
Megan squeezed his hand, assuring him that she would stand by his side, no longer the silent, ghost-like queen of the past seven years.
She felt a new strength blooming within her, fueled by the certainty of his devotion.
They were true mates, united fiercely against a biological threat.
Riding through the gates, the courtyard erupted into controlled chaos.
Stable hands rushed forward to take the horses, while guards scrambled to clear a path for the returning king.
Whispers broke out among the gathered servants, their eyes wide as they saw the king carrying his runaway queen.
Carrying Megan effortlessly in his arms, Craig strode directly into the grand hall, ignoring the gasps of the assembled courtiers.
He bypassed the royal chambers entirely, heading straight for the healing wards beneath the castle.
Lit by torches, the room smelled of sage and old magic.
The head healer, a elder wolf named the healer, hurried forward, directing them to a bed in the center of the ward.
Setting her down gently, Craig refused to step back, keeping one hand locked around her wrist.
the healer immediately began his examination, his hands glowing with restorative magic as he hovered them over her stomach.
The atmosphere in the room grew tense as the minutes dragged on.
Finally stepping back, the healer delivered his assessment with a troubled sigh.
The pup was indeed a pure alpha, its energetic signature already drawing vitality from Megan’s core.
Without immediate and intervention, her human-born wolf would simply not survive the gestation, let alone the trauma of birth.
Refusing to accept defeat, Craig demanded solutions, his voice vibrating with a commanding edge.
the healer exchanged a worried glance with Brenda, who had quietly slipped into the ward behind them.
There was an ancient, forbidden ritual, the healer explained slowly, one not actively practiced in over two centuries.
It required the alpha mate to actively tether his own life force to the mother’s, acting as a conduit to feed the growing pup.
The risks were grave; if the strain proved too much, both parents could perish together, leaving the kingdom without a ruler.
Without a second of hesitation, Craig agreed instantly to the procedure.
He declared that he would rather burn the kingdom to the ground than lose his mate.
Preparations for the ritual consumed the next three days.
The castle went into lockdown, the council lords barred from entering the lower levels while the healers worked tirelessly.
Runes of binding and magical transference were painstakingly painted onto the stone floor using a mixture of lapis and ash.
Lying in the center of the magical array, Megan watched her husband strip away his tunic, his chest illuminated by candles.
Fear gnawed at her mind, terrified that her desperate desire for a child would ultimately cost him his life.
Sitting cross-legged directly beside her, Craig took her hands, his grip warm and steady.
He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, murmuring that she was the only kingdom he truly cared about.
Standing at the head of the bed, the healer began chanting in the old tongue, his voice a drone that echoed off the walls.
The painted runes flared suddenly, burning with a silver light that illuminated the ward.
The light from the runes pulsed in time with their heartbeats.
Every time Craig inhaled, the array flared brighter, pushing a wave of energy straight into Megan’s core.
She felt the sensation of roots digging into her soul, anchoring her physical form against the drain of the alpha pup.
the healer’s chanting grew louder, shifting from a rhythmic drone into a forceful command.
The air in the ward crackled with ozone, making the hairs on Megan’s arms stand up.
Sweat poured down Craig’s scarred chest, pooling at the waistband of his trousers as he fought to maintain his focus.
He refused to break eye contact, his silver gaze offering a vow of protection.
Megan gasped sharply as a searing heat entered her chest, tracing the exact path of their mating bond.
It felt as if a physical, glowing iron chain was being forged between their beating hearts, pulling tight with a terrifying jolt.
Across from her, Craig’s jaw clenched, a sheen of sweat breaking out across his forehead.
He absorbed the shock of the magical tether without a single complaint, his silver eyes locked on hers.
Slowly, miraculously, the fatigue that had plagued Megan since conception began to lift entirely.
The parasitic drain of the alpha pup shifted drastically, siphoning strength from Craig’s vast reserves.
Color returned to her cheeks, her breathing evening out as a vitality flooded her veins.
The ritual concluded with a final, flash of light, plunging the ward back into the glow of the torches.
Slumping forward, Craig caught himself on his elbows, panting, his muscles trembling with exertion.
Megan reached out, tracing the drawn lines of his face, tears of gratitude spilling down her cheeks.
The tether was established, the burden finally shared equally between them.
