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Chapter 23 – The Alpha’s Pen Pal Novel Free Online by Allie Carstens

Posted on June 8, 2025 by thisisterrisun

Filed to story: The Alpha’s Pen Pal Book

“I hate you,” I spat.

“I know,” he said.

“I hate you! I hate that you failed her.” I gasped as my body twitched and stiffened even more, my bones cracking and reassembling under my skin. “I hate that I failed her,” I croaked out.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his hands gripping my shoulders.

“You wouldn’t have to be sorry if you’d done what you promised!” I yelled.

My spine gave out a resounding crack, and I threw my head back, letting out a pained cry, although it sounded more like a howl.

I groaned and clawed at the ground, barely noticing my elongated nails. Everything was brighter and stronger smelling. My heart raced, and my nose sniffed at the air as one last painful crack shook my whole body, sending a fire over every single nerve ending in me.

And then everything was quiet and loud at the same time. I could hear not only my heartbeat but my dad’s, my mom’s, and everyone else who was staring at me with wide eyes.

I stood up to my full height again, noticing my shredded clothes on the ground. My eyes moved to my hands, now dark gray and covered in fur, with long digits and long, sharp nails.

I heard my dad shift beside me, and his black lycan looked mine in the eye. I blinked at him and then heard his voice come through my head.

“Run with me,

” he said, his first words ever to me through our pack mindlink. “Run off your pain.”

He took off towards the tree line, and my lycan followed after him, letting out a howl towards the sky as he did.

We ran through the trees for most of the day, and even when the sun went down, I stayed in the forest by myself, still in my newly shifted lycan form. I lost track of time while I was running. With the way I was feeling, it seemed as if I would need a lifetime to run off the pain.

11.5 YEARS LATER

HAVEN

“Let’s run through that last section one last time, Haven,” Peter called to me from the middle of the darkened theater. “I really want you to imagine you’re floating on those sissones. Remember, you’re a fairy.”

I nodded to him as I turned away from the theater seats and grabbed my towel from the stage floor to dab at the sweat on my face.

Rehearsal had been grueling. Peter was picking apart every step and transition of my interpretation of the Lilac Fairy.

Not that I minded. He was a genius when it came down to the nitty-gritty details of nailing Nureyev’s choreography. Even in the short months I had been with this new company, I had already seen an improvement in my technique and performance quality.

But damn, were my feet feeling it. I would need an extra long Epsom salt soak over the weekend. Thankfully, it was my last rehearsal for the week, aside from the optional barre class on Saturday morning. Well, optional for everyone except me. And only not optional for me because I never let myself miss an optional class.

I moved back to upstage left and readied myself, then nodded at our pianist. Another perk of this new, smaller company—a pianist even at my solo rehearsals.

The music swelled, and I took a deep breath through my nose before beginning the sequence of steps that created the last phrase of the piece.

Sissone, sissone, passé relevé, double pirouette.

I focused on Peter’s notes, working to keep my arms light and breezy as I did the sequence again, imagining I had lilac wings coming from my back.

I repeated the sequence for the third pass and snuck a peek at my director in the house to gauge his reaction.

His approval was easier to guess than Miss Rebekah’s had been when I was at her studio, although still difficult. But his lip tugged up and I saw him nod his head as I executed my two front attitudes into the assemblé

turn. I grinned in triumph as I came down to my knee out of the final double pirouette of the piece.

The theater was silent as I stayed in my final pose for a beat, imagining the house filling with applause. I rose from my kneeling position and executed my curtsy, then glanced at Peter.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” he said.

I smiled again and walked to my bag and my water bottle. That was basically him saying, “Good job.”

“You mean tomorrow?” I called to him as I plopped to the floor to unlace my pointe shoes.

“Miss Wainwright, how many times have I had to tell you? You should take at least one Saturday morning off every once in a while. You’re going to overwork yourself if you don’t.”

I bristled at the use of my surname, but said nothing. They were billing me as Kenway in the programs, so I needed to let it go when someone used my adopted last name.

I just shook my head at him and slipped my shoes into my bag, taking a sip of water before saying, “See you in the morning, Peter!”

I pranced down the stage door stairs and outside, the brisk early autumn air chilling my sticky, sweaty, and slightly heated skin.

I enjoyed it, though, since soon enough, it would be much colder in the evenings. Although, I doubted it would be as cold here as it had been when I lived in Denver and Salt Lake City. My roommate, Maya, said it got chilly in the winter, but I would be the judge of what these Californians considered “chilly.”

My walk to our apartment was peaceful. I enjoyed the rays of the sun as it journeyed out of sight behind the rise of the surrounding mountains. It was still an hour or so before sunset, but the sky in the east already twinkled with a few stars. The time just before sunset was my second favorite time of day, and I closed my eyes and breathed in for a moment before heading inside our building.

“Maya! I’m home!” I called out, mimicking Ricky Ricardo as I walked through the front door.

“Oooh, just in time too!” Maya squealed as she rounded the corner to the entryway.

Her dark, coiled hair bounced as she bounded up to me, a smile lighting up her brown eyes.

I tried not to cringe at her enthusiasm. “Just in time for what?” I managed to squeak out.

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