Page 56 of Impregnated By the Alpha

Was he? Once he took on the mantle of alpha, there was no shedding it. He would not run as his father had. Whatever happened in Silversand happened with him at the helm and with Moira by his side.

He held out his arm for her to take, and she threaded hers through the space, instantly soothing his worries. Whatever he did, he did not have to do it alone, and he couldn’t ask for a better companion than the one he’d found.

“We’re ready,” said Moira, holding his gaze.

They stepped out onto the sand. The Silversands gathered closer while the Rosewoods hung back, and in the shadow of the lighthouse, Jonah vowed to protect and guide the Silversand pack, to be its light in the storm and its captain through the waves. He looked around at the remnants of the once-thriving pack, fixing each and every wolf in his mind.

“I won’t let any of you down,” he said, dipping his head.

“We are bound to sea and sand.” The elder intoned, pouring a thin vial of seawater over Jonah’s head. Salt trickled into his eyes. “To sea and sand, we will return.”

The oath of the Silversand pack was repeated by the circle of wolves. Jonah had always believed there was magic in those words, something stronger than just the sounds of them, and he felt it then binding them all together and to that place. The wind whipped the sand into a frenzy, and he saw the shape of his mother in its scattered grains. She’d never left that place. He closed his eyes tightly, and when he opened them again, the vision vanished, leaving him with only a sense of comfort and peace, of rightness.

On that day, he’d run away from home, fleeing with the only goal in mind to get far, far away from his father, he never could have imagined standing where he was now. Would he follow in his father’s footsteps? Was it a family curse that dragged Silversand down? He recalled the soothsayers foretelling and how Jonah and Moira’s bond was entwined with the fate of the pack.

He would drag Moira down with him if he could not escape his father’s legacy. Jonah would never allow that to happen. He would never repeat his father’s mistakes.

“We all have our fates, boy. They’re the anchors tied around our necks.” The soothsayer’s voice so close to his ear made him jump, his rheumy eye fixed on Jonah’s face. “And you can’t wear somebody else’s.”

With that, the soothsayer departed.

Moira’s touch on his elbow brought him back to the moment. With the alpha ceremony over, the Rosewoods joined the circle. Jonah took Moira’s hand and led her to the center. It was the soothsayer who spoke their vows, who tied their hands together with a length of nautical rope, and dunked them both in the frigid sea. Lips shaking and blue, they kissed to the cheers of their gathered families.

“You know, in a Rosewood ceremony, we wouldn’t get hypothermia,” Moira said, teeth chattering.

He pulled her under his arm and gave her his body heat, as he’d give her everything. “You belong here. With me. With us.”

“I do,” she said, gazing up at him with eyes blue enough to sink in.

“Come on lovebirds, there’s cake!” Vera called, waving them over.

She was already deep in the champagne, and she stumbled over a divot in the sand. Rami caught her, glasses sliding down his nose. Jonah expected Vera to yank her arm away, to push him off, but perhaps it was the alcohol that slowed her hand, or the affection in the air. Whatever it was, she let him steady her.

“Did you see that?” Jonah murmured to Moira while they walked to join the crowd. “She didn’t bite him.”

“That’s practically a smile,” Moira nodded at Vera’s steely look.

Evelyn handed Jonah and Moira thick woolen blankets to wrap around themselves and a plate full of cake to share. “It’s amazing, Moira. We are definitely adding this to every Silversand mating ceremony going forward. Not up for a vote. Sorry, Alpha.”

Jonah accepted the new rule without complaint. After all, Moira’s cake was amazing.

By the time the party died down and everyone but them had gone home, their clothes were dry, thanks to the campfire, and they were buzzing with something stronger than any champagne. Jonah led Moira in their home, their lighthouse.

Winter was nipping at fall’s heels and the night was bitter. But inside, someone had fed the fire in the stove and the place was pleasantly warm.

“I can’t believe this is real,” she breathed, catching sight of herself in the mirror they’d propped against the wall.

In it, every perfect inch of her was reflected from head to toe. He joined her, coming up behind her to trace kisses along the salty skin of her neck. “This place?”

She twisted to catch his lips in a kiss. “Us.”

He shivered at the word. His fingers worked the zipper down her back, impatient for the bare skin beneath.

Moira flushed and looked away when the dress pooled at her feet. How, he could never imagine. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

“You’re perfect,” he said, over and over again, with every kiss that marked his path down her body.

When he reached her hip, he followed the curve of it to her front, kneeling before her. She caught her fingers in his air when his kiss trailed lower, between her legs. His tongue lapped at her, hungry for her. Jonah loved it when her grip tightened, and she started to writhe against him, desperate for more, when she forgot herself.

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