Page 1 of The Alpha Wolf's Pregnant Bride

Chapter 1 - Cassandra

The bus wobbled as we crossed the bridge, causing a slight upheaval for the handful of passengers occupying the seats in no specific order in front of me. A woman and her child, a couple, and two singles were spread out in the confines of the large vehicle. Their heads bob in front of me, the mild impact of disruption lifting my rear from the back seat, then sending me down with enough force to reaffirm the strong pull of the tight knots coiling in the pit of my belly.

I feel sick, bile rising like creepy, crawly tendrils of acidity up my throat. A hand flies over my mouth as a natural reflex while I mentally talk myself through this ride.

Closing my eyes, I take a few deep breaths to compose myself, opening them up only to look out the window. We’re almost over the bridge with its potholes and chipped tar marring the surface, the only consolation of a dreary road being the calm waters of Turkey Creek below it.

Even at its highest level, the sight of the full stream isn’t enough to compensate for the lack of maintenance in this part of the States. It neither eases my trepidation nor quells my deep longing for the city.

With every squeaky roll of the tires over loose stones and pebbles on the road, we inch further and further toward the small town of Mysthaven, Oklahoma. Every second that ticks by only serves to drive in my dread. I bite my bottom lip as I stare out the window just as we pass the congregation of orange oaks that act like open arms on either side of the small town’s entryway.

Great.

We’re here.

As the bus rolls to a halt just in front of the rusty road sign that reads “Mysthaven” in faded white paint, I take a deep breath.

“Mysthaven?” the bus driver calls out before the hydraulics on the bus door wheeze and blow out a puff of ancient smoke.

“Thanks…” I murmur as I head down the aisle, clutching the strap of my shoulder bag as if it’s the lifeline I need to step out of the bus. Once I hop off and lug my bag out of the baggage compartment on the side, I wait for the bus to roll away, revealing the main street of Mysthaven ahead of me.

The dusty dirt road ahead is the dry, dull welcoming of my arrival. Another deep breath fuels the little bit of energy I have left to cross the road and enter the hemisphere of the small town I grew up in. Outlined by mesh-wired fence along the farmland, the almost-ghost town is a painful reminder of why I left in the first place and why I hate the idea of being back.

Luckily for me, pulling the wheels of my bag along the sand road doesn’t alert the residents of my arrival. I’m able to slip away unnoticed, the broad daylight serving its purpose of taking most of the occupants of the small town out to the city for work. Approaching the plywood cottage near the woods, I sigh with mild relief as I carry my bag up the porch.

Setting it down, I stare at the door as the build-up of anxiety in my belly is replaced with a sinking feeling of grief. It’s been nine years since I came face to face with Mama’s hand-painted sign hanging on the door from a nail. Papa and I took turns hammering it into the frame. Despite the tears welling in my eyes, I giggle as I lift my hand to trace the words “Chikara Family” in pastel pink, painted over a horizon of blues and clouds brushed on the top.

Sighing with a heavy heart, I push open the front door that opens up to an empty house full of the scent of eucalyptus and sage. The smell of home wrestles my heart into a torrent of grief and longing because of its emptiness.

“Mama…” I whisper into the empty void as I step inside, walking into a piece of the past I thought I left behind for good. It's almost as if I can see the apparition of my younger self running around over the creaky floorboards, my youthful cheer echoing in my eardrums as if the sounds linger in the air.

I can't believe she's gone.

My shoulders droop as I close the door behind me and immerse myself in the wobbly walk down memory lane. Each step inside becomes the driving force of the tears rolling down my cheeks uncontrollably, my feet heavy as I drag myself to the living room.

I part the drapes to allow the sunlight in, grateful for the kiss of warmth on my cheeks as the only welcome I've received today. The cold air in the cottage begins to warm up, but a cold shiver courses down my spine as I turn to the now-illuminated room.

A wistful smile feebly lifts the corners of my mouth when I notice the bookshelf adorned with the souvenirs Mama collected all her life. Crossing the room, I can't help but feel proud of her collection of Japanese ceramics and folding fans displayed on the shelf. Each one represents her trips to the country, and each time, I sent her a ticket to visit me over the past few years.

My decision to leave the small town of Mysthaven opened up my pathway to success, then leading out of the country. But it was never my success that prevented me from visiting this place. Right now, gripped by the claws of regret, I wish I'd visitedsooner. Despite the circumstances around my decision to leave in the first place, I wish I had the chance to hug my mother between the four walls of the only home she ever knew.

The one she poured all her love into. Even after Papa passed, Mama ensured I never felt his absence with every meal she cooked and every activity she planned for my sake. From fixing the bookshelf he built from scratch to painting the pictures hanging on the walls now, there was never a dull moment with her.

I hang my head with a sigh, taking a seat on the armrest of her favorite cashmere sofa as I look around. I never imagined that I'd be back here, and Mama made sure never to make me feel bad about my decision to leave this place. Ironically, she's the reason I'm back.

All because of that dreaded, life-changing call I received from an old friend a few days ago.

“It’s Aunt Agatha, Cassie… She's gone…”

Even now, I can hardly believe it while I sit in the empty house where Mama's voice doesn't fill the air to call me for lunch or ask that I hang the washing outside. Two months ago, when she visited me in Tokyo, there wasn't any indication that she wouldn't make it to Fall. Her favorite time of the year was when the leaves turned orange and yellow and matched the setting sun.

All that's left is the memory of her smile as she danced in the backyard and crushed fallen leaves with her boots. I can't help but sob through the recollection of her free spirit and how supportive she was of my choices in life.

Watching her only child leave town for good couldn't have been easy. I'd begged her to come with me, but Mama was too attached to this place.

I don't blame her. After all, she'd grown up in this town, her Werewolf lineage tied to the Moon Shine Pack. On the other hand, I wasn't fortunate enough to experience the joys of the Moon Shine Pack that would keep me bound to this place.

I was different. Mama knew this. That's why she'd been supportive of my decision to leave. I was different when she found me one night in the library, not reading a book but running programs on a public computer. I was different when I was out chasing the stars instead of attending a pack meeting. Mama's look of disapproval was only an act for the sake of the Beta's son, who found me near the mountain and brought me back with my tail between my legs.

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