Filed to story: The Alpha’s Pen Pal Book
“I took my shirt off because I got warm. No one else saw me like this,” she said, reaching up and patting my cheek. “But you’re cute when you get all jealous.”
“I’m not cute.” I frowned.
“Okay, Pal. If you say so.,” She smirked.
I gripped her waist and spun her around to face me, pulling her hips flush against mine. “I’m a lycan, Haven. Lycans are strong and fierce. Not ‘cute.'”
“I don’t know,” she mused, her hands playing with my hair. My eyes closed at her touches, her fingers gentle and soothing against my scalp. “Now that I’ve had time to think about it, you were pretty cute when you were a lycan.”
I tried to growl at her, but the image in my mind of my lycan sitting up straighter at her compliment had me laughing instead.
My fingers dug into her hips as I lowered my mouth to hers for a kiss. But she leaned away from me, catching me by surprise and slipping out of my arms with a fancy little twirl.
“I need to practice a bit more,” she said at my scowl. “Then we can shower and canoodle all you want,” she added as she blew me a kiss.
“Fine,” I agreed. “But only because I enjoy watching you dance.” I winked.
She moved back to the center of the room and started practicing again, and I stood back to watch her. Her legs stretched and tightened as she pointed her feet and stepped up onto her toes, and her arms floated in the air as she danced.
She may have been small—or at least smaller than most she-wolves—but her stage presence and the way she moved her body made up for her stature. A focused yet serene expression graced her face, and anyone who watched her could see how much she loved what she did. She was breathtaking to watch.
I walked around the room, one eye still watching her and the other looking at the pictures I’d hung up in her space. I paused in front of one—an image of her dancing with Ramón in a rehearsal—and I got an idea.
“Haven,” I said, turning to her again.
“Hmm?” she hummed, not breaking her concentration or her rhythm.
“Can I help you practice?”
Her steps faltered at that, her arms dropping and her brows furrowing as she turned to glance at me. “How are you going to help me?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips.
“Well,” I began, glancing back at the photo. “You could teach me some lifts?” I supplied lamely, jerking my thumb over my shoulder at the photo.
Her lips twitched, and she crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one leg. “You want to do ballet lifts with me?”
I nodded. It was a lame excuse, but it would get me close to her, let me get my hands on her, and she could also still practice. It would be the best of both.
“All right,” she said after a moment. “But it’s not as easy as it looks,” she warned.
“Haven. I’m a lycan.”
“Last I checked, lycan and ballet dancer were not the same thing,” she said, shaking her head. “Well, get over here,” she laughed, waving me towards her.
Even after all the laps I had run that day, I sprinted the three steps to her, moving right into her space. I wanted to put my arms around her and just throw her over my shoulder and take her to the bedroom, but I clenched my fists and took a deep breath to focus on my ballet lesson.
“Okay, so, first, I’m going to teach you the fish lift,” she said.
“Fish?”
“Yes, that’s just what it’s called. Don’t ask me why.” She shrugged. “So you’ll lift me from here”—she patted her right thigh—“and here,” she said, pointing to her abdomen. “My left leg will bend into a passé sort of, and you’ll lunge and dip me.”
“Sure. Sounds simple enough,” I muttered, and she smirked.
“No, from under my leg.” She giggled as I put my hand on her thigh.
“Like this?” I asked, adjusting my grip, and she nodded.
I wrapped my arm around her waist, and lifted her, and her left leg bent just as she said it would. I stood there awkwardly, just holding her, forgetting what else she’d instructed me to do.
Her head turned to look at me, and she whispered, “Lunge!”
“Oh, right,” I stammered, and I lunged with my left leg bent.
“No, no, the other leg!” She laughed.
“Oops,” I said, quickly switching my weight to my other leg.
She looked at us in the mirror and laughed even harder. “Oh god, Wes, you look like a bear.”
“I’m a wolf shifter. We live in packs. Bear shifters are solitary.”
Her mouth opened and closed. “We’ll circle back to that later. When we discuss vampires.”
“Okay,” I nodded. “What do we do from here?”
“Well, you stand back up, and I extend my leg out, and you set me down in an arabesque.”
“Um…”
“Just stand up straight,” she said, shaking her head. “This is so not helping,” she added under her breath.
“But it’s fun,” I retorted as I stood straight, and she extended her leg.
New Book: Veiled Desires of the Alpha King Novel
Dayson was the alpha of the largest pack in North America. Powerful figures from other packs sought to offer gorgeous girls as potential mates for Dayson. He steadfastly rejected these advances, he was not a pawn to be manipulated. But eventually there came a mysterious girl he could hardly say No. Who was she?