Page 170 of The Alpha's Pen Pal

The purple quilted fabric was embellished with gold and white embroidery of stars and phases of the moon. It had her name, “Haven Kenway,” stitched into one corner.

The center of the blanket had three concentric circles. The smallest was dark purple with stars, the second was white with embroidered moons, and the outside was light purple. The positioning of the circles mimicked an eclipse.

It was a beautiful blanket. And the symbol in the center was familiar. I had seen it before but couldn’t remember where or when. But it was definitely a symbol I’d seen somewhere.

“This is what they found you wrapped you in?” I asked her breathlessly.

“Yeah.”

“It has moons on it.”

“I know,” she replied as she continued to move around the kitchen and work on our food.

“Haven,” I said, and she froze at the tone of my voice, her head turning to look at me. “Moons are like—our symbol,” I told her. “And this one, this specific design,” I continued, pointing at the middle. “I swear I’ve seen it before. I’m almost positive.”

“Where?”

I groaned out in frustration. “I don’t know. It’s right there, right at the front of my brain, but I can’t pinpoint it,” I said, pressing my fingers into my forehead. “But I’m sure I’ve seen it before.”

She furrowed her brow, then shook her head and laughed. “It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a blanket. Moons are a common motif in baby stuff. You probably just saw it in a store or something. And besides, wouldn’t I know if I was a werewolf too? Wouldn’t I have changed into one at some point?”

I pressed my lips together for a moment. “I guess so, yeah. But other supernaturals use the moon in their symbolism and lore, too.”

“Other supernaturals?”

“You know, witches, vampires… they’re the others who use the moon, mostly.”

“Did you just say vampires?”

“Well, obviously, you’re not a vampire. You don’t have the desire to drink blood, and you can be outside whenever you want,” I mused.

“But vampires are real?”

“Yeah. You know a few, actually.”

“What? Who?” Her eyebrows raised along with the volume of her voice.

“Peter and Ramón.”

“Wait, what?” she sputtered. “Peter and Ramón are vampires?”

“Haven, I am a lycan. You watched me shift into an animal. And you’re surprised that vampires are real, too?”

She blushed. “Well, when you put it like that…” she muttered. “Okay, we’ll put a pin in the whole ‘vampires are real and my ballet director is one’ thing. But seriously, Wesley, wouldn’t I know if I was something special or magical? That wouldn’t stay hidden or dormant for twenty-one years, would it?”

I thought about what she said. She had a point. But between the symbols on the blanket and the way she could feel the bond between us and the fact Lennox went through all that trouble to try to mark her—even if it was in his lycan form—well, I was having a hard time believing it was all “just a coincidence.” And if there were scent blockers made by witches that we could take, then surely there was a way they could block a shift or an aura.

“I’m going to call Dr. Russo,” I said, grabbing my phone off the charger in the kitchen where I’d left it the night before. “You’re probably right, but he can run tests on your blood just in case. Just so we can know for sure.”

“I mean, I think it’s going to be a waste of your time and his, but go ahead,” she shrugged.

I sighed. She was probably right, but I dialed Dr. Russo’s number anyway. He preferred phone calls since mindlinks could interrupt his concentration if he was in surgery or something.

He answered on the first ring. “Wesley! What can I do for you? How is Haven?”

“That’s actually what I was calling you about,” I said. “We were wondering—well, I was wondering if you could test her blood for supernatural DNA?”

“And why did you want me to do that?”

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