Page 12 of The Alpha's Protective Mate

I’ve been having these dreams for so long that I’ve lost track. The cold water does nothing to settle me.

It’s always the same type of dream: a man with a face I can’t see clearly, holding my hand, walking through a forest, my heart brimming with love and confidence. I can’t call these dreams nightmares. It’s more that they show me a kind of love I will never have in this life.

And it breaks my heart.

I often wake up, my eyes wet, my heart aching so desperately for something I crave with my whole being but cannot have.

I bring my glass out into the living room and sit down heavily on the couch. It’s still dark out, and even though I’m tired, I don’t want to sleep. I know I’ll have that same dream.

I hate it.

Slumping back on the cushions, I put my feet up on the coffee table and stare at the ceiling. The room is dark, but it doesn’t bother me. The darkness is soothing.

I always knew love would never be in my cards.

Can’t be with a vampire because I’m too weak. Vampires are an ambitious sort. They like power and strength.

Wolves are absolutely not even an option. That’s not something that can happen. Wolves have their mates, and they despise vampires. The events from last night are a good example. Harry, Robert’s friend, went after me simply because I was a vampire. And besides, wolves and vampires don’t mix. Never have. I guess it’s taboo.

I sigh wearily.

I’ve tried dating humans, but I’ve never managed to hold on to any relationship, long-term, due to the fear of giving away what I am. The rules of revealing the world of Others to humans are very strict. Breaking them can result in immediate execution. I know there must be plenty of humans aware of our existence, but I’ve never met any. And I can’t risk getting found out.

That’s why these dreams haunt me. It’s like I’m constantly being taunted by what I can never have, constantly being shown what it feels like to be cherished only to wake up and realize none of it is true.

In the silence of my home, I let my tears fall.

Loneliness is a hard, bitter existence.

I try to keep my days full. I have set goals in my life. I have savings. I have Mano, my one-eyed cat. But none of it fills the gaping hole inside me.

I just want to be loved. I just want to be wanted.

There are times I wonder whether I would have felt differently if my own family had not rejected me so harshly. But the game of “what if” is a dangerous one, and I try not to focus on it.

A grumpy meow reaches my ears just as a soft body jumps onto my shoulder before dropping into my lap.

Mano is a six-year-old tabby that I rescued as a kitten. She stretches on my thighs before collapsing and purring heavily.

I run my fingers through her fur, smiling slightly now. “I’m not feeding you again. You’re growing chubby.”

She gives me a pitiful look before purring even louder.

I can feel my fingers itching to give her some wet food, but Ricky gave me strict instructions at her last checkup.

“Sorry, sweetie,” I say, petting her. “You need to lose a few pounds.”

Her purring stops, and she gives me a betrayed look.

“Come on, now.” I kiss the top of her head. “We’ll start going on walks. I’ll even cook you some low-fat treats. How about mincemeat?”

Mano turns her head away from me, clearly sulking.

“Don’t be a baby,” I chuckle. “Let’s just try to sleep.”

I curl up on the couch, Mano under my arm, and close my eyes. Sleep does come, but my brain is a flurry of activity, and when I wake up in a couple of hours, I’m more tired than before.

Mano is sprawled over my stomach, snoring, as I stretch.

---