The ensuing months passed in a tense blur of cautious optimism and strict medical supervision.
Confined mostly to the royal chambers, Megan watched her belly swell with the evidence of their success.
Despite the drain on his energy, Craig refused to leave her side, managing the affairs of the kingdom from a desk near her bed.
He looked paler and leaner, the toll of feeding the pup evident in the sharp angles of his face.
Yet he had never looked happier in his life.
The days following the tethering ritual tested their resolve in entirely new ways.
Craig’s physical decline was slow but undeniable, his once-imposing frame losing its hard edge.
He spent his mornings holding council meetings from his bedside chair, his voice lower and tighter than usual.
When a visiting dignitary expressed concern over the king’s apparent illness, Craig simply smiled.
He stated that a king’s greatest duty was to his family, a sentiment that sent ripples of shock through the previously cynical court.
Megan took over many of his lighter duties, reviewing trade reports and managing the castle staff while sitting propped up in bed.
She found herself enjoying the work, drawing confidence from the steady pulse of his magic sustaining her.
He spent hours reading to her, pressing his ear against her stomach to listen to the heartbeat of their unborn child.
They spent the quiet evenings mapping out a bright future they had once believed impossible.
The court nobility, previously eager to whisper insults, now watched the king’s unyielding devotion with respectful, awed silence.
Even Tyler, the ambassador, had sent a letter of apology before returning to his territory.
When the time for delivery finally arrived on a autumn night, the castle held its breath.
The birthing chamber was stiflingly hot, packed tightly with nervous midwives and skilled healers working in frantic coordination.
Outside the thick stone walls, a thunderstorm raged, mimicking the struggle within the birthing chamber.
Lightning flashed through the narrow windows, casting shadows across the faces of the medical staff.
The midwives moved with practiced precision, shouting orders over the thunder.
Every muscle in Megan’s body burned with an fire, feeling as if her bones were being crushed.
She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting past the exhaustion, drawing heavily on the magical tether connecting her to Craig.
The tether hummed fiercely, a lifeline of alpha vitality holding her human-born wolf together.
Craig’s face was a mask of concentration, his lips moving in silent prayers to the ancient shifter gods.
Gripping Craig’s large hands tightly, Megan rode out the waves of contraction, her screams echoing off the stone walls.
Kneeling beside her, Craig fed his remaining strength through the magical tether, pushing his own body to the brink of total collapse.
His alpha aura flared wildly, filling the room with the scent of pine and ozone.
Just as the pain threatened to drag her into the darkness, a sharp cry shattered the tension in the room.
The sound was loud, a demanding, furious wail that proudly announced the safe arrival of a healthy, robust alpha heir.
A stunned silence swept over the midwives as they quickly cleaned the newborn, wrapping him in a soft linen blanket.
Gently placing the infant onto Megan’s chest, Brenda wept openly, her shoulders shaking with relief.
Looking down at the tiny face, Megan felt a surge of love so powerful it rivaled the mating bond itself.
The baby had Craig’s dark hair and strong jawline, a blend of their two bloodlines.
Leaning against the pillows, Craig stared at his son, tears carving tracks through the sweat on his face.
He reached out with a trembling, tentative finger, gently stroking the baby’s soft cheek.
The infant immediately quieted, turning its small head instinctively toward the familiar scent of its father.
A full year later, the royal nursery was no longer a silent monument to failure.
Sunlight streamed through the tall, stained-glass windows, illuminating the colorful wooden toys scattered across the thick carpets.
Sitting comfortably in a padded rocking chair, Megan watched her son, the young prince, practicing his unsteady first steps across the floor.
He giggled, tumbling forward happily into the waiting arms of his father.
Catching the boy effortlessly, Craig tossed him high into the air, drawing a delighted squeal from the young prince.
The king looked restored, the toll of the tethering ritual faded from his features.
He set the boy down, turning his warm eyes toward his wife.
Crossing the room in strides, he pulled Megan from the chair, wrapping his arms securely around her waist.
He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, the mating bond humming with peace.
They had defied curses, survived political manipulation, and conquered their own fears to build this life.
Resting her head against his chest, Megan listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
The kingdom finally had its heir, and the once-barren queen had finally found her family.
THE END
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Disclaimer
This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. If you would like to share your story, please send it to [email protected].
