Filed to story: The Alpha’s Pen Pal Book
She smiles and giggles, then gathers her things from the floor of my car. “I guess I should get going.”
I nod and purse my lips. Otherwise, my wolf might push me to ask her to stay. For forever.
“Thanks for the lunch. And the cookies,” she says, lifting the box I bought for her before we left since she loved the salted caramel ones so much. “I’ll see you Thursday?” she asks, even though we have already established we are for sure meeting again on Thursday.
I nod. “Yep. Thursday.”
She unbuckles and leans across the center console and plants a kiss on my cheek. “Thanks again!” she says, opening her door.
I am frozen in place. The press of her lips against my cheek leaves a searing heat behind, and my wolf whimpers in my head, begging for more of her touch, begging to feel her lips against my lips instead of against my cheek. I inhale—a fast, sharp noise—and she freezes, too.
Her head whips around to stare at me, her eyes wide. “Fuck, I’m sorry! I didn’t—I wasn’t… That doesn’t count, right? As breaking rule number one? Since we’re not fucking? And it wasn’t on the lips?”
“Nope,” I say, shaking my head, my throat tight. My hands shake, and I flex them against the steering wheel, hoping to hide the trembling. “One hundred percent doesn’t count. Only counts with females I fuck.”
I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince her, myself, or my wolf. I’m not sure I’m convincing anyone at all.
She gives me a smile and opens the door. “Bye, Reid!”
I lift my hand in a wave, and she shuts the door and hops into her own vehicle. I stay in the Mustang, not moving my head but watching her with my eyes as she drives away, watching until I can no longer see her blue Subaru in the distance.
She’s gone. She’s gone, and I am already counting down the seconds until she is back.
What is wrong with me?
“Goddess fucking damn it!” I yell, slamming my fist against the steering wheel.
This is all a big, jumbled, tangled up mess. I am no closer to figuring out why she doesn’t feel the bond than I was three days ago. All I have done by being close to her for the better part of the day is get my wolf’s hopes up.
But I can not back out on her. I made her a promise. I promised I would be there for her, promised I would help her out so she can earn her rightful position as a warrior.
And I know she will. It is just going to cost me my sanity.
I jump out of the car and head towards the tree line. I have taken a run in wolf form twice already today, but it seems a third run is in order. It is the easiest way for me to clear my head. Well, other than sleeping, which has not been easy to do since meeting Taryn.
My library search, while fruitful for training methods and that sweet little clause I found in the warrior laws, yielded no results for why she may not feel the bond. Everything I found on the mate bond was stuff I already knew: mates both have to be twenty-one for the bond to fall into place, a rejection must happen under the full moon, and wolves must mark their non-werewolf mates under the same phase of moon present when they were born. But nothing about why one mate might feel the bond and not the other.
It also provided me with an unneeded reminder of why my wolf has been more active and present in my mind—because I’ve met my mate. Unlike lycans, who have more of a “personality,” if you will, werewolves are more of an instinctual presence in the back of our minds.
That is until we meet our mates. Once we meet our mates, our wolves become more active and present, pushing us to be near our mates, to keep them close. Their primary instinct is to protect and mark, and if the human’s actions are not in line with those instincts, the wolf becomes restless.
Which is what’s happening to me.
And the information I found about smaller than normal wolves was not helpful either. It is usually something that runs in families, but it can also result from a genetic mutation. Either way, it is rare, but apart from being small, it does not affect the werewolf in any other way.
I need to get out of my head. I need to run, need to focus on anything other than Taryn and Taryn’s scent and Taryn being my mate. I need to exhaust myself and my wolf so I can get an actual full night of sleep, the way I used to before I met Taryn. My mate.
I have the hem of my shirt in my hands and I’m about to tear it over my head when a mindlink from Wesley comes through.
“Where are you? You’re going to be late.”
“Late?”
“For the final tuxedo fitting?”
“Goddess damn it!” I say again, changing my direction and heading towards the packhouse.
I guess my run will have to wait until later.
“What room are you in?”
I ask him.
“Conference room.”
I continue to mutter curses under my breath as I move through the packhouse. Pack members’ eyes widen as I pass them, and they all give me a wide berth. I must be giving off some of my beta aura, which I usually keep under wraps unless it’s during training or an actual fight. Which we don’t have often.
I stop in front of the conference door and take several deep breaths. I can not go in there all riled up and leaking my aura. I will get my friends riled up, too, and I do not need that. Especially not with two of them being lycans.
The breathing also helps because there is the lingering scent of peonies, strawberries, and peaches on my skin or maybe my shirt. Or both. The scent of my mate. It is intoxicating. Soothing. It is the best thing I have ever smelled—even better than fresh-baked cookies.
Once I am calm—myself and my wolf—I open the conference room door and step inside.
All the ranked male wolves and almost all the former ranked male wolves are inside, in various stages of changing into their tuxes. Alpha Harrison is gone on his trip with Luna Emily, and Delta Sullivan and his mate, Christopher, moved to Hawaii to work for the royal guard after Sebastian took over as the delta two and a half years ago.
My dad and Felix Shepard, the former gamma, look at me as I enter. I brace myself, hand gripping the doorknob.
I never know which version of my dad I am going to get. Will I get the loving father, the one who taught me to surf, fix cars, play football, and fight? Or will I get the grief-stricken male, the one who missed more important events than I can count, the one who drowns his sorrows in liquor and can not distinguish the past from the present? Is he having a good day or a bad day?
My palms sweat, my stomach clenches, and I swallow against the pain in my throat as I pray to Selene and wait for him to greet me.
“Hey there, Buddy!” my dad exclaims, walking towards me with a broad smile, his blue eyes twinkling.
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?