Filed to story: The Alpha’s Pen Pal Book
“That would be nice,” I agree. “People need some hope, something to look forward to.”
“They do. And Christmas is a great way to do it. I’ve always loved Christmas.”
“Me too. It was my mom’s favorite holiday, and spending that time yesterday with Reid, decorating the tree with him… it brought back a lot of memories.” My throat tightens and I swallow, blinking against the burning in my eyes. I scratch at my nose, hiding my quivering lip from Haven. “I wish she was here still. I wish she could guide me through all this. When I pictured my life with a mate and a family, she was always part of that picture. Her and my dad.”
Haven moves closer to me and wraps her arm around my upper body, and I lean my head on her shoulder, a tear falling and sinking into the sleeve of her leotard.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “But I hope you realize your baby will have so much love. We’re all here to support you and care for both of you. You won’t be doing this alone.”
I nod against her shoulder and pinch my lips together, holding in my cries. “Thank you. I don’t know where I would be without you and Alpha Wesley. You’ve both already done so much for me.”
“You’re part of our family,” she says, smiling. “And wolves protect their family.”
REIDKarma is a
funny thing. Sometimes it works in our favor, and other times, it works against us.
This morning it is not working in my favor. The bed is empty. Taryn is nowhere in sight, and I know this is payback for me leaving the bed before she woke up yesterday morning.
“I knew I should have stayed in bed with her instead of making breakfast,” I grumble, rubbing my eyes with my palms.
I sit and swing my legs over the edge of the mattress, stretching my neck as I do, and I spy a bright yellow sticky note on the lamp. I snatch it, and my eyes zip over each letter of her handwriting, my wolf pushing forward as her scent floats from the paper and into my nose.
I’m going to the gym in the basement. I will be back soon.
Love,
Cadet Taryn
Love. She wrote “Love.” Does she mean that? Or is it similar to how girls say “Love ya!” to each other when saying goodbye?
Or am I overthinking the whole thing?
I stand from the bed and stretch my arms above my head, the note clutched in my hand. I’ll get dressed and join her in the gym. We can race each other on the treadmills and maybe get some sparring in—sparring which will double as foreplay—before we come back here and wrestle naked.
Perfect. Just like her tight, exquisite body.
I groan and adjust my morning wood in my underwear as images of her “finishing me later” flash through my mind—her plump lips wrapped around my cock, her gorgeous tits hanging down and brushing my thighs as she took me further into her mouth with each pass, her hand between her thighs as she played with herself while pleasuring me.
Yeah. I definitely want a repeat of that today. I see why the Goddess paired us together. She’s the female version of me—always horny and ready to go. I’ve never met a female like her—a female who matches me in every way. And I will never meet another like her because she’s the one made to be my perfect match. My other half. My girl. My mate.
Mine.
I grab the last clean set of clothing I borrowed from the spares in the guest housing area and throw them on before brushing my teeth, rushing through the motions so I can get down to the basement and join my girl.
But when I reach the living area, I halt in my tracks. My girl is there, sitting on the rock couch, staring out the window behind it with her chin in her hand and my black blanket wrapped around her. Her emotions hit me like a tidal wave, heavy and suffocating, a mix of so many it is difficult to pinpoint each one.
“I thought you went to the gym?” I ask, holding up the yellow sticky note.
“I was going to, but then realized I didn’t feel like doing a workout. I did some stretching with Haven instead,” she says, glancing at me for a moment.
My heart clenches at the red-rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks, and I swallow, dropping the note and moving to sit with her. “Hey,” I soothe, taking her face in my hands and pulling her close to me. “Talk to me.”
She leans forward so her forehead hits my chest. “Does it ever get any easier?” she asks into my shirt.
“Does what ever get any easier?”
“Losing your parents.”
I suck in a breath, and my throat tightens. “Do you want me to sugarcoat it, or do you want me to be honest?”
“Be honest. Please.”
I pull her into my lap and rest my chin on her head, holding her with all my might. “It gets different. Sometimes I forget the exact shade of blue her eyes were or the exact pitch of her voice. Sometimes I don’t know if what I remember—the little moments, the songs she would sing, the hugs—are real memories, or things people have told me about, or things I wish had happened. There are times I go days without thinking about her, and I feel guilty when I realize that. But the grief never goes away. It’s always there, just beneath the surface, lurking and waiting to surprise you when you least expect it.”
My head leans back against the couch, and I scrub a hand over my face, closing my eyes.
She nods and sniffles, wiping her eye with her sleeve. “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry if that’s not what you wanted to hear,” I say.
“No, it’s what I needed to hear. I needed to know I’m not the only one who feels this way.”
“You’re not. And you don’t have to deal with it alone. Not anymore. Not with me by your side.”
She lifts her head from my chest, and I look down at her. Her nose nuzzles against mine, sliding along the side of it, her eyes closing as our breath mixes. Our lips meet, her arm winding around my neck and clinging to me. The hint of salt on her mouth teases my tongue, and my wolf whines in my mind, provoking me, blaming me for her tears even though all I did was talk to her, even though the tears were there before I came into the living room.
“I think it’s all this holiday and Christmas stuff that reminded me of them,” she says, pulling away, answering my unspoken question. “I love it,” she adds, putting her hand over my heart. “I love that you did all this for me. My mom loved Christmas, and we always did stuff like this together and…” She takes in a deep breath and clears her throat, her head shaking.
“It’s summertime for me,” I say, rubbing my hand up and down her side. “Picnics, swimming in the lake, fresh fruit and fruit pies… it all makes me think of her.”
“I wish I could meet her,” she says.
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?