Page 3 of Freeing My Alpha

“It’s all so exciting, isn’t it, Sarah?” I giggle along with her, rubbing her little back in my palm. My heart races as she gazes into my eyes in pure trust, releasing another wave of flowery, happy baby scent.

We catch up to Rainn, stilling ourselves with the hush of the surrounding pups. They’re focused on Rainn’s point.

“Can someone tell me what this is?”

“A footprint!” A little voice shouts from the bushes behind Rainn.

She smiles. “Yes! What type of footprint?”

“Deer,” says a chorus of high voices.

“Excellent! Can any of my littles tell me what else they notice? How long ago did our deer visit this part of the forest, and where did they go?”

A few pups around six– to seven-years-old jump eagerly with their hands up, and Rainn laughs. “I know you know, my big loves. Let the little ones respond first.”

The little ones are extra little today, the closest toddler seemingly just reaching three. She gapes in frozen silence, only glancing between Rainn and me with her eyes.

“Tell me what your nose notices.” As Rainn taps her nose’s tip, her lowered voice hushes the group. Our collective silence draws out the sound of the gentle air current, wind billowing our clothes and rustling the leafy overgrowth.

Little pups stoop to sniff the deer hoof impression in the fresh mud. Each time another pup rushes over, they smash their own prints in the mud, collectively smearing each other’s backs as they topple over one another. Some return to the bushes and trees, attempting to peek over the tops of everyone’s heads.

One tiny pup in particular wobbles, popping upright too quickly. I catch her just in time, but Rainn grants her a beaming smile, widening the little one’s eyes. The toddler sucks her thumb, using her free hand to point behind the group.

Rainn claps rapidly, letting out a sharp giggle. “Yes! Oh, Goddess, yes! You are so good at this, Chels! That’s exactly where the deer went!”

The little one breaks into a breathy smile, proudness emanating from her form as she claps for herself. It tears my heart from my chest with overwhelming affection, begging me to squeeze her little cheeks.

But as the rest of the pups chime in, discovering together how many hours ago the deer passed through these trees, I slump into myself.

These tiny Lycan children can track scents effortlessly. I don’t know how to pick out a scent, let alone decipher what portion of the scent would tell me its age.

I gasp, startled from my thoughts by Sarah’s sudden mouthing of my chest. She wriggles in my arms, her breath speeding into an anxious pant when she realizes I’m not rushing to breastfeed her.

“O-oh, uh—” My cheeks burn hot as Rainn meets my eyes.

“Oops, someone’s hungry!” Rainn opens her arms for Sarah, but not after whipping a breast from her tank top.

My jaw drops, feeling like I’ve been dropped off in another country for the day—not because she’s breastfeeding, but because she’s a teacher feeding a stranger’s child from her body.

But the pups continue to discuss the deer tracks, and Sarah latches on, everyone behaving as if this is normal. Sarah suckles away as Rainn holds her one-armed, squatting back down with the rest of the class, but I’m left standing with my head still spinning.

Rainn does a double take, breaking into a giggle. Oh, yeah. I forgot to mention I gave birth to Sarah about six months ago. All I can do is gape. Rainn adjusts Sarah, stroking her head as Sarah gulps ravenous mouthfuls of milk. Between us, I’m happy to be a teacher-mom for thousands of kids and carry pups for those who can’t. Rainn winks. Plus, this way I can get a full night’s sleep.

My brain catches up with what Rainn just disclosed, connecting Sarah’s doe-brown eyes to Rainn’s gorgeous features.

Rainn, I had no idea you were a surrogate!

With a happy nod, Rainn kisses Sarah’s head. And I’m slowly getting myself ready to carry another pup for a new family, hopefully by next year. That little one—climbing the tree with those cute little pin curls—he was the first pup I carried.

My heartstrings strum as I follow Rainn’s nod, finding a toddler with a bright, gummy smile holding hands with who must be his best friend. They rescue a fat worm together, depositing it into the bushes before it can be stepped on. It reminds me of Amy and me; Amy always admired how I could notice all the little details in the world, long before we knew why my brain works like it does. But Noah’s little sister was the one who granted this boy life. The more I look at his sharp features, softened only by round cheeks and an elated smile, the more he looks like a tiny, cheerful Noah.

I’m torn. On one hand, I’m staring into a possible future I’ve always wanted. On the other, I know in my heart that Noah didn’t have the freedom this little one does. I felt it the second we bonded: something dark and brooding, poisoning the depths of Noah’s emotions.

But today’s pups of Greenfield seem different. Rainn not only created this safety for her students, but also brought two of them to life. I look back at her with newfound wonder. The sun’s glow ignites Rainn’s profile as it peeks through the forest canopy, giving her an added air of royalty.

“Teacher Rainn, you’re the coolest woman I’ve ever met,” I whisper.

She gasps, dissolving into blushing laughter. But the pups chime in, patting her arms and tugging on her clothes.

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