Page 32 of Impregnated By the Alpha

Grinning, he replied, “I’ll pick you up at eight, and we can go together.”

He walked away before she could muster up a response, her words tripping on her tongue. Something about that surprising and cocky grin, that flash of stomach, had left her spinning. She wanted to see him again.

When she returned, she flipped the bakery sign to open and watched the clock tick down the minutes until she could leave. The afternoon was slow, and she couldn’t focus on the small tasks, such as cleaning and stocking. Her thoughts kept drifting to Jonah. A business deal, she reminded herself. Do not grow real feelings for that man. To distract herself, she repeated her argument with Vera from that morning until she felt prickly all over again.

It kept her warm on the walk home, head down against the wind that tugged at her coat and hair. No one else was out as the sky began to darken.

“I’m home,” she called to Loaf, shedding her coat at the door.

He meowed from the other room and padded in to butt his head against her legs. She filled his bowl with food and spent some time on the floor with him, tossing a crinkly ball of cellophane back and forth for him to chase.

“Maybe I should just tell you all my woes,” she said, watching him skitter across the tile after the ball. “At least you don’t tell me I’m an idiot.”

Moira rinsed off and dressed warmly for her night with Jonah, spending more time than she’d admit picking out an outfit that struck a balance between cute and obviously trying. In the end, she settled on a pair of faded blue jeans and a thick sweater that dipped low enough to show a hint of cleavage. Then, before she could overthink it, she threw on a coat of mascara and a flick of eyeliner.

Vera would say she was begging for attention, but Moira stuffed down her sister’s voice. She was beginning to think that Vera didn’t have her best interests at heart, that the little ways she hurt Moira were intentional and designed, in some way, to keep Moira small and needy.

The doorbell rang right on time, interrupting her morose train of thought.

“Coming!” She called out, though she doubted he could hear her from up there.

Pulling on her boots, she said goodbye to Loaf and ran down the stairs, slowing down to a walk at the last two steps.

“You’re very punctual,” she said by way of greeting.

He’d put some effort in himself, judging by his shining curls and the freshly-showered scent. Take that, Vera.

“Is that… a bad thing?” He asked, brow wrinkling in confusion. “I could take a walk around the block and come back in say, ten minutes or so. Pretend to not even notice I’m late, if that’s what you’re into?”

She shot him a look and got a grin in return, fighting her own urge to smile. “Just don’t make it a habit.”

“Shall we make this a four-legged trip?” He asked, hopping off of the steps.

It was fully dark by then, and the wind had not eased up, bending the trees around them and shaking the street signs with an awful rattle. She nodded, eager to be in the warmth of her fur coat.

They shifted and moved in unison along the backroads out of town, cutting through the scrappy woods to the Silversand territory. She kept pace with him, relishing the quiet connection between them, the way they moved without the need for words. Life was simpler as a wolf.

Jonah led her back to the beach they’d walked on but farther up the coast, to a spot she’d visited with the Rosewood tracking group not long before. The lighthouse. It looked, somehow, even spookier in the nighttime. It jutted up from the sand like a giant fang toward the plum sky.

A fire flared at the base, and the smell of burning wood filled her nose, choking out the scent of the sea and the gathering of wolves that ring the flame. She slowed as they got closer and noticed, when she didn’t fall behind Jonah, that he’d slowed as well. Neither of them were looking forward to this.

One man stood up as they approached, lifting a hand in greeting.

“Hey Jonah,” he called, his glasses flashing in the firelight.

The others turned to face them. Moira wanted to turn and run, but she’d made Jonah a deal. Holding the promise of the bakery being hers, finally, completely hers, she shifted back to her human form.

Jonah beside her did the same and returned the wave. “Nice to see you again, Rami.”

Everyone was human, except for the white wolf curled close to the fire, its tail tucked over its nose. It was bony, frail, and nearly lost against the pale sand. The soothsayer. She stared at him, unable to look away from this man who had seen her future tied to Jonah’s.

“So the son returns,” a woman spoke up beside the fire, her hair wild in the wind. “Welcome home, Jonah.”

Moira watched the reunions, a step behind Jonah, trying to gauge everyone’s reactions to his homecoming. Her old pack. She felt alien among them now and imagined Jonah felt much the same. Though she had stayed living in close proximity, her choice to leave the pack had built a wall of coldness between them.

“And Moira, too,” she said, glancing at her. Moira recognized her as Ella. “What a pleasure. We’ve all heard the soothsayer's words. Fated mates? Who could have imagined it?”

At that, the soothsayer’s eye cracked open and settled on Moira. She took an unsteady breath. Jonah caught her before she could spiral, wrapping his arm around her waist, steady and solid beside her. He pulled her close against him.

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