Page 9 of Impregnated By the Alpha

It didn’t seem right to Jonah, like leaving a thorn in a paw. It’d only burrow in deeper, and hurt worse. If he apologized, maybe they could work it out, and perhaps she’d even forgive him one day. He blew out a long breath and looked up at the ceiling, at the exposed beams dark with age and polish.

“If that’s what she wants,” he said, finally.

He’d just add it to his long list of mistakes. This one stung deeper than most, though. The moment he saw her, he’d been drawn to her, and now he was supposed to stay away and never even speak to her? A fitting punishment, really.

“Thank you,” Adria said, relaxing. She got to her feet and gave Spencer another kiss. “Now I should go back to my friends. Don’t forget, Spence, the babysitter, leaves at ten.”

“I’ll be there,” Spencer replied, watching her go with a look of love all over his face.

Jonah wanted the kind of love that the two of them had, the love that Devon and Beth had. A companion who could look past all the mistakes and failures and see who he wanted to be, deep down.

“I should go too,” Jonah said, feeling out of place in the Rosewood pub. It was a feeling he was becoming acquainted with.

Spencer didn’t try to stop him. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and climbed to his feet, feeling the eyes of the room on his skin. It took everything in him not to look at Moira when he passed by, but he knew she was watching him.

He heard the door open behind him.

“How dare you come back here.” It wasn’t a question. It was a demand.

Spinning around, he came face to face with Moira. She had her hands on her hips and a look in her eye that made him want to slink away, tail between his legs.

“I’m not here for long,” he promised. Her words stung, even if he’d expected them.

She hated his guts. It was obvious in the way she glared at him, like something she’d found on the bottom of her shoe. Maybe he shouldn’t have come at all.

He waited to see if she’d say more but she only crossed her arms around herself like armor. Like she needed protection against him. Judging by what Adria had said, that’s exactly how she felt. So he didn’t push it. All he wanted was forgiveness and she didn’t owe him, didn’t owe making him feel better at the expense of making herself feel worse.

So Jonah slunk out into the night, alone. He looked up at the full moon hanging like a pendant in the sky, its light casting the town in silver. It illuminated his path, out of the Rosewood’s idyllic town, away from its comfort and cheer, away to the place he’d come from and couldn’t escape.

Chapter 4 - Moira

Moira cut the butter into the dough. The sharp, flashing edges of the pastry cutter made quick work of it, leaving her with the perfect sandy texture for her scone dough. It was Sunday, her day off from working at the bakery, but she always seemed to find herself baking anyway, especially when she had something on her mind.

She opened the window, letting the oven heat escape her tiny apartment. Loaf dozed on the cushioned window seat in the living room, content in the afternoon sun. If only she felt so at ease.

After spotting Jonah at the bar, she’d been trying to get him out of her mind. He’d left her shaken and hadn’t even talked to her, though he’d looked like he’d wanted to. Probably wanted to laugh in her face, cut her down in front of her friends, and make her cry in a place that felt as familiar as home to her now.

Luckily, Adria had gotten to him first. She'd warned him off, and surprisingly, he’d listened, scurrying out of the pub not long after to terrorize someone else, no doubt. But she couldn’t let it go at that. Why had she followed him out? Maybe just to check that he was real, and not just a ghost from her past.

Moira blew a strand of hair out of her face and cut the scone dough into eight neat triangles. She glazed them with a wash of cream and a sprinkle of sugar, then set them in the oven to bake while she cleaned herself up, glancing at the clock.

Swearing, she hurried into the shower. She was supposed to be at Vera’s in twenty minutes, but she would definitely be late. Not that it mattered; they weren’t doing anything that required punctuality, but Vera would tease her for it. Unprofessional, she’d say.

Moira got dressed, tugging on a knit sweater and wide-legged jeans. She ran a brush through her hair and flicked a coat of mascara over her eyelashes just as the oven timer dinged.

“Perfect,” she said, breathing in the smell of the blueberry scones. They were just golden at the edges. “But no time to cool them.”

She wrapped the pan in a few towels, stopping by Loaf on her way out the door.

“Wish you could come along. Vera’s a sucker for you,” she said, scratching the cat under his chin. His fur was warm from the sun. “She might go easy on me if you were there.”

He meowed doubtfully, then settled his head back down, green eyes blinking closed again.

“Be back soon,” she said, locking the door behind her.

It was a short drive over to Vera’s, walkable if she wasn’t in a hurry. Her sister lived among the Rosewoods, in an adorable two-story house Moira could never afford, complete with a porch and a front lawn. Pots of mums sat on the stairs up to the house in autumnal shades of orange and red.

She let herself into the house. Unlike Moira’s cluttered, messy apartment, Vera’s house was the picture of minimalism. From its mouse grey walls to the white couch, it was something out of a modern living magazine.

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